The Last Gamble

by Anabelle Bryant

  Luke clenched his teeth.

  Clubs, spades, diamonds and hearts.

  Damn it to the Devil.

  Shite.

  Bloody hell.

  Bloody, bloody hell.

  Reciting expletives wasn’t working. A piercing flame of jealousy fired his blood but he could not allow it to show. Until he found Nate, he held no claim on anyone’s actions other than his own. Another beat of mental war and he’d calmed enough to reply. ‘We will know soon enough, won’t we? In the meantime, consider me protective by nature.’ He pushed his empty glass forward, stood with a straightening of his shoulders and made his way home.

  Chapter Fifteen

  After finishing a breakfast tray in her room, Georgina flagged a hackney at the corner and instructed the driver to Mayfair. The sky mirrored her mood, secretive and foreboding, the colour a rare mixture of pewter and lavender so dark in spots she thought the day neglected its duty by leaving another twelve hours work to the night. But no, thankfully last evening was over. Having found little sleep, she was torn between the tempting remembrance of Luke’s wicked kisses and her shameless behaviour. She knew it was wrong, improper, downright scandalous, but she couldn’t conjure regret no matter how hard she chastised herself.

  There was no denying the intimate interludes she shared with Luke were temporary and fleeting. He would soon reclaim his son, his priorities focused on that one imperative task as they should be. And she owned enough troubles without creating new ones. Still, the memory of his heated mouth on her skin, on her breast, caused a forceful yearning inside she had no way to label. Best she push it from her mind and concentrate on the task at hand.

  Now, taking a chance her sister kept the same schedule as when Georgina had resided at home, she sat against the worn seat of the hack and braced herself for the bumpy ride. She doubted anyone would pay attention to a dowdy woman inside a rented vehicle, but just in case, she kept her head down, confident the rush of pedestrian traffic and threatening cloud cover would keep observation to a minimum.

  It seemed like forever, most especially to her bottom as she bounced over every bone-jarring rut in the roadway, until the hack slowed at the corner of Hemlock Street. She carefully disembarked near the familiar street clock, the black base and column an appropriate post. Time passed slowly and, after fifteen long minutes, her resolve not to reflect on the past withered. Tired of examining the tips of her boots and too scared to examine her emotions, she scanned the horizon, the neighbourhood as recognizable as the beat of her heart.

  Clusters of chimney tops on slated black rooves puffed their domestic purpose up and down the street. It mattered little she’d fled London, left this street in tears, all she loved abandoned in a decision to protect her sister and family. She’d make the same choice again considering the alternative.

  Joy, her younger sister, was a bit flighty and spontaneous, and at times she puzzled over the simplest of questions, but the qualities didn’t stop Georgina from loving her dearly. In kind to her name, Joy smiled often and laughed at life. After Georgina’s birth, the physician told their mother she could no longer conceive children, but less than a year later Joy arrived and was named for her unexpected and delightful existence.

  By living apart, secreted away in Coventry, Georgina had managed to keep her emotions at bay, blanketing how much she missed her family with the righteous notion she protected them all from a ruined reputation. But now, as she stood across the street from home, she ached with the misery of her decision. She shuffled her feet in a restless pattern, knowing all too easily they might lead her to the doorstep.

  Yet life was complicated here. Society wielded strict, inflexible rules. Status and reputation forced people to do and say things that might otherwise be unthinkable. She missed her parents, as well as her sister, but she did not miss the rigidity of the upper ten. An ironic smile turned her lips. With striking contrast, as vivid as when she’d stood outside The Underworld, she realized a whole different reality existed inside the peak-roofed row-house with its crescent-shaped terrace.

  As if reflecting on her past unleashed a horrific nightmare, a sleek black landau turned the corner and swept to a stop in front of her family’s address. A shiver of dread rippled through her to lock her focus in morbid fascination with a reaction so hideous and portentous, she gagged. A spike of fear pierced her lungs and constricted the next breath. She clutched the clock post, her grip white-knuckled as she closed her eyes in a prolonged blink to banish her fear and regain composure.

