by Dawn Brower
“I didn’t look at her any particular way,” Reese replied. And he hadn’t, had he? Wouldn’t he know if he’d looked at Cara in a certain way? All afternoon he’d been trying to figure out how to extricate himself from this blasted situation of his own making, without causing Cara any anguish in the process. Any look he had in regards to the girl in question would have been along those lines.
His friend shrugged. “Whatever you say, Darling.”
That was more than annoying and Reese’s nerves were already on end. “And just what are you saying, Atherton?”
Arch released a sigh. “That first night, I thought you saw her only as a means to winning that wager with Westham. But it’s more than that. Even if you don’t see it yourself.”
“You think I’m blind to my own feelings?”
Arch shrugged once more. “How many times have I heard you ridicule a fellow for falling in love?” He shook his head. “I’m not certain why you don’t believe in it, or why the idea of it rubs you the wrong way. But whether you believe in it or not, I do believe you’ve fallen yourself, Reese Delacy, even if you don’t see it yourself.”
“That’s ridiculous.” And it was. Reese wasn’t in love. He’d know it if he was, wouldn’t he? He liked Cara. He liked her a great deal and didn’t want to see her hurt, but…
“Is it? You’ve never before called a fellow out, not until now, not until Miss Beckett.”
Reese scoffed. “After what we walked in on? Her honor had to be defended.”
“Something you did without a moment’s hesitation.” Arch’s grey eyes focused quite unnervingly on Reese as though he could see straight into his soul. “And if you think that means nothing, you’re a bigger fool than you’ve accused Gates of being.”
Before Reese could even formulate a response to that, Cara’s door opened and a fellow with spectacles and a black doctor’s bag started from the room. Reese breathed a sigh of relief and started directly for the middle-aged man.
“How is she?” he asked as he reached the doctor.
The man glanced at Arch over before focusing on Reese. “I’ve given her some laudanum for her nerves; and while her wrist isn’t broken, it’s badly sprained. A few days with her arm in a sling should do wonders. But she shouldn’t try to carry anything or do needlepoint or—”
Reese couldn’t imagine Cara doing anything so mundane as needlepoint.
“—exert herself in any way.”
“I’ll see that she doesn’t,” Reese replied, glancing past the doctor into Cara’s room and spotting her, lying in the middle of her four-poster, her red hair splayed across the pillows and looking like an angel sent from heaven, albeit one in pain. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“Hammond,” Arch muttered from somewhere behind him. “We do appreciate you tending to our guest.”
But Reese paid no attention to anything other than Cara who’d lifted her head slightly from her pillows to meet his gaze. Then her cheeks flamed as she looked away.
Was she embarrassed? There was no reason for her to be embarrassed about anything. She’d done nothing wrong.
Reese pushed past the doctor and straight into Cara’s chamber, ignoring the gasp of impropriety from Emma Atherton, sitting vigil by the bed.
“Honestly, Lord Darling,” the brunette said, her hand across her heart. “It’s hardly appropriate for you to be in here.”
“And yet I’m here just the same.” Arch’s sister was too damned proper for Reese’s taste. Though the girl had appointed herself guardian over Cara, there was no need for such actions. After all, the very last thing in the world Reese would ever do was to take advantage of the Cara, and especially in her current position and considering what she had already endured that evening. He wasn’t a villain no matter what Emma Atherton thought about him.
Reese crossed the chamber in a few strides and navigated the four-poster until he reached the far side of Cara’s bed. “How are you faring?” he asked her, though she wasn’t looking at him, which only made his heart ache. Then he reached his hand out to brush a lock from her brow, not able to help himself from making that small bit of contact. “Is there anything you need?”
She shook her head and Reese pulled back his hand, though he bumped the damn thing against her bedside table and couldn’t help but wince as the slightest groan escaped him.
“You all right?” Arch asked, stepping into the middle of the chamber.
“Will be,” he muttered. “Second fellow I hit today. Usually, I’m wearing gloves at the salon.”
