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Lady Guinevere And The Rogue With A Brogue (Scottish Scoundrels: Ensnared Hearts Book 1)

Page 26

by Julie Johnstone


  Asher narrowed his eyes. “Get up.”

  Kilgore frowned. “What the devil for? We only just sat.”

  “Because I’ve not properly thrashed ye yet. Ye deserve more blood dripping from ye for wagering to seduce Lady Constantine, my wife, and—”

  “Your wife? I never bloody wagered I could seduce Lady Guinevere. You can look at the book at White’s yourself, and you will see the truth.” It was Kilgore who now narrowed his eyes. “Did Talbot tell you that lie?”

  “Aye,” Asher said, fury flowing through him and another suspicion. “He also said I could check the books at White’s myself.”

  “Damnation,” Kilgore swore softly. “I was deep in my cups that night, and I barely glanced at what he wrote. I took him on his word that we wagered over Lady Constantine only.”

  “His word,” Asher said, bitterness filling him. Either Pierce had changed the wager at some time later or the original wager had been as he’d said and Kilgore had never bothered to look when he was sober. Either way, Pierce’s word was worthless. He’d been deceiving Asher all along. Lord X had been Pierce in his little story.

  “You’re a fool for believing him.”

  “A sodding fool, for certain,” Asher agreed, angry with himself.

  “Your brother had dubbed Lady Constantine ‘the Ice Queen’ and was making a large show of it in the club. He challenged me specifically and said if I could seduce her, he would give me a tiny portion of my land back. I was desperate, and I am not proud of that decision.”

  Kilgore paused, took a long swig of his drink, and then swept a hand through his disheveled hair. He looked miserable as hell.

  “Let us say,” Kilgore continued, “that I succeeded in my pursuit, but if either of you ever repeat that, I will come for you. I will come for you like Satan comes for the souls of the damned.”

  “I’ll never repeat it,” Asher assured him, and Beckford nodded.

  “I—Well, things became complicated between the lady and I, and I was engaged in ways I did not expect.”

  Beckford snorted. “Ladies have a tendency to complicate things.”

  “Aye,” Asher agreed, thinking of Guinevere.

  “I would have offered for Constantine, but…”

  Asher understood. Kilgore was poor and prideful. He had a title but none of the trappings to go with it.

  “I almost did anyway, but then I learned that she has a sizeable income from a deceased aunt, and it disappears if she weds; it goes to the next spinster niece.”

  “Ah,” Asher said.

  “Yes.” Kilgore sighed. “I could not in all good conscience render Constantine a pauper.”

  “What of her dowry?”

  Kilgore shook his head. “It’s passable, but my debts—” His jaw clenched. “I was stuck, and your brother gave me yet another offer.”

  “Like the devil,” Asher bit out.

  Kilgore arched his eyebrows. “Precisely. And I but a blind sinner. If I would kiss your wife on the balcony—you know the one—”

  Asher wanted to hit Kilgore again, but instead, he said, “Aye, it’s burned into my memory.”

  Kilgore scrubbed a hand over his face. “I am sorry.”

  “I still want to hit ye.”

  Kilgore nodded. “Shall I get up?”

  Asher had to think about it for several, long moments. “Not yet.”

  Kilgore inclined his head. “For the kiss, he would give me yet another tiny portion of my land back.”

  “He’s masterful,” Beckford said.

  “Aye,” Asher growled. “He learned how to be calculating from the best—our father. So ye kissed Guinevere that night, and…”

  “And Elizabeth was to ensure you saw it. She was—” Kilgore paused “—enceinte and desperate for a husband that met her requirements. You were her choice.”

  Rage beat through Asher. He had discovered afterward that Elizabeth had been with child, but he had never thought she had been involved in such an elaborate scheme created by his brother. “Why? What was Pierce’s purpose in this? Driving Guinevere and me apart did not change the fact that I was heir and he was not.”

