He was the one who’d agreed to a wager to expose her, yet he was the one who’d lost his heart. He’d been well and truly hoisted by his own petard; duped by Miss Rosington as his sister had been by Mr Carstairs.
For a short moment he envied the strength of such single-minded passion, before a rush of pain coursed through him. It took all his willpower not to raise his head and bellow like a crazed beast across the ballroom before collapsing to his knees.
Instead he merely looked Xenia in the eye, trying to pay her the attention politeness required in the circumstances, for she clearly had more to say.
‘I’m sure Miss Rosington was very fond of you, Perry, for who could not be, but this was not about love. Before I go, I have to tell you that Miss Rosington was sent by Mr Carstairs to retrieve the locket Charlotte had taken.’
‘Nonsense!’
‘My dear Perry, why would Miss Rosington pretend to be interested in you when she was carrying on with Harry Carstairs? Of course she had an ulterior motive.’
Xenia had a point.
He clarified, ‘The locket containing Charlotte’s likeness, which Charlotte hurled at me in disgust the morning after Harry disappeared?’
‘That’s right, though it contained more than Charlotte’s likeness. The locket had six numbers engraved behind the miniature.’ They were near the entrance now and Xenia spoke more quickly. ‘The locket was given to Harry Carstairs with a letter outlining how to use it to claim his inheritance. Carstairs was to marry Charlotte that week; only he didn’t love Charlotte, he loved Miss Rosington whose dowry, alas, was too meagre to fund the high life they both required. So when Mr Carstairs realised just how great his inheritance would be, he tossed Charlotte over. Ah, but how can we forget that night. However, in his haste Harry lost the locket. He was lost without it for he had no record of the numbers required to open the safety deposit box, which contained his handsome reward.’ She brushed Perry’s cheek with her fingertips as though to soften the blow. ‘When Miss Rosington learned you, Perry, had the locket, Carstairs sent her to entice you into her lair. And very susceptible you proved, too.’
Perry blinked and shook his head. ‘It’s all nonsense. Miss Rosington is marrying her cousin. Not Carstairs.’
‘Lord Ogilvy always has been her intended, but she does not love him. You know that. No, she intended running away with Carstairs just as soon as she’d retrieved that locket. Since she prevailed upon you to hand it over without her being required to actually sleep with you, or visit your bedchamber, she had no more need of you.’ She clicked her tongue. ‘I’m sorry, Perry. It’s hard for a man to hear a truth like that. I know you’d grown fond of her and you feel cheated of the means by which were to have won our wager.’ Flicking open her little ivory fan, she regarded him over the top. ‘And now, if you won’t, I shall see Charlotte home. She looks half dazed, the poor child. Your Miss Rosington has a lot to answer for.’
His Miss Rosington? The trouble was, that even after all that had happened, he still wished she could be his.
Chapter Fourteen
At midday, two days following the terrible event that had changed Celeste’s life forever, Mary announced that Raphael was waiting in the drawing room and that he intended taking her to see the animals in the Tower.
‘He says he’ll not have your ill health on his conscience, and that as you’re so soon to be wed you must go out at least today to take the air,’ Mary reported.
Celeste, who was still in bed, pulled the covers over her head and declared she had no intention of ever seeing another human being ever again, much less any mangy, half-starved performing animals.
Then Raphael came marching up the stairs, throwing the door open and saying in unusually jovial tones, ‘Enough of your moping. Get dressed, Celeste, and let me prove you’ll not be consumed by fire and brimstone for showing your face in public. I intend showing the world I’m not ashamed of you. Isn’t that what you want?’
There was very little she could do to resist his single-minded determination to venture out with him. Once they were at the Tower, though, Celeste was nevertheless conscious of the interested stares and obvious whispers of more than a few patrons. And she knew it wasn’t her imagination.
Raphael had selected her gown: a bold and lavish confection of blue brocade adorned with scarlet bows. It did not match her mood by any means and she refused to be drawn by her betrothed’s uncharacteristic banter as he sauntered over the cobblestones, drawing her so fast in his wake she had to cling to her flat-topped straw hat to stop it blowing away, despite the ribbons beneath her chin. They were cousins and they were betrothed; she had no need of a chaperone yet she’d never felt so vulnerable or in need of one.
