He was hot on her heels. She wasted no time in opening her trunk and stalking to her wardrobe and tossing garments inside. He grasped her arm and forced her to face him. His face was a dark, towering mask. “Don’t even think about leaving me. I’ll never let you go.”
Resentment and anguish blossomed in her chest. “Truly? Weren’t you the one who said you’d send me away to the country rather than sell your precious club?”
His jaw clenched like a lump of granite. “That was before.”
“Before what? I tire of your games, Ian. Leave. Go to your club.”
Without a word, he stormed from the room and left her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ian’s temper was volatile by the time he stepped foot in the club. Workers and patrons alike stepped out of his path. He was quick to ferret out Hatfield at the hazard table. The wealthy merchant was losing heavily.
Ian clamped a big hand on his shoulder and dragged him out of his seat.
“What the fu—”
“Careful, Hatfield. We have business to discuss outside,” Ian said, dragging the man past his guard and out the front door. Ian threw him against the brick wall. “What happened tonight?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ian wrapped a hand about his thick neck and squeezed. “Talk.”
Hatfield tried to claw at Ian’s fingers, but to no avail. “The bloody idiot was cheating,” he wheezed.
“Impossible. No one cheats in my club. My croupiers would have notified me or Brooks straightaway.”
“He was, I tell you.”
“How?” Ian loosened his grip on Hatfield’s neck a fraction of an inch so the fool could speak.
“He was…winning. That bloody drunkard never wins,” Hatfield gasped.
Ian wanted to throw back his head and laugh. The baron had finally been on a winning streak, and he’d been beaten for it. Of all the rotten luck. Ian released his grip, and Hatfield slid down the wall and clutched his neck.
“Get out of my sight,” Ian said.
Hatfield wasted no time and took off at a run down the street.
Ian returned inside. His gaze scanned the floor restlessly. For the first time, he didn’t get a sense of satisfaction at the busy floor, the crowded tables, the sights and sounds of money pouring into his coffers. He took the stairs two at a time until he was in his office and shut the door. He found himself by the window overlooking the floor.
Again, nothing. No pleasure looking at what he’d normally found a sense of satisfaction in watching. He closed his eyes and saw Grace.
Grace naked, her exquisite body shimmering beneath the glow of the chandeliers.
Christ. He had it bad, didn’t he?
Where was his resolve? The determination that had gotten him through all the difficult years?
She wanted him to choose her over the Raven Club.
He’d never put a woman above the Raven. Ever. It was his kingdom, his home, and his salvation.
Love was for poets and weak men. Fools and the frail, who were dependent upon others for their survival. He opened his eyes and studied the activity below. This was where he belonged.
If she couldn’t accept it, then she couldn’t accept him.
The liquor cabinet called him and he poured himself a whisky, carried the decanter to his desk, and sat in the chair. It was going to be a long night. The door opened and slammed against the wall. Brooks stepped inside the office.
“If it was anyone else, I’d be tempted to shoot,” Ian said.
“Anyone else would have knocked.” Brooks’s gaze went to the decanter on the desk. “You plan on drinking yourself into a stupor?”
Ian raised his glass in salute. “Precisely.”
“You don’t want to box me in the ring this time?”
“Why bother? I still carry the bruises from our last bout.”
“I can only assume you are having wifely troubles again.”
“She wants me to pick. The Raven or her.”
“I see. I thought you said she’d changed her mind after she accompanied you to the Raven. She didn’t leave the place screaming and yelling, did she?”
“No, she didn’t.” His mind burned with the memory of their lovemaking. She’d been sweet and wild, and he’d never forget the taste and feel of her. Men would die to possess that kind of pleasure.
He’d thought she’d come to terms with it. True, they’d never discussed it. He’d always sensed an awkwardness around the topic, and he’d kept himself distant from her in the day. He’d feared his strong attachment to her. He still did. Vulnerability was not something he had ever experienced before. It frustrated him, made him uncomfortable.
“It’s because of her father. Things were progressing until you carried the baron to our home battered and bruised,” Ian said tersely.
“Should I have left him in the alley to die?”
Ian downed his glass. “No. But she blames the club, blames me. We are back to the beginning.”
“What will you do?”
“I don’t know, dammit.”
“Have you told her what you do with the profits?”
“She discovered that on her own by going through my ledgers. She’s quite intelligent.” He recalled the night he’d found her in his study asleep in his chair, the ledgers spread all around her. It had led to another bout of passionate lovemaking. He screwed his eyes shut and still the image of her would not leave him.
Damn.
“She sounds perfect for you.”
“Not perfect enough. I won’t get rid of the Raven.”
“Then it’s going to be a long night. I’ll fetch more whisky.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Grace cried herself to sleep that night. Ian had never returned home, and she assumed he slept at the club. Had he been with another woman?
She recalled the masked women who frequented the club, many of whom she suspected would eagerly invite him to their bed. Would he accept?
