by Darcy Burke
She leaned forward, and he was finally able to see a hint of cleavage. “I would not divulge it for the world,” she replied dramatically.
A knock at the door seemed fortuitously timed to the precise moment Con required the aforementioned wine. It would be easier to explain his situation with a bit of warmth in his veins.
He rose and returned with a tray bearing two glasses and a decanter. After sitting again on the mattress and tipping the spout over each of their glasses, he said, “I made a few bad investments.”
Her brow arched. “To the tune of—”
“Not ten thousand pounds. God, no.”
She sat back, taking with that his opportunity to look down her gown. “That’s quite the mistake.”
He couldn’t keep sarcasm from his voice. “Yes, thank you. Being moments away from being hauled off to the gaol did nothing to apprise me of that.”
She ignored his acerbity. “What were they?”
He shrugged and studied the imprint curling across the back of the cards without seeing it. Now that she had him thinking about it, he actually had made ten thousand pounds’ worth of bad investments. Dare was a god-awful investment. But a few thousand of those quid had been his own choices. Terrible ones, as it turned out. “A few different interests,” he hedged. “There’s a project in Devon that the Grand Canal Company can’t be bothered to complete; that’s the main one. Luddites destroyed a cotton mill in Lancashire several months ago. That cost me a pretty penny. My schools were never intended to be profitable, but other investments aren’t providing the returns I’d anticipated and children are confoundedly expensive creatures.” And his twin brother was just one more child to care for. A spoiled one. He looked up from the cards. “It adds up monstrously fast.”
Her lips were parted just enough that he could see the pink of her tongue, as if she wanted to say something but it hadn’t quite rolled off yet.
“What?” he asked, feeling very sure now that he shouldn’t have told her. Women pitied men who floundered.
“Schools? As in, more than one?”
Her odd little puckered brow wasn’t about his failings? He felt a bit better.
“I had no idea you were involved in anything so noble as the upkeep of schools,” she explained. “Whenever anyone speaks of your debts, it’s assumed you’re a gambler or a womanizer or both.”
He was careful to keep a smile pasted on his face. “No, just a poor capitalist.” He wouldn’t tell her twice how discomfited it made him to know he’d chosen his investments so poorly time and time again. Keeping his brother and himself out of the clink was starting to cripple him. At some point, shouldn’t he learn what constituted a worthwhile venture?
No, he needed a subject that might hold her interest without making him deuced uncomfortable. “I wonder where those rumors originated,” he mused, keeping his voice charmingly light. “Shouldn’t there be witnesses? Men who have sat at the tables with me and women who can tell stories about my prowess in bed?”
She laughed despite his crass language. “There are always women willing to lie for the honor of claiming to have seduced you,” she replied sagely, proving he needn’t mind his tongue with a woman as worldly as her.
“Do I have a lover, then?” he asked with a wolfish smile. “Is she beautiful?”
She glanced at the bed behind him. As though she couldn’t help but connect their conversation to their current, intimate situation.
His body hardened in response. She was supposedly his mistress. The idea wasn’t as far-fetched now as it had been when he’d blurted it out earlier.
His gaze caught hers. A pink flush stained her cheeks. Her gaze dipped and she reached for her wine. “Surely gentlemen do not invest in schools often, though. That can’t be a regular interest.”
“Nor a particularly profitable one.” He sounded a touch defensive, despite his growing desire. Hell, he felt defensive. The more he wanted her, the more he wanted to protect her opinion of him. “As I said, I never expected it to be. The headmistress is a family friend who can be frighteningly convincing at times. I should have asked for more specifics, but I heard the word ‘children’ and my pocketbook opened itself.” He shrugged. He wished he felt as indifferent about his failing as he sounded. “After I gave her institution a thousand pounds, I felt I should do the same for my own sex. She’s keeping her head above water, but the Academy for Inopportune Young Men threatened to close its doors last month.”
He felt like a fool for admitting his loss, but Elizabeth was looking at him as though a heavenly light had broken through the rafters to shine down on him. He sat up a little straighter as she asked, “I take it you were moved to contribute?”
It was nice to have her admire him for his good intentions, especially given what they’d cost him. He did sleep easier knowing fifty orphaned boys would have meals and beds for the next year, even if it meant he hadn’t been able to treat himself with the money left over from paying his and Darius’ debts. “I couldn’t bring up the entire donation asked of me, but I found a few quid and it was enough to save the school from immediate penury.”
Her lips twitched. “You found a few quid just jingling in your pocket?”
“Something like that.” He returned her smile, knowing as well as she must that if she hadn’t happened upon him, he never would have had the money to help.
She played a card. He hadn’t consciously realized they’d restarted the game. “I imagine the men extending you credit are unsavory sorts,” she said, looking up from beneath long, black lashes.
He turned up another ace and tossed his winning card onto the table. He flashed his teeth charmingly. “What can you possibly mean? Men who loan money to people who have little hope of paying it back—why, those must be the nicest men in all of Britain.”
She laughed. She had a husky, pleasant laugh that left little goose pebbles on his arms. “Why not marry a rich girl and be done with it? Why chance a thrashing, or prison, when you might simply sell your bloodlines to a wealthy merchant’s daughter and have done with it?”