And then all eyes were on him. Even Cara’s.
“Second fellow?” Arch asked.
Damn it all. He probably shouldn’t have said that. He wasn’t thinking clearly with Cara lying in that bed, still obviously anguished. “Ballantyne,” he replied softly, meeting Arch’s gaze directly. That should be enough to keep his friend from asking anything else.
“Commander Ballantyne?” Emma Atherton squeaked. Apparently, it wasn’t enough to keep her from asking anything else, however. “I saw him today at the fair with a swollen eye. Did you do that?”
When would he ever learn to keep his blasted mouth closed? “We, uh, had a difference of opinion on something. It’s neither here nor there.”
But Cara’s gaze only grew more intense as she lay in the middle of that bed. “Emma.” She cleared her throat after a moment. “Could you please give me a minute with Lord Darling?”
“I don’t think that’s a wise idea, Cara,” the brunette began. “It would be—”
“Emma!” Arch grumbled. “We’ll be right outside the door. I doubt anyone will note upon the impropriety of the situation with that being the case.”
His sister heaved an irritated sigh, but she did push out of her chair and start across the room. As she reached the threshold, she glanced back over her shoulder at Reese and said, “We’ll be right on the other side of this door.”
“Yes, your brother just said as much.” Irritating chit.
Lying in her borrowed four-poster, Cara felt as though she was in a fog. Thoughts swirled around in her mind, but nothing lingered long enough for her to focus on, not until Reese had muttered Charlie’s name a moment ago. Had he really punched the naval commander in the eye? Why would he do that? And why had Charlie ignored her earlier in the day? Even with as tired as she was after the laudanum that Doctor Hammond had given her, Cara’s fear for Cait found its way through the fog in her mind.
“Cara,” Reese breathed out, as he brushed his fingers across her brow once more. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all? Name it and I’ll—”
“Why did you punch Commander Ballantyne?”
His brow creased and he shook his head. “Honestly, that’s the last thing you should worry about at the moment, sweetheart.”
No, the last thing she wanted to think about was Lord Chopwell. Cara shook the thought away as it circled her mind. No, no, finding out what was happening with Charlie Ballantyne would keep her mind from thinking about what had happened to her that evening and what might have happened if Reese and Mr. Atherton hadn’t found her when they did. “You asked what you can do for me, Reese,” she said, not even recognizing the scratchiness to her own voice after crying the better part of the evening. “I want to know why you punched Commander Ballantyne.”
He heaved a sigh and then dropped into a chair by her bedside. He reached for her good hand and then said, “He isn’t the honorable fellow you think he is, Cara.”
That was hardly a surprise. Cara clearly lacked a good judge of character. She wasn’t certain anyone was who she thought they were anymore. But that didn’t answer her question. “You punched him because he isn’t honorable?”
Reese nodded in agreement. “In a round about sort of way.”
Good heavens, he was exasperating. “I will not have any peace until you tell me. What has happened? He’s my sister’s betrothed. If he’s done something horrid, I think I have a right…or Cait has a right to know. And since you see
m to know what that thing is—”
“He’s not going to marry your sister, Cara.”
And upon those words, Cara’s mouth fell open. “I beg your pardon?”
“That is why I punched him.” Reese released another sigh. “Days ago he announced his betrothal to Miss Anna Caldwell. And—”
“Lucien’s Miss Caldwell?”
Reese snorted. “Not any longer. And if you have a care for your sister’s reputation you will not tell another living soul that he jilted her. She’ll be instantaneously ruined otherwise.”
But that couldn’t be. That didn’t make any sense. Cara’s mind swirled. “But a gentleman can’t cry off. It just…”
“…isn’t done?” Reese finished for her. “No it’s not. And yet he has done so. The only way you can save your sister is if no one else knows the truth.”
And despite the laudanum that was supposed to keep her nerves calm, Cara burst into a fresh round of tears. Her cheeks stung and her throat was raw from all the crying she’d already done, but she couldn’t help but sob even harder than she had before. She cried for Cait’s eventual heartbreak, she cried for the loss of Papa and Henry, and she cried because everything she was attempting to do for her family was one giant failure after another.