She felt a nauseating sinking of despair. She could not allow her thoughts to turn in that direction. Still, though she may not be wise in the ways of men, it was imperative that she face the truth. He didn’t want her as much as he wanted the Raven Club. He wanted her gone.
She got up, summoned Rose, and dressed. Checking on her father, she was relieved to find him still asleep and breathing peacefully this time. She ate a quick breakfast in the breakfast room—alone—then called for her maid once again.
“Rose, please help me pack my trunks. We are going on a trip.”
“A trip? To where?”
“Home.”
“But isn’t this our home now?”
“No. I am taking my father home. I will care for him there. I wish to see Adam as well.”
The explanation pacified Rose, and she set to work packing Grace’s clothing.
It was a convenient plan. She needed the time away from Ian and his home to think. Her father would be more comfortable in his own residence, and she could see to his needs.
Having spent an afternoon packing, she allowed the two burly footmen, whom she’d first seen when arriving here, to carry her trunks down. She met them in the vestibule and instructed them to place the trunks aside just as there was a knock on the door.
Jenkins came forward to open it. Brooks stood in the doorway.
“My lady,” he said, his dark eyes noticing the trunks in the corner. “Are you going on a trip?”
She glanced behind him before inwardly shaking her head. If her husband was with Brooks, he would not have knocked.
“I feel the need to return home.”
“You are home.”
If one more person reminded her of that fact, she would scream out her frustration. “I’m taking my father home. Dr. Stedler said it would be safe for him to travel the short distance in a padded carriage.”
“I see.”
Did he? Had he spent the evening with Ian? His clothing was rumpled. and his dark hair looked as
if he’d repeatedly run his fingers through it, but then again, Brooks never seemed overly concerned with his appearance.
“If you are seeking Ian, he isn’t here,” she said.
Brooks stepped into the vestibule. “I know. I just left him. I came to see you, my lady. Might I have a quick word with you?”
She hesitated. Why would he want to talk with her? Had Ian sent him? Unlikely. Her husband was too proud to send his friend to convey a message. If Ian wanted to tell her something, he would come himself.
At her hesitation, Brooks added, “It won’t take much time, and I can help carry the baron to the carriage.”
“Thank you, but when we are ready to travel, the footmen will see to the task. Meanwhile, we can talk in the drawing room.”
He followed her inside, and she closed the drawing room doors. She took a seat in a chair and motioned for him to join her in another armchair. “Please sit and tell me what is so important you sought me out.”
Brooks settled his large frame in the dainty chair. “Do you know about Ian’s past with his father?” he asked.
“You mean about his arranged engagement to Lady Madeline?”
Brooks nodded. “The earl was a cruel man. Strict with all his children and his wife.”
“Ian told me all this, and I don’t see what—”
“Ian wasn’t his.”
Grace’s mouth opened. “What do you mean?” Even as the question left her lips, she understood.
“Ian’s mother, the former Lady Castleton and the current dowager, had an illicit affair. Ian was the only child who wasn’t of the earl’s bloodline.”
“Did the earl know?”
“He did. He acknowledged Ian as his own only because to not do so would reveal him to be a cuckold. He had hated Ian since birth and let him know it every day of his life. He’d often taunt him that he’d wanted to toss him to the orphanage where he’d belong. The betrothal to Madeline was a form of punishment, not only for Ian, but also for his mother.”
My God. Ian had been an innocent child. The circumstances of his birth were not his fault, but to threaten a boy and to punish him as a young man by forcing him to marry a mentally ill woman was beyond cruel.
“Do Ellie and Olivia know?”
“They are the earl’s children. As far as I know, they do not know.”
“I would never tell them.”
“Ian says you know about his donations to the orphanages and the asylums.”
“I thought he donated to the Orphaned Children’s Relief Society because his mother was a member of the charity. Now I know the true reason.” As a child, Ian must have lived in fear of being sent away to one of those establishments.
“Did you know about the servants as well?”
Her head snapped up. “What of them?”
“Perhaps he hasn’t told you everything. Ask his housekeeper, Mrs. Smithson. She used to be one of our best croupiers.”
Of course! She’d thought the servants odd when she’d first arrived here. “Had they all been in difficult circumstances?”
“Many of them. It goes back to Ian’s past.”
“Why? What makes him do these things?”
“His past is what has forged him and made him the man he is today. Ian ended up as a bare-knuckle boxer. It wasn’t easy for him. He fought for years and spent more nights in pain than he did in comfort. He sees everything as black or white, never gray. But I know him better than anyone. He feels deeply and cares for you more than you believe.”
“He has a strange way of showing it. He is cold and indifferent toward me in the day. Only at night,” she said, blushing, “does he express emotion.”
“He’s afraid, you must see that now. He was rejected by his father and told he was worthless from the day of his birth. His mother was powerless to stop it and could not even prevent the betrothal to Madeline. Ian is afraid to love, but he is a man capable of great loyalty. The employees of the Raven can attest to this. Do not abandon him yet.”