  “No,” Kilgore agreed, “but I’m not certain that was his main goal. He has never said, mind you, but he has made comments over the years, and the way he watches your wife…”

  “Damnation.” Asher had been sodding blind. “He wants Guin. Why the hell not simply pursue her, then?”

  “He might have, and she denied him? He might not have the courage? Who knows,” Kilgore said. “That wager was the last I made with your brother until you returned to Town recently, and he offered me yet another deal. If I would pursue your duchess—before she was your duchess, of course—and make it seem I was seducing her and she was a willing participant, Talbot would return all my lands and destroy the note he held on them. I was not to consummate anything, thank God. It was for show.”

  “I am going to kill him,” Asher said, starting to rise, but Kilgore gripped him by the forearm.

  “You need to hear the rest.”

  Asher sat, but all he could think about was Guinevere. He looked at Kilgore. “Did Guinevere… Was she…amenable to yer seduction attempts?”

  “No. Your wife’s affections have been reserved for you since the day you met her, you fool. Despite the fact that you humiliated her five years ago and left her here alone as the subject of much gossip.”

  He winced. He was a damn fool. He’d been callous when last he’d seen her and broke off their plans. He was a louse for ever doubting her.

  “So,” Asher said, wanting to return home to Guinevere, but also knowing he needed all the details when he confronted Pierce who—“Beckford,” he said, focusing on his friend, “my brother was in the pleasure room. Fetch him, please.”

  Beckford slanted a wolfish smile. “Gladly.”

  As he rose and left the room, Asher locked gazes with Kilgore. “Why are ye telling me this now? Ye have yer land, aye?”

  “No. Your damn brother has refused to tear up the paper and return my lands. I have a few small tracts, but it’s not worth it to me anymore. I cannot live with myself. The more I got to know your wife, the worse I felt. She is so good.”

  “Aye,” Asher said, his chest tightening. “She is. Too good for me.”

  “Agreed,” Kilgore said. “One last thing you should know… Your brother sent me to Scotland last week to ensure there was trouble at one of your distilleries that would bring you back to Scotland. Thinking upon it now, I believe he wanted to keep you from your wedding. He threatened to tell Constantine all I had done, so I went.”

  The fire.

  “Damn ye, Kilgore,” Asher said, glaring at the man.

  “I’m sure I am damned,” Kilgore said solemnly. “Needless to say, I do not think your brother has given up on his pursuit of your wife or of simply making you miserable. I thought you should know.”

  “What will ye do now?”

  Kilgore shrugged. “Unless Talbot willingly returns the land, I have no recourse, and the bits and pieces he’s given me will take a very long time to turn a real profit. I will keep working, though.”

  “I’ll see what I can do to help with that,” Asher said, thinking more of Lady Constantine’s happiness than anything. “Ye should go to Lady Constantine and confess everything, though, because when Pierce finds out ye told me, he will do it himself.”

  Kilgore smiled blandly. “I did that after I ran into Guinevere in the park today. I realized then I was disintegrating into a wickedness even I could never climb out of if I did not try to change things. I confessed all, and she threw me out after telling me she never wanted to speak to me again.”

  “Surely, ye’ll return to attempt to change her mind?”

  Kilgore shook his head. “I won’t.”

  “Ye confessed to her so she would hate ye,” Asher said, fully understanding.

  “Yes. She’s far too good for me and does not deserve to be tied to a penniless reprobate. Now, she can get on wit
h her life.”

  Asher was just about to tell Kilgore to not do anything drastic, but the door swung open and Beckford strode in. “Your brother is gone, and my man at the door tells me he departed directly after the fight started between you and that one.” Beckford tilted his head toward Kilgore.

  “Damn.” Asher rose and shoved his chair back. He had a bad feeling about what Pierce might do next.

  “I’m coming with you,” Beckford said.

  “Nay,” Asher said. What he wanted to say to Guinevere was private, and he could handle Pierce. “If I need ye, I’ll send word.”

  When he exited the club, he stopped in shock. It was daylight. He had not realized how long he’d been at the club.

