The emotional realization brought with it great impact and she settled on a wrought-iron bench amidst the gardens, barely in notice of the pyramidal orchids. Unlike the cerulean sky overhead, her mind clouded with memories. How many times had she argued with her father and confronted him with her upset, the same angered conversation cycling around without solution? Her father loved her. She knew that without doubt, yet he insisted she allow Lord Muller to pay call as her suitor and discouraged her interest in other gentlemen as if he’d already decided her future. Her stomach quaked, her father’s voice alive in her head, the argumentative exchange they’d had the night before she left as fresh as the morning air.
If there is some kind of family agreement, I wish to know, Father.
Why would you think that, dear?
You insist Lord Muller pursue my hand when I detest him.
Those are strong words, Daughter.
They need to be. I have strong feelings.
You must try, at the least.
I cannot command my heart to feel, Father, any more than I can stop breathing.
Perhaps as you spend more time with your cousin, you will recognize commonalities.
No, I won’t. I’ve repeatedly questioned your decision in this matter with little understanding. Mother defers to you with an expression of heartfelt regret and yet you repeat the same disturbing insistence. Why must I marry a man for whom I feel nothing? He’s not at all who I envisioned for a husband.
You must marry him, Georgina. It’s the way of things. Someone must marry Muller and I cannot, so you will. Disposition is negotiable. Surely you exaggerate. Your cousin is a respected, landed, affluent bachelor. Most ladies would be flattered to accept his attention. Once you adjust to the decision, you’ll abandon your reluctance. It is important you do so. I shan’t say more on the subject.
It doesn’t matter then. I will be miserable and angry. Not a wife any good man would choose.
Her father’s vehement decision had won out despite a series of persuasive pleas on her part. In the end, it only led to further frustration. Her mother remained silent on the subject, her expression concerned whenever the topic arose, but otherwise of little solution. And so, the enormous decision to flee London had left Georgina stripped of confidence and full of fear, but she’d managed. She’d created a quiet existence in Coventry with the purpose of sorting out her future.
Only, once there, she’d stalled, pushing off decision, day after day, while one fact remained indisputable. She could never abide her father’s decision. Most especially now, when she’d become aware of genuine attraction. Her heart thrummed whenever she recalled Luke’s smile, the drastic difference in physical reaction a strong tonic.
Paunchy Lord Muller was at least a decade older than Georgina. His features were acceptable and perhaps she might have tolerated his attention if it wasn’t for his lacklustre personality and arrogance. Descriptors, none of them favourable, flooded her mind. He treated her with restrained aggression and touched her without permission. When forced to endure his company unchaperoned, a walk in the gardens behind the house or a ride in his private gig, he pressed his advantage to the point she battled tears. Similar to her father’s attitude, he was hellbent on demanding their marriage. Yet she couldn’t fathom why.
Each of her complaints met with her father’s dismissal. Why would he subject her to such horrid treatment? Was Joy now experiencing the same? The unthinkable, that her father would interchange his efforts to see Georgina wed to Muller now she’d abandoned London, was enough to rob her breath. What could drive her father to such extremes? Through it all her mother offered comfort and confidence, yet did nothing to disabuse the notion Georgina would be matched to Muller in a few months’ time. She didn’t want to marry her first cousin. While socially acceptable, it seemed personally appalling, the proposition enough to churn her stomach.
Lord Muller was the son of her father’s brother, her uncle now deceased. Her uncle’s wealth exceeded the imaginings of Georgina’s family, and while she was unsure of the circumstances surrounding the will’s bequest and inheritance, she’d overheard her father speak of an agreement with Muller, fairly certain she understood her cousin possessed exorbitant sums. Dependency seemed a bitter word of late. It didn’t matter Muller possessed a deviant personality, the likes of which caused a skitter of gooseflesh whenever she considered it; marrying one’s cousin felt unnatural.
