Rowan leaned back on his heels, straightening up to use the furniture to stand, and then held out a hand to help Galen back up. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”
“Yes.” Galen looked him squarely in the eyes. “Granted, I’m a little crazed, so don’t ask me to swear that I’ll follow it, West, but yes, I want to hear it.”
“When did she discover all of this?”
“Last night.”
Rowan drew his fingers over his chin, clearly thinking things through before speaking. “It’s too soon.”
“Pardon?”
“It’s too soon to approach her. She’ll be too emotional to hear anything you say, and I’m afraid you’ll be no better off for the attempt, Galen.” Rowan nodded, as if to underline his own wisdom by agreement. “I think you should wait a few days and let her catch her breath.”
Galen held out his hand, shaking Rowan’s hand. “I’ll leave you to your sorting and repairing, West. Have you sent word to Michael?”
“You’re not going to wait, are you?”
Galen’s expression didn’t change. “Send for Michael. Good day, Rowan, and be sure to let me know if there’s anything I can do.” He made a quick bow and left the library without another word.
Galen wasn’t sure what he could do to win her back. He wasn’t sure what words even existed to bridge the chasm his actions had carved between them or if there was a gesture grand enough to make her reconsider him.
But one thing he knew with absolute certainty.
He wasn’t going to wait before he tried.
Chapter 22
“What a lovely gown!” A very young and beautiful Lady Forrester had befriended her for the evening, and Haley was grateful for the distraction. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a clever sleeve! Everything else I see is endless draping and rouching, but this! It’s like a delicate basket weave, but of silk.”
“It’s my own creation,” she admitted, feeling braver about the subject because of Jacqueline’s sincere compliments and sweet nature. “I enjoy making my own things.”
“Well, I’ve heard from more than one woman this Season that there is a fierce quest to discover the cunning genius behind your dresses,” she said, squeezing Haley’s hand reassuringly. “But I’ll keep your secret if you wish!”
“Thank you, Lady Forrester. I’m wishing I’d met you weeks ago . . .”
“Oh, I don’t think I could have kept a delightful secret like this for that long!” Jacqueline teased. “It’s perfect timing that we’re friends now, for you’ll think me an even-tempered and honorable creature, and be spared my worst traits.”
“And what traits are those?” Haley asked with curiosity.
“I would never say!” she laughed. “But my husband even admits he has never met a woman more impossible, nor loved any other as much, so I cannot be too terrible!”
At the mention of a husband’s love, Haley felt the pleasure she’d had in the conversation instantly bleed away. It felt petty to envy her new friend her happiness, but her own heartache was too recent. “No, not too terrible.”
“You should be dancing! I would refer you to my cousin, Wilbur, but he was the worst dancer in London last Season and has now vowed to never make another attempt.” She shook her head. “I’d be grateful, normally, to see all the toes of my friends safe at last, but what a social albatross to cart him around from party to party so that he can mope in corners.”
“I wasn’t going to dance this evening.”
“Really?” Lady Forrester eyed her with new speculation. “I hope you don’t mind my saying, but how is that possible?”
“I prefer not to.” Haley hoped she didn’t sound too cheeky. “How is that impossible?”
Jacqueline smiled. “It is impossible if it’s true that you just recently ended your engagement to a certain successful industrialist! For that kind of brave or remarkably insane action simply must be followed up by a cavalier demonstration that you are, in fact, better off without him and ready for a happier and far wealthier blue-blooded prospect!”
“By dancing?”
“At the very least!” Lady Forrester looked back over the guests, as if openly seeking Haley’s next prospect. “You are too lovely to be a good wallflower. Trust me, I know all about wallflowers! My older sisters were notorious at blending into the draperies, and I thought my mother would die from all the fuss she would make afterward. I still think they did it deliberately to enjoy my mother’s theatrics. Mind you, they both made incredible matches once they’d determined to mend their ways!”
