Anne and Davenport had fought him on it but even from across the room the battle looked weak. The two of them looked ready to drop and after a little more nudging, they had left their babe in Jed’s arms.
She was certain the nursemaid would come to claim the baby shortly—and indeed, she had—but for a little while there she’d been forced to watch as her nefarious rake cooed and coddled an infant.
It had been…painful. Physically painful. Her lower belly had twisted and turned with some sort of age-old instinctual pull at the sight of this virile, handsome man playing the role of the doting uncle.
The worst part of all was that judging by the way he barely looked away from his niece and the fact that he was surrounded by no one but family…she suspected that perhaps it was not an act at all.
She stared at him through the dim light as that memory rushed through her leaving her weak and temporarily addled. For her plan necessitated he be a rake, not a reformed one but a current one. Her very future hung on the assumption that Jed Cleveland was a blackguard.
Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, she ordered herself to remain calm. After all, Jed was with his family and on a country estate. She supposed even the most lascivious rogue needed a break now and again.
He stood beside her and the silence grew thick. It nearly choked her into muteness. Or maybe that was the panic at work.
What are you doing? Stop this immediately.
She did her best to quash that voice. It was not unexpected. After all, proposing marriage was not a common occurrence for her. It was not every day that she offered to tie herself to someone for a lifetime.
While what she offered Jed was a gamble, it was she who was taking the greatest risk of her life. She was putting her fate into the hands of a known rogue.
Oh Lord, please let this be the right decision.
Jed leaned in closer as though to see her face in the candlelight. “Is there something I can help you with, Miss Beaucraft?”
She swallowed convulsively. The kindness in his tone helped to ease the thick knot that had left her throat too constricted for speech. She cleared it now and then licked her lips. “Yes,” she said. “You can help me. Or at least, I hope you can.”
He stepped even closer until they were almost touching. And then he did the unthinkable. He touched her. Wrapping an arm around her, he pulled her tightly to him.
She froze. What are you doing?
She couldn’t get the words out in her shocked state.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured over her head. She felt his low voice reverberate through his chest which she was pressed to in a manner so intimate, she’d never experienced anything like it.
He rubbed her back and arms, still holding the candle aloft. “You must be freezing.”
She blinked as reason returned. He thought she was cold. He was holding her because he thought she was shaking from the cold.
Oh, she was such a fool.
Pushing back from him, she once again gained the use of her tongue. “I am quite all right.”
He moved closer. “But you’re shaking, are you—”
“I am fine.” Her tone was too harsh, her voice too loud in the silence of this sleeping house.
He stopped moving toward her and once again they were caught in an awkward, tense silence. Her harshness had done that, and she was glad for it. This conversation would be difficult enough without him confusing the issue with touches and intimacy.
She fixed her gaze on the flickering light of the candle, rather than the dark glimmer in his eyes. “I have a proposition I wish to put forward.”
She heard his intake of air. She’d shocked him.
Of course she had.
She wasn’t done yet.
“A proposition?” he echoed.
“Yes. A—a—” She cleared her throat noisily. “A proposal, as it were.”
He was silent. She refused to look at his face or meet his gaze, instead focusing on that cleft in his chin, which was slightly covered with a five o’clock shadow. That little dimple was far safer than meeting his gaze.
The well-rehearsed words tumbled out, the offer to marry illicitly tripping off her tongue. She felt him stiffen and that only caused her to hurry on with her speech. Henrietta’s original lecture that she had to appeal to his gambling instincts was on her mind as she rushed to the next bit. “I cannot guarantee that my father will honor my dowry,” she said. “But I believe that he will in order to save face for the family.”
Finally, she forced herself to look at him, but she wished she hadn’t.
His gaze was confounding. Confused and shocked and…completely and utterly kind.
That kindness made her stumble over her words. She had not counted on that sort of reaction. The shock and confusion, yes. But not the kindness.
She felt even more rattled now than when she’d just begun.
His gaze held hers and refused to let go. “Why?”
That one simple word stumped her beyond imagination. Why? Why? He wanted to know why. She’d been prepared to offer up the exact amount of her dowry, or to explain the logistics involved in eloping. Really, she’d been quite prepared to answer any other question than why.
Stupid girl, she chided herself. Of course he’d be curious. He probably believed her to be ruined or something silly like that. Perhaps even this man with his flimsy moral fiber felt it would be beneath him to marry damaged goods.
Blasted men with their bloody pride.
He was waiting for an answer and in her perplexed state she was once again only capable of the truth. “Because my father is insisting that I marry and the option he has presented is untenable.”
There. She had been honest, albeit the words felt like a lie with their mildness. ‘Untenable’ was quite possibly the understatement of the year. She would rather throw herself into a fire rather than spend the rest of her days at the mercy of her father’s vile cohort.
“How so?” he asked softly, sounding genuinely curious. No, concerned.
Oh drat. She let out a huff of air, not bothering to hide her irritation. “I am not here for your pity, sir. Merely your cooperation.”