She knew what felt natural, what lived in her heart and grew stronger with each day. Time spent with Luke. His kisses melted the stays in her corset. One glance in his direction, the glint of mischief in his silvery gaze, his raven-black hair and dimple in his cheek, and her body reacted with intense emotion. Her heart pounded at the prospect of seeing him again.
Caution warned perhaps all men behaved as rudely as Muller, though she abandoned the rationalization as soon as it formed. Her father could never… and Luke. He kissed her with a gentleness that belied his strength and stole her breath away.
Indignity provoked, there remained a singular incident which tipped the scales. Vile images clashed with a fresh wave of anger at the disrespectful advance, the worst when she’d been pinned to the wall, a cruel mouth forced upon hers, strong hands pawing at her bodice. She’d objected, her palm raised to strike his face, but he’d caught her wrist and mocked her.
Clarity abandoned her. All memory confused. No matter his station, the lord had acted reprehensibly and, though his breath stank of spirits, she found it difficult to excuse his poor behaviour. Afterward, she’d accepted his actions as an isolated occurrence and dismissed the entire situation, lulled into a place of calm by the promise she would never allow such disrespect to happen in the future. Months passed without cause for concern and, fortunately, she’d never needed to call her courage into action.
Snapping a flower from the closest bush, she plucked off the petals and allowed them to fall to the ground with a soft-spoken apology. Too many obstacles lay in the path of her wishful thinking and, until she decided what she would do about her future, she couldn’t remain in the city she loved.
Forcing her attention upward she scanned the park for her sister. Staying past the hour would be another foolish decision in a long list. At a distance, people strolled the paths and visitors sketched the scenery or explored, but it all meant little if she could not locate Joy.
Then, as if a prayer answered, she spotted her sister with her maid in tow as the two walked the slates near the entrance to Birdcage Walk. Hope revived, Georgina hurried across the gravel before she could think, ignoring all risk of discovery.
Chapter Eighteen
Luke drummed his fingers against the desk, his nerves on edge in anticipation of confronting Dursley on the morrow. Nothing about the viscount had progressed easily from when Luke first met him a handful of years back. His half-brother and petulant wife were bitter, petty people who could not see the benefits of embracing family over the threat of staining their social position. Luke had little use for England’s empire beyond the money they squandered at the hell and Dursley never wanted anything to do with him until he’d measured Luke’s wealth. Then he all too quickly took interest and eventually stole his son. It was unthinkable and bloody unexplainable. As worthless as the chit who’d watched Nathaniel that day. Had she not later disappeared, all this might have been resolved by now. At least he’d spoken to her before she fled and identified Dursley as the guilty intruder.
But what purpose did Dursley serve? Why didn’t he build a life similar to most peers and father an heir and spare, squander money and keep mistresses?
He pushed his fingers through his hair in frustration and closed his eyes for a long moment. An image of Georgina as he’d last seen her formed without effort, beautifully disassembled by his handiwork. His breathing calmed. The memory of their shared meal in Coventry, her diabolical pug and their almost-kiss followed his first image. He knew the flavour of her lips now. He was anxious for another taste despite each one stole his bre
ath.
Why would a refined lady, one who read Greek poetry and wore elegant silk pantalets, hide herself away in the country? Trouble. It was the only answer. She suffered some type of distress. He knew his share of trouble, all kinds. He would do whatever he could to help Georgina, not in repayment of her assistance with Dursley, but because, no matter how he chose to lie to himself, he’d begun to care far more than he believed possible and the condition felt better than expected. A half-smile played on his lips.
Once Nathaniel came home, who could predict the future? Maybe he would try for happiness. Max and Cole found their way. Still, an unrelenting nudge, something as intuitive and elusive as his thief’s perception, reminded things were complicated. Georgina had secrets. Secrets she hadn’t shared and perhaps never would. Something that kept her from the one place he belonged.
Two knocks sounded and he swung his focus to the door as Max and Cole entered, their company a timely distraction. Cole dropped into a chair but Max paced a line before he stopped and poured himself a brandy. It was late afternoon and the hell prepared for the evening’s tide of guests, yet whatever caused his friend’s visible unrest grabbed Luke’s complete attention.