“Shh.” Reese dabbed at her cheeks with his handkerchief. “Everything will be all right. One way or another. I’ll—”
“You’ll do what?” she cried. Because nothing was going to be all right. Everything was wrong. Every single thing. “You can’t make any of this better, Reese.”
“Cara.”
“Don’t pretend like you care what happens to me. I know the truth, you know?” she blurted out.
“The truth?” Reese’s mouth fell open in surprise. “What are you talking about?”
“That wager of yours,” she almost choked on a sob, on the truth of all of it. She’d almost lost herself in the lies she knew to be untrue. He’d been charming and handsome and attentive and she’d liked him, even knowing that she was just a means to an end for him. “I know everything. I—”
Stunned, he found his feet. “Cara, that was—”
“Not part of the plan?” she supplied for him. “You thought I was too foolish to know the truth? Well, I do. And I’m done with it. I’m done with all of it. With gentlemen who pretend to be one thing but are another beneath their cravats and crisp uniforms.” Charlie Ballantyne, Reese Delacy, and Lord Chopwell. “Gentlemen who give their word only to make fools out of you. Gentlemen who make a sport out of you for nothing more than a wager. Gentlemen who promise their help, but only so they can hurt you. And—”
“Now, see here,” Reese broke in as his face grew red. “My wager might have been ill-advised, but I am not like Chopwell and I won’t have you throwing me in with a man of his ilk. I am—”
“You’re not as different from him as you’d like to think.” But the moment she said those words, she wished she could call them back. Reese looked as though she’d struck him, and he sucked in a breath.
“If that’s the way you feel about it, I’ll not trouble you with my presence any longer, Miss Beckett.” Then he turned quickly on his heel and pulled open the door.
Emma nearly fell into the room as Reese brushed past her and her brother in his haste to escape Cara’s chamber.
Chapter 11
DAY FOUR
The Earl of Darling’s Set of Rooms, Albany Bachelor Lodgings
Piccadilly, Mayfair
The journey from Essex back to London had not been quite long enough to cool Reese’s temper. Though, he wasn’t certain with whom he was the angriest – Cara Beckett for insinuating that he was even remotely like that bastard Chopwell or at himself for having given her any sort of ammunition against him with that goddamned wager. Then there was Chopwell, of course. He was perfectly willing to focus the entirety of his fury on that vile blackguard, especially as it meant he wouldn’t have to think too closely about his own actions in regard to Cara Beckett. Unfortunately, her words from the night before had echoed in his ears all morning long as he’d ridden back to London, and he could not escape the memory of her anguished expression.
Upon entering his set of rooms, Reese dropped into the seat behind his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to stave off the headache that had already begun to take hold of him. After a moment, he scrawled off a quick note to his man of affairs, directing the fellow to have a bank draft in the amount of two hundred pounds sent to Lord Daniel Westham.
Then he stared at an empty piece of vellum for a rather long time.
Lord Daniel Westham
Kirkdale House
Curzon Street, Mayfair
Westham,
I am sure you will be pleased to know that I have directed my man to send you the two hundred pounds you are owed from our unfortunate wager of the other evening. You should enjoy your winnings as I will not allow myself to become embroiled in such foolishness in the future. You shall, in fact, have to find a new imbecile for your next ridiculous endeavor.
Yours,
Darling
He’d been a bloody fool to engage in the damn thing in the first place. The most idiotic thing he’d ever done. Unfortunately, conceding the loss of the wager to his friend did not alleviate Reese’s guilt in the least, not that he truly expected it would do so. He didn’t imagine anything would alleviate his guilt where Cara was concerned. And that was the most frustrating thing obutf the entire experience. He’d never wanted to hurt her. He’d never thought he’d do so. And yet he had. He’d seen it on her face and it was an image he’d never shake.
