Freddie stilled at this. Apparently her rank did hold some weight. Harming a duchess certainly would draw unwanted attention their way. She prayed he realised that.
“Sit,” he barked suddenly, giving her another push.
She hadn’t been prepared for it and fell onto the stool—hard. Evelyn released a low cry of surprise.
“You may wish to release that woman,” came a voice from behind Freddie.
Pierce.
She let her shoulders sag and the man released her arm to turn to face him. “Another new face? What the devil is going on here tonight?” he declared. He thrust a finger at Sir Lloyd who remained sitting in the corner. “This is your fault. We never should have agreed to shelter you.”
“I paid you well,” the man blustered.
“Not enough to deal with unwanted visitors,” Freddie grumbled. He glanced between them as Evelyn came to her feet and inched around the man to stand at Pierce’s side. She half-expected Freddie to grab her again but apparently Pierce’s threatening expression was enough for him to think twice.
A strong arm wrapped around her waist and drew her into Pierce’s side. She swallowed as the two men eyed each other. Conversation had all but ceased. Only the tick of a nearby cuckoo clock and the occasional squeak of a chair as an occupant shifted on it echoed through the thick air.
“I have what I need,” Pierce said slowly. “We’ll leave and there need not be any trouble.”
“What about him?” Evelyn hissed, pointing at Sir Lloyd.
“Trust me,” he told her.
She nodded. Evelyn did. She really did.
“I have your confession,” he said quietly, patting his pocket. “You were right.”
Triumph burst through her and she almost forgot where she was as a grin broke across her face. Rupert had never gambled away their son’s inheritance. George had been lying. Thank goodness.
Freddie took a step forward and Evelyn’s grin vanished. “By all rights, I should kill you. These are tall cliffs—no one would know.”
“Several people would know,” Pierce replied calmly. “You really wouldn’t want the trouble that would come with killing us. People tend to notice when rich, titled folk disappear.”
“You don’t need to kill us,” Evelyn added. “We won’t say a word of this place. We have no reason to.”
She saw the indecision in his gaze. Risk an investigation into their disappearances and lose their hideout or release them and pray they didn’t tell anyone of the place. Frankly, Evelyn wanted to put the gambling den behind her and never think on it again.
The man folded his arms and gave a slow nod. “Very well—”
A crash sounded from behind her. She flinched and Pierce drew her into a protective hold. Then another crash as a chair was flung across the room. She was whirled away from Freddie and thrust back against the wall. Two men grappled where Freddie had been standing. The man had leaped behind the bar and was brandishing a bottle. Chaos broke out in every corner—bottles breaking, fists flying. She couldn’t be sure who or what had triggered it but somehow they’d become embroiled in a bar fight.
A man stumbled into her before Pierce could prevent him and she pushed him away with both hands. Pierce gripped her hand and led her to the entrance. Several more men blocked their way and one came swinging for them. A blow struck Pierce’s mouth, then the side of his face. Evelyn couldn’t help but cry out and ball her firsts, ready to leap to his defence but Pierce stepped in front of her and laid out the man with a punch before gripping her hand and urging her on once more.
They spilled out into the cool night air and didn’t stop until they had made it back to the old mine. There, they paused for breath. Pierce leaned against the stone and tilted his head back.
“What the devil were you thinking?” he demanded.
Evelyn ignored him. “You got the confession?”
“Yes.” He drew out the paper and waved it at her. “Turns out Sir Lloyd fathered a child to an important married lady. George was using the information against him. First to advance him through society and then to gain himself some land. He forced him to sign as witness.”
Evelyn snatched the paper from him, unable to read the writing in the dark night and held it close. “I knew it.”
“You did.” He came close and wrapped his hands around her arms. “Now don’t ever do something like that again.”
“Like what?”
“Like entering such a dangerous place alone.” In the moonlight, his eyes were dark and hooded, filled with annoyance and something else.