  Good God, what must Guinevere think?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The next morning, Guinevere awoke more distraught than when she’d gone to sleep, if that was possible. She sat up in the guest chamber bed staring out the window at the sun. She had thought Asher would return home from the club, find she was not in their bedchamber, and come looking for her, but he had done nothing of the sort, and it hurt dreadfully.

  Despite all she had discovered, he still managed to wound her. She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on her kneecaps. No tears pricked her eyes, thank heaven above. She supposed there was a limit, after all, of how much a body could cry in a day.

  Her husband had not come to her. Did he not care enough to do so, or did he care and her cold behavior yesterday had confused him? Try as she might last night, she could not completely reconcile what she had discovered about his father’s will with the reason for his wedding her and how he had acted in the last week. It simply did not make sense. If Asher had wed her only to gain the unentailed property and money, why had he been so caring, so tender, so passionate?

  Making up her mind to confront him and tell him what she had learned, she dressed hurriedly with Miss Ballenger’s aid and made her way to the bedchamber she and Asher had shared until last night.

  His valet was inside laying out clothes. When she paused at the door, Cushman glanced up from his task and looked at her. “Your Grace, may I help you?”

  “Yes, where is my husband?” The valet looked immediately wary, which knotted her stomach further than it was already tangled. When he didn’t answer, she said, “It’s all right, Cushman. I believe we had the beginning of a row yesterday.” It was more than that, but no need to get into specifics with the man. “I was hoping to speak with him.”

  “Ah, Your Grace, that explains why he did not come home.”

  “What?” Those blasted knots tightened further.

  “I assume he spent the night at the Orcus Society, Your Grace.”

  “He did,” came a voice from behind her. She whirled around to see Talbot standing there in the corridor, looking as if he himself had spent the night out.

  She swallowed as familiar humiliation burned her cheeks. “Did you see him?”

  The look of pity in Talbot’s eyes was her answer, but it also set warning bells off in her head. She wanted to hear what Talbot knew but not in front of Cushman. She would be disgraced enough without the entire staff being privy to the fact that Asher truly did not care about her. She would rather his valet not be an audience to what might come.

  “That will be all, Cushman,” she said, indicating with her hand that the man ought to depart.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” he replied immediately, but she noted as she moved out of the doorway and into the corridor to let him by that he hesitated for a moment, giving her an odd look.

  “You’ve been dismissed, Cushman,” Talbot said in a curt tone. “Stop lurking.”

  The valet cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot, but after a severe glare from Talbot, he finally departed. When it was just the two of them alone, she said, “So you saw him?”

  Talbot nodded, looking clearly like he did not want to say more.

  “At the Orcus Society?”

  Another nod accompanied by a darting gaze. Goodness, it had to be worse than she thought. “Was he… Was he alone?”

  Talbot shook his dark head and sighed.

  Her throat tightened, but her eyes still did not prick. Perhaps her heart had hardened a bit, after all. “Was he with another woman?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Two heavily laden words filled with such force. She felt ill.

  “He doesn’t deserve you. He never did.”

  On that, she could agree, though it was slightly odd the way Talbot had phrased it.

  “What will you do now?” he asked.

  The question echoed in her head. What would she do? They were wed. She supposed she could try for a divorce? The thought made her feel worse. She loved him. She couldn’t automatically quit, though she would not simply go along, a blind, foolish Society wife.

  “I…I don’t know,” she admitted. “I suppose I’ll go to my parents’ home and—”

  “Do you think that’s wise? He’ll go there undoubtedly, and your parents will, of course, want to protect you from him, but it might anger him, and with his power—”

  He could do harm to future matches for her sisters, but no, Asher was not capable of such cruelty. Was he?

  “I’ve a house that he doesn’t know of,” Talbot said. “I could take you there now. It would give you time to decide what to do, to plan, to—”

  “Yes!” Time was exactly what she needed. She was heartsick and could hardly think. Her head was pounding.