He recoiled from her suggestion. “I’m not a ware.”
Her gaze remained steadily on him. “What about me? I’ve bought your services, haven’t I?”
“That’s different.” He wasn’t sure why. He’d never laid out his thoughts on the subject, but he didn’t need to do so just to know it felt wrong to him. “You paid me to do a job. The job is done. I’m not at your beck and call. Our arrangement left us free to go our own ways.”
Her eyebrow rose. “Like how you followed me?”
He ground his jaw. He couldn’t perfectly account for that. “I was worried.”
She blinked as though taken aback. Then her lips pressed together. “About Oliver?”
“A bit of that.” Actually, exactly that. But the way her eyes dimmed a bit made him add, “I thought I’d offended you.” Which was true. He’d initially returned to her house because he’d felt like a fool for disappointing her.
She looked so perplexed by this, he felt even sillier for admitting it just to win her favor. “Really? How?”
Of course she hadn’t been offended by his bungled proposal. She’d said as much at the time. There must be some ridiculous streak of romanticism in him that made him think he’d hurt her. Either that, or he was conceited.
He was possibly conceited. “I botched my proposal like a stupid oaf. I thought I’d hurt you.”
She looked stunned. “It wasn’t the finest masterpiece, I’ll grant you that.”
He wasn’t going to stay conceited very long if she kept this up.
After a moment of silence, she tapped the long edge of her cards on the table. “It wasn’t anything to do with you.”
“I know that now.” He’d been pretty quick to realize she hadn’t given him a second thought after he’d walked out of her door.
She half-laughed at this. “You must regret your rashness. But…” She raised her eyes to his. “You followed me all the way to Shrops
hire—the very middle of nowhere—because you thought you’d hurt my feelings?”
He wasn’t sure if she was testing him for a lie or if she really couldn’t believe he’d done something so stupid. The way she kept asking him if he liked women and if he leaned toward histrionics made him feel like she doubted his virility. “I thought it was strange of you to up and disappear. I feel a bit responsible for you now.”
She looked horrified. “You’re not.”
He smiled sheepishly. “I suppose not.”
He’d just said he wasn’t. She’d paid him for a job. The job was complete. Why, then, had he followed her?
She was quiet a moment. “Did you go to my parents’ house, too?”
He cringed. Now here was a topic that strayed safely away from his own misfortune. “Lamentably, yes. I knew your parents were in that county—my brothers have done little else of late but lecture me on you. I missed you by a few hours. I’m sorry about my mother, by the way. I had no idea. Certainly, I didn’t put her up to it.” Maybe he should have married by now. His mother deserved to have at least one of her children settled and carrying on the family name. He hadn’t realized she was desperate enough for a grandchild that she’d traverse half of England to appeal to two of the most horrendously snobbish people he’d ever met. He felt responsible for exposing her to their abuse.
“My father threatened me,” Elizabeth said suddenly, breaking into his thoughts. “Did he tell you that?”
Con shifted uneasily. He’d had a distant relationship with his own father, whose detestableness had culminated in the near-destruction of their family’s finances and returned in his youngest son’s ghastly affliction. Her father had done nothing to improve Con’s opinion of fathers. Lord Wyndham terrified him. “He gave me an earful. I’m not sure I remember all that he said.” Mostly because Con’s instinct had been to get out of there as quickly as possible before Lord Wyndham pointed a fowling piece at his head.
Elizabeth’s eyes blazed. She tossed her cards facedown onto the table and flattened her palms on either side. “Allow me to summarize for you, then. I have one month to give Oliver over to either you or Finn, or my father is going to help Finn take me through the courts, where I’ll be massacred.”
No, he hadn’t heard that. He set his own cards down. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to run.”
“That’s why you’re traveling toward Ellesmere,” he guessed aloud. Then he heard what he’d just said. She was going to Ireland? There must be a better solution than leaving the country entirely. There had to be, because her leaving with Oliver was the last thing he wanted.
“And now?” he asked, as if she might have reconsidered since a moment ago. Since he’d become involved.
She pursed her lips, looking at once lovely and disgusted by his question. “Do you think your catching me changes anything?”
Not in and of itself, no. He didn’t think he made a difference. And yet… “You can’t run.”
She looked him square in the face. He’d never seen a more beautiful, or more determined-looking, woman. “Can’t I?”
He managed to keep his voice even. What he wanted to do was seize her wrists and force her to accept his help. She was a spitfire. He didn’t think she ever paused a moment to consider anything but her own impulsive feelings.
That was the pot calling the kettle black, wasn’t it? He’d gone to her house to apologize for a proposal he’d blurted out in haste, and now they were sitting in a room a hundred miles away, simply because he’d felt intrigued by her sudden disappearance and had developed the urge to follow her.
Perhaps they were more alike than not. “I don’t think you want to leave,” he said slowly, feeling out his opinion of her. “Your home is here. That’s why you went to see your parents, isn’t it? There’s no other reason to come within a county of them, unless you truly wanted to see them.” He was glad he’d never encountered them before. They were really, truly awful. But he did know a bit about wanting to please family, even if his wasn’t nearly as difficult.