Evelyn couldn’t pinpoint what. “You went alone.”
“I can look after myself.”
“I couldn’t let you do that alone for me, what if you...you gambled or something...”
“Gambled?” He gave a dry chuckle and released her arms. “Evelyn, I haven’t gambled since I met you. Funnily enough, I haven’t needed to. Maybe you should think on why that is.”
She stared at him, feeling as though she was wading through water. Lips swollen, eye half-shut, he looked at her with an expression of wounded hurt that told her more of his wounds inside than out. Her mind felt thick and soupy. First talk of marriage, then... “I don’t understand. Pierce—I mean, Cyn—”
“Goddammit, I love you, Evelyn. You love me, even if you can’t bring yourself to say my name. I’m sure of it. I haven’t wanted to gamble since laying my gaze on you. You fulfil every desire of mine. What need have I to gamble?”
Evelyn stumbled a few steps back, as though the words he’d flung at her had struck her in the chest. Love? No. Surely not.
“We had an agreement, nothing more. I never promised more than...”
“Than to use me for your pleasure? That I well know. But you have my heart now, Evelyn.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “What are you going to do with it?”
Chapter Fifteen
After stopping the night at Plymouth, a quick telegram to his brother and ensuring Merry was looked after, Pierce’s temple throbbed and he longed for a bed. The subsequent train journey and carriage ride didn’t help his pains any further. But it wasn’t the physical pain causing him aggravation. No, it was the real ache inside him that made him feel as though he was breaking in two.
Evelyn had hardly said two words to him since his confession of love. She’d declared he needed rest and they’d spent the night in silence. After that, she had been a picture of cool duchess-like efficiency, helping him arrange for Merry to be taken care of and talking of what she was to do with George.
She being the imperative word. No more they or we. Still, hopefully his telegram to his brother would solve that conundrum.
By the time they’d reached the house, his jaw was tense and frustration boiled up inside him. Hell, he did have some pride, did he not? Was he really going to stay and beg for scraps of her affection? Let her pay him for doing what he now did out of love? He wasn’t sure he could stomach it, staying with her only to be cast aside once their arrangement ended.
No, he had to leave. And leave as soon as he could.
He dabbed his swollen lip experimentally and grimaced at the picture he must make. His eye was partially closed and pain jarred through him every time he tried to smirk at himself and what an idiot he was. Evelyn had never needed him, he’d known that. All his thoughts of marriage had been pure folly.
The carriage came to a halt in front of the house and he silently stepped out and aided her down. She barely looked his way before heading up the steps and pausing at the top one. He came to her side, ready to tell her this was it. Today, he’d leave.
“Pierce—”
He lifted a hand but before he could speak a young man came out of the open doors and swung his gaze between them.
“Mother.”
Evelyn rotated slowly her jaw dropping open. “Samuel! What are you doing here?”
“Well, is that any way to greet your son?”
She laughed, stepped forward and took him into her embrace. Samuel patted h
er back awkwardly and turned his glare back onto Pierce.
“The rumours are true then,” he said tightly.
He hadn’t inherited his mother’s red hair—instead an unruly mop of dark curls covered his head in what Pierce could only describe as a bohemian fashion. He supposed it might be stylish in Europe. But his eyes and what was currently a youthful face were certainly from his mother. In a few years, he’d be nipping at Pierce’s heels in the handsome stakes.
And he didn’t like Pierce one bit. Apparently the lad knew what Pierce was to his mother. He couldn’t blame him really.
“Let’s go inside and have some tea. I’m wearied,” Evelyn said diplomatically, glancing between the two of them.
Pierce could hardly be bothered to glower back. Samuel would be pleased to know he was giving up any idea of a claim to Evelyn’s heart before long. Once he’d had a quiet word with Evelyn and assured her Jasper would deal with George for her, he’d pack his belongings and return to London.