Really, she wanted to retreat back into her safe bedchamber and hide. She was glad she’d soon set sail for Jamaica. It was too painful to be confronted with all she’d lost, here in England.
When they were on the battlements of the South Tower, Raphael seemed disposed to pointing out the many views of note, and the barges upon the river. Celeste couldn’t care in the slightest about the view. Her heart was breaking.
Yet she’d never seen Raphael more carefree.
An enormous raven alighted on the crenellated battlement against which they rested and she moved away, stumbling into Raphael’s embrace. She didn’t miss the slight shudder he gave at the contact before he put her away from him.
Yet when an old beggar shuffled by and boldly put out his hand, she was surprised that instead of disgust for his shambling appearance and rags, Raphael rummaged in his purse for a coin. She closed her eyes against the pain of knowing he had as much love for her as any beggar that crossed his path, blinking with surprise to see the glint of gold as the beggar’s palm closed over not a coin, but the locket Raphael had gone to such pains to have Celeste reclaim.
Sweat prickled her scalp as she caught a glimpse of the ragged creature’s familiar eyes, which darted guiltily away from her gaze before he pulled down his cowl and shuffled away.
A quick intake of breath made Raphael turn in her direction, but his expression was guileless and his tone almost careless as he said, ‘Yes, I know more than you, Celeste, but don’t look at me with such opprobrium. I am not behind your fall from grace.’
She didn’t know what to say, stammering as she pointed to the disappearing shambling creature. ‘You gave him the locket.’
‘The truth is, I’ve been shielding you since that shameful night, for you’ve had enough to bear, my dear.’
‘Shielding me?’ She stared. ‘You’ve not shielded me from anything, Raphael.’ Tears rose close to the surface. ‘You’ve thrust me into the thick of it. You forced me to attend Lady Montague’s ball when you must have known I’d become a target. I was publicly shamed!’
Raphael considered her a moment. ‘Ah Celeste,’ he said softly. ‘If only they were the worst of the rumours swirling around. If it were possible to whisk you off to Jamaica right now in order to protect you from what I fear would truly break your heart, I would.’
‘Don’t you dare speak to me of protection, Raphael,’ she muttered. ‘You care nothing for me! You’d sacrifice me to the wolves if it furthered your happiness. Tell me, why did you give the locket to that beggar? Only it wasn’t a beggar, it was Harry, wasn’t it?’
Raphael rested his hand on the battlement and shook his head. ‘My dearest Celeste, do not look at me as if I’m the devil incarnate. Reserve your anger for your erstwhile admirer Lord Peregrine, who agreed to his lover Lady Busselton’s wager in which you were the spoils. Little did I know I was playing right into his hands by begging you to discover from him whatever you could.’ He reached across to touch her cheek, his expression aggrieved, but she drew back. Unperturbed he went on, ‘Only when the news was about town that Lord Peregrine and Lady Busselton’s wager was even listed in the Betting Book at White’s was I forced to act in a manner that would protect you as best I could.’
Celeste clutched her hand to her heart. ‘N
o!’ she whispered. ‘It cannot be true.’ He’d made mention of a wager in the vaguest of terms when she was still recovering, physically, from her ordeal. When he’d not elaborated she’d dismissed the idea. Forgotten it, even.
She shook her head wildly as she stepped back, stumbling on the flagstones. ‘Lord Peregrine would never have done such a thing! He may be a libertine but his regard for me was real!’
She had to believe it or her entire perception was off kilter. Seizing for crumbs, she cried, ‘But he didn’t ruin me, did he, Raphael?’ Her breath came quick and fast now. ‘Harry did! Your beloved Harry! Someone coerced him and he played along. What do you think of him now? Of the man who would be part of someone’s twisted plot to see me ruined. For that’s what it was, wasn’t it? I was an innocent pawn, nothing more.’
Raphael glanced at her before gazing into the distance. ‘Lord Peregrine only had to see you ruined, my dear,’ he murmured. ‘Not be personally responsible. Was it his abhorrence of innocence that was at the root of that? Or his devotion to Lady Busselton?’