He arched his brows and even in the dim candlelight she could see his amusement plainly written across his rugged features. “And my hand in marriage, it would seem.”
She was grateful for the darkness and shadows. Surely they hid the blush she knew must be coloring her cheeks. Tilting her chin up, she met his gaze steadily. “Come, Mr. Cleveland. Neither you nor I are known for being traditional in our means and methods of courtship, now are we?”
The amusement faded as quickly as it came, replaced by a flicker of something that made her feel a stab of guilt for reminding him of that horrid day and that unthinkable wager.
Why should she feel guilty for reminding him of his sins?
There was no good reason, but that didn’t keep her from dropping her gaze to avoid seeing his reproach and bitter disgust. It wasn’t aimed at her—no, it seemed he was still racked with guilt just as she clung to her anger. But that did not make it any easier to witness.
His voice, low and gruff, broke through the silence. “I see.”
She shifted before him, trying to see what exactly he saw. What? What do you see? But that mattered not. He could believe what he liked about her motives in choosing him to be her husband.
Still, she found herself bristling when he continued, his tone far from accusatory. If anything, it was too understanding by far. “I suppose I do owe you for the way you’ve kept silent all these years.”
“You owe me nothing,” she snapped. “I kept my peace because to tell the world what a devious, manipulative cad you are would have only served to hurt Mary.”
He nodded. “I understand that. But I am still grateful.”
She blinked at him, now cursing the darkness which she’d been so grateful for moments ago. He wasn’t responding at all as she’d expected.
Maybe it was the drink. Yes, that had to
be it. Men acted oddly when they were inebriated, surely that would explain this mild-mannered response. Shouldn’t he be saying something sarcastic or biting?
She’d avoided him like the plague these past two years but she’d spent her first few seasons in his company—unwillingly, but still in his company. As they were of an age, approximately, they were often thrust together at social outings. And the man she remembered…well, he’d never been heartless. He’d always been civil to her, if inattentive. But then, all the young gentlemen had been inattentive. So much so that they often did not notice her about, often close enough to hear the words they used to dismiss her out of hand. Plain, boring, temperamental.
All true, but somehow that knowledge never made it easier to hear.
She couldn’t remember hearing Jed speak of her as such—but then to speak of her would have meant noticing her, and while she moved about the same ballrooms, they were never in the same orbit.
He’d always had that rakish swagger, exuding the legendary Cleveland charm in spades. And he knew it. He and Lord Nicholas—quite the pair, back in their salad days.
She’d expected to see that swagger now. Perhaps a smirk or a hint of condescension at the thought of marrying her, a woman so beneath him in looks and charm. She’d half expected, or rather hoped, to see a sort of outward show of excitement. Oh, she hadn’t thought that he would leap on board with this admittedly wild plan, but she’d thought to see a spark of that avaricious gleam she knew so well. Something to show that he was intrigued at the thought of winning her fortune.
This decided lack of swagger and rakish charm was disarming, and the absence of that greedy interest made anxiety stir inside her. That burgeoning panic only made her feel more irritable, and she clung to the anger that was always present at the mere sight of this man who’d very nearly ruined the only person she truly loved.
“So,” she said, folding her arms across her chest and feigning a confidence she did not feel. “Do we have a deal?”
He arched his brows again, but his gaze was inscrutable in the dim light. “Do I have a choice?”
She frowned. What did that mean? But then it struck her. What he was implying… She drew in a deep breath, inexplicably hurt at his suspicion. “This is not blackmail, Mr. Cleveland.”
“Then what exactly is it?” There was a hint of anger to his voice, and she could not say that she blamed him if he truly thought that she was using the threat of his secret shame to force him into marriage.
“It is a gamble.”
The words hung between them, only the sound of their breathing breaking the echoing silence. Hers sounded too loud and ragged, but the more she tried to calm herself, the more her heart raced. Everything was riding on this. She clenched and unclenched her hands which were tucked against her, forcing herself to focus on anything but that panic lest it swallow her whole. For a moment, she nearly dropped her guard. If the silence lasted any longer, she was afraid she might do the unthinkable.
She could very well beg.
Fortunately, her pride was saved when he spoke. “I’ll do it.”
“You will?” Her voice sounded oddly high-pitched and strangled.
But then, it was not every day one became engaged.
She stopped herself before she could ask why. Of course, she knew why. The money. It always came down to money with his kind.
But that was what she’d been counting on, was it not? And all that mattered was that he had said yes. The relief was nearly enough to knock her off her feet. “Thank you.” Her voice trembled with emotion, gratitude mixed with that heady feeling of a knot unwinding within her. A lifetime of fear started to ease.
His eyes met hers in the dark, and for a moment, her mind went blank. A strange sensation swept over her. The feeling that they were speaking without talking. That he was telling her something, or perhaps just seeing more than he ought.
She wanted to look away but she couldn’t seem to drag her gaze from his.