What the devil he was going to do with himself? He was still poor. Just a minor problem. But he wouldn’t take any more money from Evelyn.
They went through to the main drawing room and Evelyn rang for tea while handing over her hat, jacket, and gloves. Pierce removed his hat but tucked his gloves in his trouser pocket and merely undid his jacket. There was no sense in prolonging things.
“Evelyn, may I—”
The entrance of the butler forced him to cut his sentence short. A flush of red appeared on the man’s cheeks. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but there is something...I mean...you need to...” He retreated into the hallway and they followed.
Pierce couldn’t help but grin when he spied Jasper, dragging in a figure with a sack over his head.
“You ask, and I deliver,” Jasper announced.
“What is going on?” Evelyn asked.
“Bring him into the dining room. No sense in getting blood on the carpet,” Pierce ordered.
“Blood?” she cried.
Pierce ignored her and snatched the arm of the man to help his brother haul him into the dining room. “That was quick. You must have only got my telegram yesterday.”
He shook his head. “It just so happens Ash was at Stourbridge when I got your message. He delivered this devil to me.”
“Ash was at Stourbridge?” Pierce considered his quiet younger brother, trying to fathom what he’d be doing travelling there.
“Yes...” Jasper waved a hand as they dumped the man on a chair. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll explain later. Anyway, luck would have it that I was in the right place at the right time when I received your message. I didn’t think there was any sense in wasting time.”
“Well I appreciate your efficiency.” It meant he could deal with this chap and be on his way soon indeed.
“What is going on?” Evelyn demanded from behind him.
Pierce ignored her. “Did you harm him?”
“Just roughed him up a little. He didn’t wish to come easily.”
“I can’t blame him. Forgery, blackmail, potential extortion...he’s been a bad boy.”
He drew off the sack, and George blinked in the lamplight. True to his word, Jasper hadn’t really harmed him but he had a bloody mouth and probably looked a little like Pierce did right now. His hands were bound behind his back and his eyes were wide. Jasper had done a fine job of scaring him. Now it was up to Pierce to ensure he remained scared.
“Mother...” Samuel protested when she pressed him out of the room.
Evelyn came forward and thrust the signed confession his way. “You tried to steal from me, Mr. Whitbury.”
“What are you going to do to me?” George asked, his voice muffled by his swollen lip.
Pierce leaned in, meeting his gaze and keeping his voice low. “I’m going to make sure you never swindle anyone again.”
“You’re going to kill me?”
He exchanged a look with his brother and they smirked. “First, you’re going to write a nice little letter, admitting to your crimes of forgery and blackmail. Then we’ll consider what to do with you.”
Of course Pierce had no intention of killing the man but it wouldn’t hurt to let him believe that for a while. A cocky chap like George needed to be scared into behaving. The chances were a swindler like him was too used to things coming easily. He charmed his way through life, taking advantage of people like Evelyn who had no one to support them.
“Evelyn, will you fetch some paper and a pen?”
She glanced warily at them all. “Pierce, what are you...?”
“Will you for once in your life trust me?” he bellowed.
Chastened, she scrabbled for some paper in the nearby bureau. Pierce might have regretted his harsh words normally but not today, not when he felt like his soul was tearing in two at the thought of never making her his.
With unsteady hands, George wrote down his crimes and signed the document. Before he handed it over, an arrogant glint entered his gaze again. “What are you going to do with this? No one will believe it. It was done under duress. It means nothing.” He glanced at Evelyn. “Getting your man-whore to do your work for you? It’s hardly duchess-like behaviour is it? Will people really believe someone like you after all this unseemly behaviour?”
Darkness encroached on his vision. Pain blasted through his knuckles before he realised what he’d done. George slumped in the chair, the confession slipping from his fingers. Pierce bent to pick it up and handed it over to Evelyn. Weariness ate into him once more.
“Jasper will deal with him. Here’s your confession.”