Anger gave her backbone. ‘Well, Raphael, Harry may have used me and you may not love me, and but Lord Peregrine did. I know it. We were running away together. Eloping! I was responding to a message supposedly from him, only I was tricked into going to Harry’s residence.’
Peregrine raised an eyebrow. ‘Why, my dear, you are a dark horse. I think you’d have been wiser to have withheld that. Still, it does not change the fact that Lord Peregrine only sought you out after Lady Busselton proposed your ruin as the means by which he could win her wager. Ask anyone, though they might blush to tell you the truth.’
Celeste shook her head. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she whispered.
Raphael sighed. ‘My dear Celeste, you can imagine how hard it is for me to forgive you for your own treachery in view of what you’ve told me. Do not look at me as if you’re the only one wronged here.’
Celeste blinked. His every word was like a shard of pain being driven through her soul. Ignoring his remark, she whispered, ‘What was his reward?’
Raphael raised his eyebrows as if the question surprised him. ‘Why, Lady Busselton’s favours, of course. I told you they were lovers. Well, after the terms of the wager were satisfied they quickly became lovers. Lord Peregrine’s been dangling after her more than a decade before, and since her two husbands. All society knows it.’
Celeste could barely breathe. Each shallow intake was almost more than she could manage. She took a step backwards.
‘But why Harry? Harry doesn’t even like …’
‘Women? No, my dear, he does not. But Harry had little choice in the matter. Not when he owed Lord Peregrine such a large sum. Apparently Harry owed a lot of people money and when he returned to town, Lord Peregrine was the first to claim what he was owed. However, after some discussion the men came to the arrangement involving you. And no, I had no idea at the time, I assure you, but what could I do? Harry feared for his life. His creditors were baying for his blood and even after Harry had done his lordship’s bidding and enticed you into his bed, he still feared for his life. He wanted to take no chances so immediately slipped back into hiding. Lord Peregrine is a dangerous man.’ He indicated the corner of the battlement where Harry, in disguise, had last made an appearance. ‘I therefore needed to secure his freedom, and that meant retrieving the locket on Harry’s behalf and returning it to Harry, who will remain in hiding until our return to Jamaica.’
All Celeste’s anguished churnings over who was in fact behind her devastating fall from grace seemed to scream through her mind like a terrible wind storm until she was blinded and deafened by the sight of her cousin, her betrothed, the man into whose care she was entrusting her life, smiling guiltlessly at her.
‘How can you tell me all this and look as if you don’t even care?’ she cried, backing away. ‘You care nothing for me, Raphael. You never have! I hate you and I will never marry you!’
‘You have no choice, Celeste.’ Raphael spoke calmly. ‘Who would have you now? You are disgraced. You have no dowry. Unless you choose to take Holy Orders, you have nowhere to go.’
‘Perhaps I shall join Charlotte and we’ll both find peace and solace in a nunnery, for by God there’s little peace for me on this earth!’ Celeste positively screamed the words before picking up her skirts and rushing along the walkway to the staircase at the far end of the battlements. The descent was steep and narrow and ill lit, but she couldn’t remain with Raphael another moment.
Lord Peregrine had agreed to a wager in which she was the spoils? She’d given him her heart. She’d nearly given him her body and it wasn’t even consolation that he may have found scruples. Was he in truth disgusted by her? That was not a concept with which she was unfamiliar, having been betrothed to Raphael so long and learning his views on women.
Her world was in tatters and she needed to escape, if she could find somewhere that offered her refuge.
The treads of the narrow winding staircase were uneven. Twice she lost her footing but she kept on running. If Raphael could do this to her, then what other horrors had he in store? Blind terror spurred her on, fuelling her speed though she had no idea where she was going, her feet transporting her as if on wings—until she stumbled on a chipped step.
With a scream she spiralled into space; that disembodied feeling a precursor, she knew, of the pain to come. Well, so be it. Nothing could be more painful than knowing the man she was to marry would sacrifice her on the altar of his own twisted pursuit of happiness.
And then a pair of strong arms swept her up and bound her tight. Peering into the gloom, she gasped as she recognised her rescuer.