Out of the corner of his eye, Reese noticed an envelope off to the side of his desk, an envelope with his name written in an unmistakable and distinctive flourish that sent a chill down his spine. Reese scowled as he tossed the thing, unopened, into his rubbish bin. He already knew he was a damned idiot. He didn’t need to see that spelled out in his sister’s precise penmanship. With any luck, he could avoid Sophia the rest of the season. She wouldn’t be happy about that, but their paths did not cross terribly often, and he’d ensure it remained that way for as long as possible.
Music Room, Atherton Park
Hadleigh, Essex
Playing the pianoforte often calmed Emma Atherton’s nerves, and though she was focused on the cheerful Vivaldi piece before her, calmness did not find her. Papa had suggested she head back out to the fair along with some of their guests, but Cara was still abed and the last thing Emma wanted was to traipse through the rows of the fair when her friend was recovering from such a vicious attack. Guilt swamped her anew as the memory of finding Cara in the yellow parlor the night before flashed in her mind. Even Vivaldi’s cheerfulness was not enough to wash that memory away.
“You’re a lovely musician, Miss Atherton.”
Emma struck a wrong chord and sucked in a breath before turning her head to meet Captain Gates’ gaze. She’d know his voice anywhere; the warm sound of his baritone was distinctively his and always sent a shiver of awareness coursing through her.
Leaning on his cane just in the threshold of the music room, Captain Gates filled out his regimentals rather nicely, and for once his brown eyes focused directly on her.
She swallowed a bit nervously. “Thank you, Captain,” she breathed out and cursed herself for sounding like a ninny.
He strode further into the room, his brow crinkled in confusion. “I don’t suppose you know what is going on around here?”
“The fair?” she asked, pushing off the piano bench to face him and then fretting with her fingers nervously. “Much the same as yesterday. Though, there’ll be a performance of Hamlet at the far edge this afternoon. Mama was quite pleased to have found this particular troupe. Do you like the theatre?” Blast it! Emma’s heart was pounding in her ears. Everything came out in a rush. It would be a miracle if he understood even half of what she’d said.
Captain Gates’ warm brown eyes twinkled just slightly as he seemed to bite back
a smile.
Emma wanted to hide under the piano. Goodness, he must think she was a complete featherbrain.
“No, not the fair, Miss Atherton,” he said. “It seems as though I’ve been abandoned in Essex. Apparently Darling left at the crack of dawn and even your brother has headed off to London to search out…Lord Michael Beck of all people.” He shook his head. “Something about that is odd, but I’ve not been entrusted with the truth of the matter.”
“Lord Michael?” Emma echoed. Lord Michael was…well, he was Lord Chopwell’s brother-in-law. Why in the world would Arch leave Hadleigh in the middle of the fair to…? Emma sucked in a breath as the most obvious answer to that question popped into her mind. Goodness, had Arch…or Lord Darling called Chopwell out last night? No, not Arch. It would have to have been Lord Darling, if Arch was searching out Lord Michael, assuming Chopwell had named the man as his second. But Darling wouldn’t really do such a thing, would he? Best case, he’d be exiled; worst case, he’d be dead.
“I can see they have entrusted you with the truth of the matter.”
“No.” Emma shook her head. “I’m just trying to fit the pieces together, actually.”
“I daresay you have more of the pieces than I do, Miss Atherton. Can I press upon you to tell me what you do know?”
Ever since Emma first met Captain Lucien Gates, she’d been struck by his handsomeness and by his honorable nature. She would have given anything in the world for his attention, to walk with him and talk with him and share secrets with him; but…Well, if Arch and Lord Darling were dealing with Lord Chopwell in some fashion, then the situation had everything to do with Cara. And what had happened last night was not Emma’s secret to share with anyone, not even Captain Gates.
Her heart twisted as she shook her head. “I’m afraid I can’t.”
He blinked at her as though she was speaking Greek. “I beg your pardon?”
“I wish I could, Captain. I wish I could tell you what I fear has happened, but I don’t know for certain, and even if I’m right, the tale isn’t mine to tell.”