With that, he turned and left, ignoring his brother calling his name and then Evelyn doing the same. He headed out of the building and began walking down the lane to the main road. Hopefully he’d use his charm to garner a lift to London. It was far more likely he’d get a ride with his clothes on. Once he’d returned home, he’d send for his belongings.
And he’d never see that woman again. Pierce knew when he was defeated and this was it.
Chapter Sixteen
The London townhouse seemed empty without Pierce. Tension thrummed through Evelyn, making her movements still while she tried to finish penning a letter to Lady Tisdale. It didn’t matter that Samuel was with her and she could hear him humming as he browsed the newspaper somewhere behind her. The house still felt empty.
Three months. She pressed a hand to her chest where the ache that had never left resided. She hadn’t been to London since then. Had not been brave enough. She, who prided herself on being bold and outrageous at every turn had been too terrified to step foot in London for fear of running into him. Of course, fear governed her every movement, did it not? That was something she had begun to realise since he’d left her with a terrified George at her feet. The man had vanished off to America or Australia or somewhere, never to be heard from again once she’d released him.
And Pierce had left too.
Leaving her with a deep throb that refused to abate. She’d only been protecting herself, she reasoned. Why open herself up to more hurt? Except...except she was hurting now, was she not? Evelyn shook her head at herself and pushed aside the letter. Her penmanship was atrocious today. She doubted Lady Tisdale would be able to read a word.
Evelyn pressed fingers to her temples and rested her elbows on the desk to peer out of the window. Every time she saw a dapper gentleman, her heart bounded. Maybe he’d find out she was in town. Perhaps he’d come to find her and beg her to marry him.
Perhaps she’d say yes.
No. Yes. Oh blast, she didn’t know what she was doing. Pierce had his pride and she couldn’t blame him for leaving before their arrangement was done. After all, had she not brought the man to the very lowest point? She’d taken all he had to give—his love, his care, his time—and thrown his offer in his face. He hadn’t even taken her money. He had nothing to show for the aggravation she’d caused him. What was he doing to survive now? Had his brother offered his support? She hoped so.
; “Mother, stop sighing.”
She twisted to view her son as he lowered his newspaper. “Was I sighing?”
“Yes, and you keep doing it. You did it all the way here and you’ve been staring out of windows and sighing for near on three months now.”
“Forgive me, I didn’t realise I had become such an annoyance,” she snapped back, half-heartedly. The gumption had gone from her, withered away. What was the point in feigning boldness when she knew the truth now? Her entire life was governed by fear.
“You know that Pierce fellow is in the newspaper.” Samuel watched for her reaction.
She tried not to give one but she felt her shoulders straighten in spite of herself. “Is he in trouble?”
“Well, I suppose it depends what you think of as trouble. A big fight is being advertised. Looks like the man has gone into boxing.”
“Boxing?”
She tried to imagine elegant Pierce with his fists raised, swinging a punch at a man. And then she recalled how he’d reacted at the gambling den and with George and found herself able to piece together both sides of him. When Pierce needed to, he’d defend those he cared for to the death. But boxing? Why would he be doing that?
“Seems like he’s making a name for himself,” he murmured. “Odds are he’ll win today.”
“Today? When is this fight?”
He drew out his pocket watch and flicked it open. “Three o’clock. In half an hour’s time.”
Evelyn twined her hands together. He could be hurt. He could die. Boxers died regularly, did they not? Or at least were injured severely. The jagged pain tearing at her heart like a beast’s claws made her breath stifle. She couldn’t let him die.
Not without...
God, she loved that man. She’d love him even if they were apart. If he died or something happened to him and she wasn’t with him, she’d regret it forever. The pain wouldn’t be any less simply because she’d tried to keep herself away.
Would it be worth it, though? To open herself up and suffer further potential hurt? She considered the times they’d spent together and the pure joy he’d brought her.
Sinful Liaisons (Cynfell Brothers Book 3) Page 11