“As easy as that?” Haley asked, marveling at the elusive idea that a woman could change the course of her life by determination alone.
“Well”—Jacqueline bit her lower lip, a mischievous gleam in her eyes giving a few of her secrets away—“they may have had a bit of a stealthy push from their younger sister, who wasn’t going to be allowed to come out until they were married. But what is life without an adventure or two? And it all worked out in the end!”
Haley could only nod, beginning to realize that the sprightly Lady Forrester might indeed be the most charming troublemaker she had ever encountered. Lord Forrester is bound to lead an adventurous and happy life, I suspect.
“Shall I help you find a partner for the next dance?” Jacqueline offered brightly.
“If you wish, but . . .”
“Come, let’s step forward and see who we can find in the crush to—”
“Miss Moreland!” Rand Bascombe addressed her as he approached the pair. “What a delight to see you out this evening! Ah, Lady Forrester, wasn’t it?”
“It was and is.” Jacqueline nodded. “I was just encouraging my new friend to dance, Mr. Bascombe.”
“As well you should. Would you care to dance with me, Miss Moreland?”
Haley would rather have spent an evening with her back against a wall, but she couldn’t afford to be rude in front of Lady Forrester. “Yes, thank you.”
Bascombe bowed to Lady Forrester and swept Haley onto the floor before she could demur or say anything else to her new friend. “Aren’t you enjoying yourself this evening, Miss Moreland?”
“Yes, of course.” It was the proper answer, but hardly enthusiastic.
“Come now, I understand you’ve had a disappointment with your engagement ending so suddenly, and I am so sorry to hear of it. I thought you and Mr. Trumble were such a . . . lovely couple.” He turned her perfunctorily around the dance floor. “But you are too beautiful a young woman to want for company, Miss Moreland, and I’m sure a dozen hearts in the Ton cheered to think you were not taken.”
“It is not a cheerful subject, Mr. Bascombe. Please . . .”
“We’ll leave it, then. But while I have you,” he continued, “I must let you know that as a friend, I have a favor to ask—and of course, a favor to offer you in return.”
“What kind of favor?” she asked warily.
“I want you to send word if Mr. Hawke contacts you again, or if you have a meeting. For you see, I still think you’re the most likely person for him to share his secrets with—or perhaps he already has! And since I suspect he is no longer on good terms, you might feel differently about helping me in this regard.”
Haley’s mouth fell open involuntarily before she realized it, then she pursed her lips quickly in shock. “Mr. Bascombe, I—”
“It’s no betrayal to speak of these things, Miss Moreland, when a man has treated you so cruelly. And how hard would it be to answer one of his letters and feign forgiveness if it suited you?” His grip on her fingers tightened to keep her from pulling away. “For if you will help me, I think I may be in a position to help your father with his financial straits.”
She was speechless. That he knew of her relationship with Galen was too unfathomable—and too horrifying to absorb in a single waltz. “You cannot . . . believe . . .”
His expression became intensely serious, and his hold on her was suddenly a subtle prison as they made another turn ar
ound the floor. “I am relying on you, Miss Moreland. Any conversations regarding India that Mr. Hawke shared with you are quite literally worth their weight in gold to me and to others.”
The music ended, and he took a step back, releasing her at last.
“Mr. Bascombe.” Haley took a deep breath. “What in the world can have happened to Mr. Hawke in India that would fascinate you so much?”
“If you knew, you would know not to ask. But there’s no need to explain why I need this information, Miss Moreland. I’ll depend on your discretion not to repeat this offer to anyone else—and you can depend on mine in return.”
“You . . . are entirely serious.”
“Never doubt it, Miss Moreland. We have a mutual enemy now, and that makes us even better friends, you and I.” He bowed again. “I’ll wait for your note.”
Haley watched him walk away, trying to hide her astonishment and confusion.
“Miss Moreland?”
Haley turned, praying her distracted state wasn’t too evident on her face. “Yes.” She realized instantly that Lady Forrester had made good on her promise to assist her friend in making a better show of the evening.