  Another breath and she’d tremored past the impact of seeing Lord Muller arrive at her home. Yet all too soon came a second shock: her sister, lively and attentive, dressed for an outing in a smart, ornamented bonnet, emerged from the house with her maid two steps behind. Muller handed them into his carriage and the conveyance whisked away before Georgina could process the events.

  What happened? Had her eyes deceived her by conjuring the most odious set of circumstances imaginable in punishment of her departure? Lord Muller was the solitary reason she’d abandoned London, run like a coward, confused and panicked, thinking her exit would rid the family of his conniving clutch.

  Worse, Joy already had a suitor. A kind, level-headed gentleman who truly cared for her welfare and would provide a healthy dose of consistency to her sister’s often inventive ideas. Something was not right here. Some explanation must exist for Joy to look so pleased as she departed with Lord Muller.

  Georgina hemmed her bottom lip, overwhelmed and, for the first time in many weeks, entirely alone. She could not cross the cobbles and knock on the door. Oh, her parents would be elated to see her, but how would her return remedy the problem? Lord Muller likely remained livid at her abrupt disappearance. It was all such a tangled mess, her past and present – and future happiness – interwoven.

  Before her cousin, Lord Muller, had taken control of their financial security, her uncle had counted every coin and, while Georgina’s family lived a comfortable life, the man never failed to remind it was all due to his generosity. In truth, to use the word in reference to the situation was an injustice. With her uncle’s death, her cousin had become more adamant than ever to place her family at a tenuous juncture. She could only assume her uncle purposely misconstrued her father’s words, made in a bedside vow, to watch over his nephew, though the man needed no keeper.

  By the next day, despite Uncle lingered, a strict codicil had been added to the will. She laced her fingers tight in a futile attempt to cease their tremble and forced her feet to move away. Manipulation and scheming were beyond her inventory of skills, but her cousin seemed adept at both.

  How could one be expected to wed their relation? A perverse obsession with bloodlines and wealth would serve the instigation. Consanguinity, the detestable and somewhat reprehensible practice of marrying one’s first cousin, was accepted within the ton. Betrothal to a family member would cause a twitter of gossip, no more than a speculative notice, while a man bastard born would be literally shunned.

  She needed to hail a hackney and return to Manchester Square where she’d determine what action to take. But no, surely Vivienne would see trouble in her face, ask questions, and pry for answers in the well-meaning manner girlfriends often employed. Georgina cared too much for Vivienne’s condition to cause her undue worry.

  Then what could she do? Burdening Luke with her problem while he fought to have his son returned was out of the question. He was so close now, she would never interfere. Poor Nate must be terrified and confused. Luke hid his turmoil well, but she read every emotion in his eyes and his suffering was palpable.

  She breathed deep and searched for a solution. Perhaps Max. She’d perceived him as the most forthright of the three proprietors. It was early in the day and he should still be at home, the gaming hell an evening preoccupation, but then Vivienne might see her as well. Her thoughts grew muddier with each step across the cobbles. Who should she trust? What would they say when she told the entire story? Tears blurred her
vision as she hailed a hackney, unsure how she’d managed to walk so far, numb with confusion. Her heart thudded along in synchronized beat to her boot heels and, as the hackney took to the street, jutting out into the traffic of greater London, she didn’t give a damn who saw her there.

  ‘As if Dursley hasn’t caused enough harm, he’s had my apartments at The Albany upended and searched through.’ Luke tossed his cards to the baize-covered table with disgust.’ It was half past four in the afternoon and the doors of The Underworld wouldn’t open for another few hours, but the three friends had decided to meet, their lives at odds of late, supervising the hell and attending to personal matters.

  ‘What was he looking for?’ Cole shuffled the deck and began to deal.

  ‘Mayhap his conscience.’ Max flipped several chips into the centre of the table and spread his cards in his fist.