  “We better make haste,” Talbot said. “I imagine he’ll be returning home soon.”

  Who even knew? Perhaps he’d gone to the woman’s home. She had no notion how those things worked. “I don’t want to cause a row with the two of you. I know things have not been smooth.”

  “Do not fret, Guin.”

  She frowned. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him not to call her Guin. It was improper, but more than that, Asher had called her Guin. He’d been the only person to ever do so. But that was not what was most important right then. If Asher had thought he could wed her for gain, then she supposed he had used her for passion until he tired of her. Clearly, he’d done so quickly. Well, she was not going to await his return and play the meek, biddable wife.

  “She’s not been here that I’m aware of,” Guinevere’s mother said from her place on the settee, “but I’ve been lying down with a horrible megrim, which I still have,” she finished, giving him a severe look. Before Asher could respond, the woman started screeching for her other daughters.

  Within moments, not only did Guinevere’s two sisters and Lady Lilias appear in the parlor but two women Asher thought he recognized appeared, as well.

  “Mama,” said Guinevere’s most outspoken sister, Lady Frederica, stepping forward, “you need us?”

  “It seems your sister told Carrington she was coming here, and as you know, I’ve not been feeling well. Have you seen her?”

  Asher did not correct the woman’s assumption that Guinevere had been the one to tell him where she was going. Cushman had said that Guinevere had departed with Pierce and a packed trunk just moments before he’d returned home, and she had told Cushman that Pierce was taking her to her parents’ house.

  Asher was trying to keep a rein on his worry, but it was becoming damn near impossible.

  “Mama,” Lady Frederica said smoothly, “go lie back down. You looked flushed. I’ll help Carrington find Guinevere. I imagine they had a row?”

  All the women who stood with Lady Frederica stared at him now, and the stares were not friendly. If they only knew the half of what an ass he’d been.

  “I do feel horrid,” Lady Fairfax said, rising. “If you’ll excuse me?”

  He nodded, and she started to turn toward the door, but then she looked over her shoulder at him. “Did you have a row?”

  “It’s my fault,” he said simply, not wanting her to blame Guinevere.

  She smiled. “Well, at least you are wise enough to realize it.”
r />   The moment she was out the door, angry voices erupted.

  “What have you done?” Lilias demanded.

  “You should apologize when you find her,” a woman with black hair snapped.

  Lady Frederica held up her hand. “This helps nothing!”

  Silence fell, and she turned a critical eye on him. “Guinevere has not been here today. What happened?”

  He flicked his gaze to the women he did not know, but Lady Lilias said, “You may speak freely among us. This is Lady Abigail and Lady Emmeline. We are all members of the Society of Ladies Against Rogues.”

  An uproar started once more, but this time he was the one who stopped it. He smacked his palm against the table nearest him, and all eyes were on him once more. “The what?”

  “Lilias!” Lady Vivian protested. “It’s a secret society!”

  “Well, yes, but it says in our bylaws that if one of us should wed, she has the right to tell her husband of the society. Did Guinevere not tell you?”

  “Nay, but ye shall.” He clenched his jaw.

  “It’s a secret society to help unsuspecting women not be ruined by rogues,” Vivian said, giving him a pointed look.

  It made sense now why Guinevere had been in the library the night of the Antwerp ball. It was just like his wife to put herself in harm’s way to help others. She had a big heart, and he had trampled on it again. He had hurt her five years ago, and it didn’t matter that he had not intended to do so. And what had he done when she had bravely revealed how she felt to him? He’d answered her unspoken plea with words he knew she didn’t understand.

  “Guinevere has fled me, it seems,” he said.

  “Oh my,” Lady Vivian said. “For you to drive her away, it must be horrid. She loves you.”

  She did. Or she had. Damn everything!

  He nodded to indicate he’d heard Lady Vivian and said, “I do not know where she’s gone, but I’m worried.” Admitting it aloud increased the unease within him.

 

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