Jacqueline’s smile was far too innocent. “May I present my cousin, Mr. Wilbur Parrish? It seems he’s recovered his good humor enough to beg a dance!”
The surly expression on Mr. Parrish’s face belied her words, but he bowed all the same. “May I have the next dance, Miss Moreland?”
Haley spared one look to Lady Forrester and accepted that there was nothing to be done. She was just going to have to make the best of it and keep hoping that she could stay one step ahead of the worst that the Fates had set out for her.
Only one thing was certain. Bascombe had spoken of enemies and favors, and all she knew was that there wasn’t a soul on the earth she’d betray at Rand Bascombe’s bidding. Not even if it meant her life.
“Well? Will she cooperate or not?” Melrose barked from his corner in Bascombe’s study.
“She is a waste of time! She’s either too enamored to tell us what we want to know, or Galen has already paid her off to keep her mouth shut!” another man said from his seat by the fire.
“If he’d paid her off, then why are her father’s creditors starting to circle like vultures?” a third gentleman noted cynically, the whiskey in his glass sloshing onto the floor unnoticed.
“She’ll send word to me when she’s ready.” Rand interrupted them all. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and once she accepts that her only choices are assisting me or marrying some rheumy baron who’s out for a third young wife . . . Revenge will seem a sweet selection.”
“It’s not a subtle piece of business, old man.” A voice full of ice made every man in the room involuntarily shudder, as the fifth man in their company spoke from the shadows along the far wall. “You’ve been promising a great deal to the Company for weeks. Be careful that you aren’t the one in line for a bit of fury when they grow impatient with your games. For make no mistake”—his voice dropped in volume but carried to Bascombe as if he were whispering directly into his ears—”you’ll bleed if you don’t deliver the Jaded’s secrets soon.”
Chapter 23
Galen searched the room, nervously looking for any sign of Haley. Lord Kendall’s card party was a dull affair, but Galen wouldn’t have missed it for the world. So far, the social invitations and events on the family’s calendar had yet to change, and he’d been able to plan his own evenings accordingly.
A ball would have been far preferable to this dreary gathering, but let’s hope the quiet makes it easier to find her.
He deferred another invitation to sit at one of the tables and continued his surveillance, circling the rooms with all the various games and equally varied players. The wealth changing hands was something that wouldn’t have arrested his attention years ago, but Galen had a new awareness of each coin’s meaning. It all goes so quickly. I could gamble until I’d won a thousand fortunes, and I would still feel like a pauper. Perhaps I should tell her that. That she’s robbed me of my heart, and that I’ll happily spend every penny I have on her happiness to ransom it back—
“Mr. Hawke!”
Galen turned in surprise at Lord Moreland’s friendly hail, disappointed that he seemed to be alone. But the man looked much more robust than he had at their last meeting, his face a healthier color, and his cheeks had filled out slightly. “Lord Moreland, what a pleasure to see you again.”
“A pleasure to be seen, I can say with all honesty. Though I’m not one for the tables.” He eyed a game of casino longingly, but then turned back to Galen with a sober expression. “Are you a gambling man?”
“Only when society requires it, Lord Moreland.” Galen took a deep breath and decided to take a direct strategy. “May I speak to you for a few minutes?”
“Yes, yes of course.” The men stepped away from the tables and retreated to a conversational area near the windows. “Here, let’s take our rest here and you may tell me what is on your mind.”
“Thank you, your lordship.”
“Though I warn you, from the way your notes seem to be flying back unopened out of the doors of my house, I am at a loss.” Lord Moreland chose one end of the settee and gave Galen a searching look. “You seem like a perfectly reasonable choice to me, so if you’ve come to ask why my daughter seems to have taken leave of her senses, I pray you’ll attempt another topic.”
“I had a slightly different topic in mind.” Galen was determined to see the ghost of his past addressed and set aside, once and for all.