Once again, he was the one to break the silence. “I assume you have a plan for us.” And once again, there was that hint of amusement. As if marrying her were some diverting form of entertainment and not an act that would forever change the course of their lives.
“Yes, of course.” She let out a little sigh of relief. Details and logistics. These all fell in safe territory. There was no room for emotions and confusing gazes when one was discussing the most expedient route to Gretna Green and the little white lies that would be told to her sister and his siblings to ensure neither would be missed until it was too late.
She broke it down for him simply, her explanation erudite, leaving no room for questions. Sure enough, when she finished, he gave her a small smile. “It sounds as though you have everything planned.”
She nodded, feeling more confident and in control than she had for months. She’d done it. She had truly done it. She’d taken the first step toward her independence. It was in that moment that two things happened at once. Eliza realized one terribly important part of her speech that she had forgotten to include. Namely that this marriage would be in name only. Once they’d each gotten what they’d wanted—her freedom and his money—they would go their separate ways, living independently from one another as much as possible.
Also in that moment…he kissed her.
It happened so suddenly she didn’t have time to protest. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, still holding the candle with his other hand so she had one brief instant in which she saw him clearly. His dark eyes, his handsome features, that expression of passion that she never once thought to see on a man’s face. At least, not directed at her.
And then he kissed her, his lips firm and his mouth hot as it claimed hers.
She forgot how to breathe, how to think…she forgot where she was. Hell, she forgot who she was.
In that moment, life came down to the intimate feel of his mouth moving over hers, making her feel cherished and wanted. Making her feel powerful and vulnerable.
The scent of brandy mixed with soap was a heady concoction that only confused her senses further. Something inside her seemed to awaken. No, something inside her closed down. Or maybe opened up?
Something happened, and it shook her to her core. Her world shifted inalterably, irrevocably. There was no going back from this moment, and she knew that with a certainty that overwhelmed her.
Her body, it seemed, was no longer her own. Her hands fluttered up to touch his hard chest. They couldn’t not. She pressed herself to him, greedily absorbing his heat and his hardness, reveling in the feel of him.
Then his lips were gone, his tight grip around her waist loosening. She felt lonely and cold and bereft and…stupid.
Completely and utterly foolish.
She stumbled back a bit, nearly jarring the candle from his free hand with her jerky movement. “W-what are you doing?”
Her reaction was too late, though. The fact that she’d participated made her aghast tone seem forced, even to her.
His face was once more hidden in shadows but she heard the laughter in his voice. “As we are to be married, I assumed it would be acceptable to make the agreement official with a kiss.”
Was he laughing at her? Pain lanced through her chest at the thought of it. He’d done this to humiliate her. He’d caught her off guard and laughed at her overly zealous response.
Oh hell, why had she kissed him back?
“That was unnecessary,” she said stiffly, through lips that still tingled from his touch.
“The kiss?” Blasted man with his arrogant amusement. He knew very well how much it had rattled her, of that she was certain. A man as handsome and experienced as Jed Cleveland could not be ignorant of his charms.
“Yes,” she said, drawing herself up to her full height. “That kiss was uncalled for. Perhaps I should have spelled out our arrangement more precisely, Mr. Cleveland.”
“Our arrangement,” he repeated. She could practically see his smile even in the dark,
it was so clear in his tone. “I assume you’re referring to our marriage?”
“It will not be a typical marriage.” She cleared her throat, her mind grasping for the words she ought to have spoken before he agreed…and definitely before he’d kissed her. “We will be husband and wife in name only, Mr. Cleveland. This arrangement is to benefit us equally, but that is all. Once we acquire my dowry, we will part ways and live independently.”
His silence brought with it all the anxiety she’d thought she’d shed. Would this change things? Did he no longer wish to participate?
But of course he would, this was likely a relief for him to hear. He would not be burdened with her for life, just as she would be free of him. Everyone would win if her gamble paid off.
After a silence that seemed to last an eternity, he responded, “Very well then.”
That was it. No laughter, no trace of emotion to tell her what he was thinking, and his face irritatingly obscured from her vision.
She straightened once more, tugging her wrap closer around her. “Very well then,” she repeated.
She turned to go, because really there was nothing more to say. He’d agreed. They were in agreement. He knew the plan, and starting tomorrow she would put the next phase into effect.
Making her way back to her room, she climbed back into her bed.
She was ahead of schedule, which should be a delight. She should be cheering that he had agreed to go along with it, and that he’d agreed to keep this strictly business.
But much as she should have been cheering, in actuality she found herself staring quite dazedly up at the ceiling once more. She’d long since forgotten about food. Her mind was obsessively reliving that kiss and replaying every word he’d spoken and every glimpse she’d seen of his expression and those eyes.
She had done it. She had found herself a husband in name only. One who was motivated by her dowry alone…and one who’d kissed her senseless.
But no more.
There would be no more kisses now that they were clear on where they stood.
Which was good, she told herself. It was right.
So why on earth was she so thoroughly disappointed?
A Gentleman's Gamble (Devilish Lords Book 3) Page 6