  ‘At least with Georgina and a little luck, the matter will be settled and I will have Nate returned home.’

  An uneasy solemnity muted the table and it wasn’t because the men considered their cards or calculated wagers. With Max anticipating the arrival of his first baby and Cole newly married, his friends could easily image the agonizing punishment of being unable to locate a child. That fact magnified their empathy.

  ‘Where was the lovely governess off to today?’ Max flicked his eyes towards Luke and then back to his cards. ‘Did you send her on an errand of importance?’

  Luke’s head shot up. ‘What are you talking about? I assumed she was at your house with Vivienne. Isn’t she?’

  ‘Not since early this morning.’ Max discarded and drew another from the deck. ‘She left at first light and was still out of house when I made to come here thirty minutes ago.’

  ‘Where did she go?’ Luke heard himself, the strained control that laced each word. His friends eyed him in question but he paid no heed. ‘I asked where she went.’

  ‘Hell if I know. I’m not her keeper.’

  ‘Neither are you.’ Cole elbowed him and collected the chips at the centre. ‘No one doubts what’s at risk, but you can’t look like that…’ He hitched a thumb in Luke’s direction. ‘…Just because the governess wished to see the sights. She might be paying a social call or shopping on Bond Street.’

  None of these suggestions mollified Luke, his temper steeping, because none of the reasonable ideas to explain her absence sounded like something Georgina would do. She’d made such an adamant fuss over not returning to London, it didn’t seem likely she would skip off to a morning at the shops. His friends weren’t aware, but Luke knew Georgina’s desire to stay invisible.

  A mocking voice in his head asked when he’d memorized her behaviours or conversed long enough to understand her personality. When had she become more than a means to an end? He’d allowed her to matter on a deeper level, a place of importance where few were permitted. Still, he struggled to find reason for her absence.

  She couldn’t visit Dursley. That point was moot. Then where did she go? A lover? Lord Tucker? Had Georgina mentioned where the lord travelled when he’d left Coventry? Luke sifted through every conversation shared in search of a clue and grew annoyed when his effort proved scattered and worthless.

  ‘It’s your turn to deal.’ Cole shoved the deck of cards in Luke’s direction.

  ‘I chose not to have her watched.’ She distracted me with those brilliant blue eyes.

  ‘You considered that idea?’

  ‘Not in earnest.’ Luke blew out a breath of irritation. ‘She wouldn’t deceive…’ He’d almost finished the sentence, his hands busy with the cards, before he realized what he was about to say.

  ‘But she did, didn’t she?’ Cole spoke in a low mutter.

  ‘She’s hiding something. She could be in trouble. It’s not the same.’ The thought of Georgina in danger, fearful and alone, brought every protective cell in his body to alert. For several beats, only the flick of the cards rent the room. ‘How would you feel if Gemma or Vivienne concealed something of importance from you?’ His voice sounded tight, though he’d calmed considerably, his brain busy considering the intriguing enigma which composed Georgina.

  ‘That’s entirely different. We’re married.’ Cole stated this with such pride one would think he accepted an award as the first male who braved the institution.

  ‘You can’t keep her under lock and key, no matter what’s at risk,’ Max added in a solemn tone.

  Luke worked to recall his relationship with Josephine. It seemed so long ago though it was only five years. Everything seemed simpler then, uncomplicated and carefree, without the assertive image of a particular governess intruding in his every thought.

  He discarded the two of clubs and drew another card from the deck without comment or change of expression. When had Georgina’s importance superseded her usefulness in locating Nate, one dependent on the other? Where had she gone this morning? Why was she still there? With whom?

  Unable to sit still with his chaotic thoughts, he stood, the chair scraping across the floor with his abrupt action. ‘I’ll be back later.’ He dropped his cards face up on the table, a full house of queens and kings, all hearts, landing in a soft sweep.

  ‘Where were you today?’

  Luke stormed into the parlour, his eyes accusing Georgina of countless sins and dishonest acts. What had the man imagined to arrive at Manchester Square in anger?