“Thank God!” Lord Moreland leaned back in relief. “Then, let’s have it.”
“I was hoping you would tell me more about John Everly.”
Lord Moreland’s face betrayed his surprise, but he obliged Galen all the same. “The Everlys were our close neighbors years ago, when they resided for a short while at Frostbrook Manor. The family was extremely respectable, and Carlton Everly used to hunt with permission on our lands. I liked him a great deal, but his wife was a quiet, sickly woman. I don’t really remember much of her, at all. Though my dear wife did deliver more than one basket of whatnots to cheer her when she could. My darling, Margaret, was forever thinking of others!”
“And John?”
“He and his brother used to come over and tease Haley to tears.” He smiled at the memory. “But they became fast friends eventually, running wild through the countryside and getting into every manner of mischief. John even protected her from a local bully, according to Haley, and I marvel that he’d turned out so well—in light of their beginnings.”
“But they came to love each other?”
Lord Moreland raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Love? Did I give you that impression?”
Galen’s world ground to a halt. “You did.”
“It was a jest, I’m sure. After all, they were far too young to do more than bounce about the village like puppies. We laughed when she came home with a ribbon tied around her wrist and said that they’d become engaged! It was a simple childish game, but sweet enough.”
Galen’s stomach clenched around a growing shard of ice. “How old was she?”
“Twelve? No, thirteen! For that was the year I bought Margaret thirteen bonnets to celebrate each year of our precious daughter’s health and happiness.” Lord Moreland’s eyes had yet to shed their faraway sheen as memories of times gone by held him captive. “Then they moved off as Mr. Everly’s business required him more in Town, I believe, and I don’t think I could say much more of them—except I bought Carlton’s stable out on a whim! Everly had a good eye for horseflesh, but no need for so many in Town. Too much expense, he said.” He seemed to remember Galen’s presence. “Was that helpful?”
Thirteen years of age. It was a boyish crush that John had spoken of, not any formal declarations from a man with any seriousness. He’d loved her, but not . . . Oh, God, I judged and condemned her on the word of a child. Because truly, John, you were a child to speak of
her so! You never loved the woman! There was no betrothal! It was all wishful thinking and innocent nostalgia and I . . . I almost destroyed her for it—which officially makes me the worst villain to ever walk.
“Yes, thank you.” His tongue felt as if it were coated with sand.
“We recently heard of John’s death abroad.” He shook his head sadly. “Are the Everlys acquaintances of yours, Mr. Hawke?”
And it gets worse. Because I don’t think I can lie anymore.
“John Everly was a dear friend, Lord Moreland. He spoke of Miss Moreland with great affection.”
“Oh! I’m grieved but comforted to hear it. I’d lost touch with them entirely over the years and always wondered if they remembered their neighbors. I’ll have to see if I can find Carlton and send him a belated note of condolence.”
“His parents reside in Chesterfield. I’ll send you the address.”
“Thank you.” He shifted in his chair. “May I ask you, Mr. Hawke, what trespass have you committed that has my daughter so set against you?”
Self-loathing almost made him confess all, for the sheer pleasure of letting Lord Moreland kill him, but he thought better of it. “I’ve committed too many trespasses to name, your lordship, but I can only hope the lady’s memory will prove forgiving.”
Lord Moreland gave him a rueful laugh and stood to end their conference. “Haley forgets nothing, but I’ve never known a girl with a greater heart, so I’ll just wish you luck, young man.”
“Thank you, Lord Moreland. I’ll need all the luck I can muster.”
Galen started to make his way back to the main room and walked directly into the path of a jovial, red-faced Herbert Trumble. “Mr. Hawke! Now I know I am in the best of company!” Herbert had his hand in a vigorous shake before Galen could think of an escape. “Though I’m not one to gamble, sir! Make no mistake, if I lose any money it will be because I’ve not repaired a hole in my pockets and not for a silly game.”
Revenge Wears Rubies Page 25