She drew away a fraction, enough to tell him he’d set her back up. “I’ll thank you not to make assumptions about me—”
He placed his hand over hers. She yanked her hand away. “You asked me a question,” he said. “Let me answer. If you settle in Dublin, your son will be raised believing I’m his father, because that’s the story we’ve told. He’ll think I don’t give a farthing about him. Whatever happened between you and Finn, it’s probably better if I don’t know. But don’t take Oliver away and make it all but impossible for me to be there for him. My father didn’t give a farthing about me and I don’t wish that on any child. I would do my best for him, if you’d let me.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t ask that of you. It’s not even reasonable. Who would do that?”
He knew without thinking. “I would.”
Her head tilted slightly as though she was trying to make sense of him. He couldn’t explain his answer, even to himself. “Why?” she asked quietly.
“Let me do what you’ve paid me to do.” And with that, he knew why he’d followed her. His job was not done yet. Ten thousand pounds was a lifetime of being her child’s father. Not a few hours.
For a few, buoyant seconds, she looked like she might agree. Then she tucked her hands into her lap, becoming very small. “You didn’t even know us before last week. Just…take the money. It’s yours. All I ask is that you never reveal the truth.”
There was no going back. His only path forward was in front of him. “It’s not that simple. I can’t have Oliver think I don’t care. I wouldn’t be able to face myself in the mirror.”
Because his mother was right. He couldn’t just walk away as though nothing had happened. He’d made a commitment. By God, he intended to honor it.
Now he knew why his brothers had been so adamant. He hadn’t been man enough to see it.
Elizabeth bit her lower lip. She looked away. “I won’t tell him it’s you, then. It’s not, anyway. You are not responsible. Please, leave us alone.”
He bit back a flippant argument that Oliver did need him. She needed him. The last hour proved it. “But I will know. Don’t you see? I will know I took him from his real father. How could I live with the guilt? A boy needs a father. If you won’t allow it to be Finn—”
“Finn!” she came out of her seat again. “Finn would take him! I can’t…I can’t be separated from my baby. I will die.” Her voice cracked. Tears glistened in her eyes. “Nicholas has no use for me.”
He well understood the despair born of feeling useless. He hated knowing she felt that way about herself. Not even the threat of one of those tears falling, however, could sway him from his position. He folded his hands on the table. “You can’t leave.”
“Ha.” Her eyes slid away. “Spoken like a man. The law is always in your favor, isn’t it?”
He didn’t have a defense for that. “The thing is,” he said matter-of-factly, so as not to provoke another passionate outburst, “I don’t want you to leave. We must be able to think of a way to keep you here, where you belong.”
She darted him a surprised look so full of hope, he knew without a doubt that he would do anything to make good on that promise.
Her gaze fell to the rickety table between them. “I can’t stay.” She did sound more even-tempered, as if she were considering his request rather than swinging wildly at her demons. “Even if I wanted to. Finn will easily prove you and I don’t have an agreement. There’s already no proof we knew each other a year ago.”
He set his hands flat on the table. “That’s only true from your perspective. Me? I’ve been aware of you ever since I became a man. I’m positive we have more of our past in common than you think.”
She gawked at him. “You watched me?”
Even he was surprised by his admission. He hadn’t meant to tell her that.
Going for the whole pound, he continued, “You’re one of the most beautiful,
sought-after women in England. I’d have had to be dead not to notice you. I’m sure we can remember an event we both attended. Some dazzling night that might have ended in bed. Can’t you imagine it?”
Her breath caught. He could almost believe she was considering what that magical night might have been like. Then she shook her head, and the spell broke. “He won’t believe I was with anyone else. He only did at first because you caught him by surprise.” Her lip curled up with satisfaction. It had been her idea to shock him.
Then her expression turned bitter. “He knows how much I lo—how devoted I was to him. He even tried to prove I’m still attracted to him.”
Con’s eyes narrowed. In jealousy? As ridiculous as that seemed, he couldn’t help but wonder what Finn had done to her. Where he had touched her. Or when. “Are you?”
Blast, but he even sounded jealous.
Her answering recoil gave him immense satisfaction. “No! I hate him for what he’s done to me.”
That did simplify the situation, even if he took his burgeoning jealousy out of the equation. If she’d had latent feeling for the father of her child, Con wouldn’t have wanted to interfere in their lovers’ spat.
But since her antipathy toward Finn was palpable, Con’s inquisitiveness when it came to her was equally pricked. That surprised him. He hadn’t expected to become so interested in learning her story.
Ah, but he wouldn’t pry. He must be patient. A virtue he’d mastered dealing with his twin. Her past should be something she decided to share with him, once he’d earned her trust.
Why did he need to earn her trust?
He raised his wine to his lips and finished off the glass. The fact was, he had a soft spot for a dark horse. He set his wineglass firmly on the table. “Be my mistress. That will resolve any concern Finn has that we didn’t actually spend the night together. We’ll do our best to appear smitten; the rest of the world will believe it and Finn will look dotty for saying otherwise.”