  ‘Luke, I didn’t know you were here. I thought you were with Max at The Underworld.’ Vivienne rose from her chair, a curious smile fading as he neared.

  Georgina’s breath hitched. He seemed to draw all the air from the room with his presence and even now, in his angry approach, he couldn’t be more handsome. His expression was hard, but brilliant, as if his features had been carved from a rare and valuable gemstone.

  When she’d first heard a noise in the hall, she’d turned her eyes to the doorway where he’d paused, framed in the threshold, somehow broader than she remembered. Now his temper filled the room. She cleared her throat and pulled Vivienne’s attention in her direction, flaring her eyes and urging her to offer them privacy. Vivienne understood and slipped from the room, closing the doors gently behind, the unexpected latch of the lock being turned, discordant and ominous.

  ‘What has you in a temper?’ In an absurd juxtaposition, her question came out in a whispered hiss.

  He didn’t reply at first and stalked closer, his eyes alive with devilry. Again, like at the coaching inn, he reminded of a wolf under a moonlit sky, tensed and at the ready to pounce. Candlelight lent his too-long ebony hair a hint of gloss and his irises, sparks of silver fire, watched her every move as he advanced. The closer he came, the harder she found it to catch her breath, her pulse in a mad race, her body betraying her as heat travelled from her breasts in a flush across her skin, melting inward to her sex where she pulsed with new awareness and primal desire. If he was the wolf on the hunt, she realized belatedly, he’d made her his prey. She swallowed past a misplaced knot of fear, her hands curling into fists to solidify resolve. She’d done nothing wrong. Not to him, at least.

  ‘I asked you a question. Where were you today?’ He stopped his advance with only a few paces left in separation and his voice, calm, rich and as enticing as warm velvet, aimed to coax her answer. ‘Did you scurry off into London proper to meet Lord Tucker? Some other lover?’

  Georgina dug her fingernails into her palms, an act of survival to quell the automatic desire to laugh at his questions. Botheration, just when she’d assumed he sought an important argument of great proportion, he’d exposed his misplaced jealousy and tickled her better sense. A wave of relief washed through her. Unaccustomed to the display, for she had little experience with men altogether, she soaked in his expression, his clenched jaw and straight shoulders. Was he preparing himself for her immoral confession? How she’d enjoy teasing him if it wasn’t for the clear distress and vulnerability hidden behind the anger in his eyes. Instead she chose her words with care, her expression schooled into a mask o
f calm disinterest as his question hinted at jealousy more than curiosity.

  ‘Are you referring to my absence this morning?’ She offered a slight smile. ‘I’m no stranger to London just because I live in Coventry. I wished to reacquaint myself with the area and frequent places I haven’t visited in a long while. It felt wonderful to be out, unfettered.’ Somehow she found herself behind the chair where she’d conversed with Vivienne, as if in need of a barrier, but then, identifying it as a coward’s action, she stepped away at the same time he closed the space between them.

  A muscle ticked in the right side of his jaw and his eyes glowed like ash and embers combined. Perhaps he needed a moment to realign his thoughts. He’d thundered into the room like a raging lunatic and were she to allow herself to appreciate the humour, she would giggle outright. All in all, the scene was rather endearing, though she would never tell him that.

  His shoulders relaxed, a physical indication he accepted her answer and he manoeuvred closer where she stood beside the hearth. Firelight caught his intense gaze, flashes of silver glint and flames, warning he wasn’t through with her yet.

  She instinctively took a step backwards. She had little room for retreat, the windows behind her, furniture to the left, and a dark, dangerous man in front. All she had were words and they would have to suffice if he insisted on behaving poorly. ‘I have every right to go wherever I choose.’ That blow caused a slight flare of his eyes. ‘I am here to assist you and will keep my promise.’ Something different, unrecognizable, altered his expression then. ‘You need not think of me after tomorrow. We will confront Dursley and force him to return Nate and then I will go back to Coventry and that will be the end of it, my purpose served.’