‘I’m thinking of getting out.’ The soft-spoken words were solidified by Max’s severe tone.
‘You’ve said this before,’ Cole was quick to answer. ‘And then you always change your mind.’
‘I don’t change my mind.’ Max nodded in the negative. ‘I ignore the problem or pretend it doesn’t exist, but now I’m more certain than ever. I want out of this life.’
‘I wasn’t expecting this.’ Luke placed his palms down on the desktop. ‘Granted I’ve been preoccupied.’
‘And that’s my point.’ Max finally took a seat. ‘When we formed this hell, we were independent men, full of unresolved anger and an abundance of energy, each pursuing our own goals, collectively working towards success within these walls. We took responsibility for very little.’ He released a long sigh. ‘That’s not who we are any more.’
‘Speak for yourself.’ Luke smirked, but Max ignored the comment.
‘No. I mean it. We’re better men now.’ Max took another sip of brandy. ‘My life has changed significantly and I’m ready to hold tight to my future. Getting out is something I must do.’
‘There’s no need to rush into anything. Take some time away from The Underworld,’ Cole suggested. ‘I left. Luke did the same when he travelled to Ipswich, chasing after Nate. Take a few weeks and rethink things. See how the decision impacts your life before you commit.’
‘A few weeks spent at home would be the proverbial nail in the coffin for both of you. Vivienne and the baby’s imminent arrival are all I think about.’ He waved a hand towards the curtained window, closed to the game floor below. ‘There are nights when we need to break up fisticuffs and in not such subtle terms remind the clientele who runs the establishment. The Underworld has provided us with everything we could ask of a gaming hell. We’ve gained respectability for what it’s worth, and continued vast wealth for as long as the dandies toss their chips on the tables. At what point does one say “enough”? I never thought I would be good enough or deserving of happiness. I was wrong.’
‘You paint a different portrait than my life. Trouble follows me.’ Luke raised his hand and splayed his fingers to show the purple and black bruise across his knuckles. ‘Guess I’ll run The Underworld for the remainder of my days.’ He enjoyed his recklessness. It had never bothered him or become a quality he wished for someone else and he refused to believe he’d in any way put Nate in danger’s path. Still, as he said the words, a small voice inside poked at him to remind only moments before he too had envisioned a different life.
‘It’s not an easy decision.’ Max’s voice trailed off but Luke could see it in his eyes. His friend had had enough.
‘Then what’s next?’ Cole pushed the conversation forward. ‘Will you stay on as a silent partner? Someone to trust will be difficult to find. And it won’t be any easier locating another man at the ready to sacrifice his schedule.’
‘Sacrifice?’ Luke stifled a laugh. ‘This hell has earned me money in spades, more than my miscreant viscount half-brother possesses. And who’s the bastard?’ The men chuckled before an amiable silence settled in the room and Luke continued. ‘If this is what you want, Max, we’ll work it out. We’ve all been through too much to ignore a chance at happiness.’
The room fell silent for several long moments.
‘So you’ll confront Dursley tomorrow?’ Cole probed, his attention fixed on Luke.
‘Have you spoken to Georgina to confirm your plans? She went out earlier but she should be home by now.’ Max leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, perhaps relieved he’d shared his intention to withdraw from the hell.
‘With Vivienne?’ Luke’s head snapped up with the question.
‘I don’t believe so.’ Max exhaled the words. ‘My beautiful wife does not wish to go anywhere in her condition.’
‘Then?’ Luke crooked a brow in question.
‘Why don’t you come by the house before we open tonight? It will give you a chance to solidify the timetable for tomorrow. Too much is at risk to have anything go wrong.’ Max stood and readied to leave.
‘Excellent suggestion.’ Luke clenched his teeth, liking the idea of seeing Georgina again, but at odds with the same recurring question. Where had she gone off to again? ‘Until later then.’