“And the Raven Club?”
“You see the club as bad, but I’ve always seen it differently. The place gives you power to aid others. Do not let your father’s addictions turn a blind eye to all that it can do.”
After Brooks departed, Grace instructed Jenkins to summon Mrs. Smithson, and then hurried to the library.
She sat in the leather chair behind Ian’s desk and flipped through the ledgers until she came to the entries that had puzzled her when she’d first studied them. Initials. She’d thought they were for other charities, but now that she was looking at them, she realized they were initials of names.
Names of people he’d hired at the club.
A low knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Mrs. Smithson swept inside. “You asked for me, my lady?”
“Were you employed at the Raven Club before coming here?” Grace asked without preamble.
“I was.”
“And all the other servants the earl hired?”
“All of the staff, but Jenkins.”
Of course, Grace recalled Ian saying the butler had come with the home. “Why?” Grace asked.
“We volunteered.”
“No. You misunderstand. Why would my husband hire from the club?”
“It’s what he does, my lady. He uses the Raven to rescue others. We were all in bad straits when Ian found us. My husband worked in the factory and when he died I found work in a local tavern, but it wasn’t enough to pay the rent. Lord Castleton found me and hired me to work the tables. I once overheard Brooks say that the Raven saved them both, and they decided to do the same for others.”
In some strange way, it made sense.
The club had offered refuge to many—employment, a way to make ends meet.
But how many had it destroyed?
Her own father? She had to acknowledge the likelihood that eventually he would have met the same fate. If not for Ian taking him under his watch at the Raven Club, perhaps things would have come to a head even sooner. Nothing she could have done would have stopped it. She knew it deep in her bones.
She had the power to do good. To continue to use the Raven as Ian had to better lives. Whether or not he could love her was a completely separate issue, she realized. She had given him an ultimatum. He may not love her, but she didn’t need to force him to sell the club.
As for his feelings for her? Now that she knew of his past—all of his past—was there more there? Could he love her?
If he could not, could she stay?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Brooks found Ian roaming the gaming floor in a foul mood. He noticed that employees and patrons alike gave Ian a wide berth as he walked by. His friend hadn’t shaved, and his day’s growth of whiskers only added to his menacing appearance.
Brooks approached him warily. “You need to sober up.”
“Why?” Ian’s voice was curt.
“I went to your home to check on your wife and Baron Newbury.”
“I take it Grace is pleased to be alone,” Ian scoffed.
“Your wife’s trunks are in the vestibule. She plans on leaving you.”
That got Ian’s attention. He shot Brooks a sharp glare. “Bloody hell.”
She was leaving him. He should have expected it. A bastard like him didn’t deserve her, did he?
“I told her everything. She has a right to know,” Brooks said.
Ian shrugged. “I don’t think it will matter. She made her position clear.”
“Her position may change. But what is most important is that she makes you happy.”
“She’s just a woman.”
Even as the words left his lips, he knew it was a lie. She wasn’t just any woman; she was his Grace.
His.
An ache centered in his chest. She was leaving him. Was he willing to give her up, go back to the way things had been before?
The answer was a resounding no. With pulse-pounding certainty, he realized the truth.
He loved her. Totally. Co
mpletely.
He loved her.
He’d buried his true feelings, distanced himself from her, because he’d been a coward—too frightened to admit the truth to himself. He’d thought putting space between them would protect him, but it had only served to make his need for her grow stronger each day.
His father’s rejection had taught him to never fully trust, to never need. Love was an emotion that could be cruelly wielded and used against you. He had associated any such reliance with weakness, and after surviving on his own for so long, he had sworn never to be weak again.
Grace showing up in his life had turned his beliefs upside down. She’d been brave and true, and he’d fallen helplessly in love with her. Initially, it may have been her beauty that drew him, but her intelligence and spirit had enthralled him. She’d nearly bowled him over with her understanding of business. With little more than a few hours studying his books, she’d made observations he’d missed or been too close to see. She was everything he’d ever need and everything he’d thought he was unworthy of.
And how had he treated her?
He’d deceived her to get her to marry him. His desperation not to lose her and to wed her, had little to do with salvaging his family’s reputation, but everything to do with the fact that he couldn’t bear to part from her.
She was right not to want him, to leave him. He’d lied about selling the Raven Club. He’d wanted her and his casino. What a selfish bastard he’d been.
She had every reason to hate the Raven Club, every reason to want no part of it. Her feelings were valid, and he’d never addressed them. Rather, he’d lied to her.
She was his hope, his salvation, the love of his life.
Nothing else mattered.
And now it may be too late to tell her. He turned to Brooks and eyed him with a deep-seated desperation. “Do you want it?”
“What?”
“The Raven. Do you want the club?” He felt suddenly anxious as if his skin were too tight to contain all his rioting emotions.
How to Tempt an Earl_Raven Club Page 20