‘Lord Peregrine!’
Her heart, already in a state of upheaval, felt as if it were in danger of bursting out of her chest; ripping her in two in the process.
Here was the man who’d tricked her most cruelly. This villain had pursued her from the outset, wooing her with his pretence of growing regard, winning her trust only to sacrifice her to his own lustful desires.
For another woman!
Yet when once she was again in his strong embrace, she felt the connection between them as strong as ever. He’d followed her and now he’d saved her from breaking her neck, and although she could not tell what he felt right now, at least he didn’t withdraw at her touch as Raphael had. Yet he had wronged her. So cruelly!
‘Lord Peregrine?’ she managed, her breath coming in short, difficult bursts as she registered his arms tighten about her. ‘Let me go!’ She began to struggle. She hated him yet she could not rid herself of that compelling need to draw closer. He’d always been dangerous, even when she’d thought he desired her, admired her. Now he was even more dangerous, for the feelings of desire were all on her side, despite what he’d done to her.
‘Are you so cruel that you’d gloat over my painful situation? Let me go, I say!’
‘Painful?’ She felt the tightness in him and the angry timbre of his tone as he went on, ‘Or would that be conflicted? Well, it was your choice, my dear. You made your bed and you chose to lie in it. Don’t blame me if you have regrets.’
She squeezed shut her eyes, deeply conscious of the heat from his body.
‘I was drugged, my lord, as you well know.’ She glared at him through the gloom. ‘And now I am ruined, you have won your wager with Lady Busselton.’ Her voice broke. ‘May you have much joy of her. I hope that destroying my life was worth it!’
‘You destroyed your life with no help from me, Miss Rosington,’ he ground out. ‘Don’t blame me, for as God is my witness this was one unfortunate wager I had no intention of claiming on.’
‘But you have, my lord,’ she sobbed, ‘and as I daresay you take the Lord’s name in vain with as little compunction as you were going to take me, there’s no comfort to be gained from your cheap words.’
‘By God, but you’ve possessed me, Miss Rosington,’ he ground out as he drew her closer against his chest. ‘You have wronged me, cruelly.
You swore there was nothing between you and Carstairs but you lied to me, yet still I cannot rid my mind of you. You torment me!’
Eyes, like those belonging to the dangerous wild cats she’d seen incarcerated in the dark dungeons, blazed out from beneath his disdainfully arched eyebrows. Celeste shrank back from their malevolence but still he didn’t release her. He put his face closer to hers, his dark searching look boring into her very soul, it seemed.
She needed no greater proof that he was determined to destroy her. He really did hold her responsible for his sister’s shame and unhappiness.
‘You truly believe I was guilty of more than furnishing Harry with the petticoats to escape when I explained everything?’ It was indeed a terrible blow to know his vengeance could cut so deep. ‘It is my fervent wish that the truth will somehow be revealed to you, Lord Peregrine,’ she whispered harshly, for now that seemed about as likely as Celeste managing to avoid marriage with Raphael.
He paused for only a second to communicate what he thought of her remark, through blazing eyes and curled lip, and then suddenly his lips were no longer full of hate but of passion, as they took possession of Celeste’s.
Caught by surprise, she struggled momentarily before the energy that surged through her came from a different source: the determination to feel something from him that was not anger or indifference.
Passion. Whatever he’d done to her, whatever humiliation he might have engineered for her, there was no denying his passion was real as he held her pressed against his hard chest, still in his arms with the wall at her back. Perhaps he wanted to punish her for the fact that he desired her still, after tasting the fruits of his lust with Lady Busselton. His was the greed of a man who was never satisfied.
Yet as his mouth bore down hungrily upon hers and her initial resistance weakened, she turned instead into a pool of heated longing, all reason deserting her.
So this was passion? These heady sensations were what caused men and women to risk everything in exchange for the fleeting sensation of desiring and being desired. Her nipples ached and her body cried out for something more she couldn’t define as Lord Peregrine held her hard against him, only releasing her when Raphael’s disembodied voice floated down from the battlements above: ‘Celeste, I know you’re down there. There’s no point in running away when you have no choice in the matter.’
Wicked Wager Page 15