Georgina readied for dinner, her spirits high at having spoken to her sister. Once Joy had spotted her and they’d communicated through eye flares and sisterly signals, Joy had sent her maid to the carriage on a fool’s errand. Georgina and Joy had conversed in private, risking no more than a few minutes of conversation, though they made plans to meet the following afternoon. Georgina knew Luke depended upon her to help with Viscount Dursley during the morning hours, so speaking to her sister later in the day would be the ideal distraction needed. Luke would have his son returned, his life in order, and she would be headed to Coventry, though she knew now she could not stay. She would brave Lord Tucker and he would have to find another governess. She tried to plan and remain optimistic but so much depended on her conversation with Joy.
Straightening her shoulders, her spine determined and resolve intact, she glanced to the mirror. The buttercream muslin of her gown portrayed her as sweet as the tea tray rather than an independent, single-minded woman, but her goal remained true. She would reorder her life and return to London. Not because Luke lived here. Not because she wished to remain in his circle of friends, hoping for a chance to know him better, all of them, even little Nate. But because hiding in Coventry prevented her from the life she was meant to lead. If anything had become elucidated from her temporary detachment, it was that she couldn’t run from her troubles.
Descending the stairs, she headed towards the dining room, an unexpected prickle of apprehension whispering across her nape. She continued to fashion her hair in a bun and portray a governess instead of a highborn lady because she needed the charade as a layer of protection. Having committed a few blunders during conversations of late, she believed her new friends none the wiser. At least it didn’t seem so. No one mentioned an inconsistency or questioned her. Her heart twisted with the desire to once again become herself. Lies and the complications which accompanied them were an uncomfortable fit.
A rich chuckle met her ears and she recognized the tenor of Luke’s voice. Unaware he would be at dinner, a giddy flutter teased her stomach and she couldn’t contain a smile. She neared the room unable to squelch the unexpected rush of delight.
She paused within the doorframe, wanting to take him in undetected, full-knowing opportunities to enjoy the luxury were limited. Deep in conversation with Max and Vivienne, Luke smiled too, that devastatingly handsome dimple wasted when she could not truly enjoy it. On the table, an empty setting waited beside him and a second thrill rippled through her at the thought, he also waited. Did he anticipate their conver
sation, find pleasure in the knowledge she would sit beside him at dinner?
She must have made some kind of noise, or perhaps everyone in the room heard the rapid thrum of her heartbeat, because they stopped talking and shifted all attention in her direction.
‘I hope dinner hasn’t been delayed on my behalf.’ She entered and the men stood. The manner in which Luke’s eyes watched her with smoldering interest caused a hitch in her breathing. Heat travelled from her face to every extremity of her body, lower, much lower, where it settled like steam enclosed by the lid of a pot, simmering fast and hot, on the verge of bubbling over. Her body took up a cadence of yearning and her pulse applauded in kind.
Was it possible for two physical beings to communicate without conscious intention? Did Vivienne notice? She’d spoken about protecting Luke’s feelings just this morning, but truly Georgina knew this was not of her own doing. She could hardly control her body’s reaction nor the manner which he viewed her.
Luke waved away a footman who approached to pull a chair from the table and, as she sat, he leaned down to murmur velvet-soft near her ear, ‘You look lovely this evening.’
The air might have crackled from the intensity in his seductive whisper, low and husky against her skin. She reached up and rubbed her lobe, his voice a living thing inside her now.
Oh, he looked dashing. Devastatingly handsome. How would she ever find her way through the meal if she couldn’t drag her eyes from his face?
‘Do you have family here in London, Georgina?’ Max motioned for a servant to bring in the first course. ‘Are there any sights you’d enjoy visiting before you return to Coventry?’
‘I’ll never have my fill of the city, though Biscuit awaits my return. I do miss him.’ She bit her lower lip and caught the twinkle in Luke’s eye. ‘He’s a loyal companion, although a smidgeon protective.’ She managed the words with an equal share of amusement.
‘That’s one way to describe him, although another comes to mind as quickly,’ Luke groused. ‘The nasty beast took an immediate dislike to me.’
The Last Gamble Page 18