Sharp Love (Gambling on Love)

by March, Ava

  He pushed open a door and paused just inside the tavern. He blinked a few times, allowing his eyes to adjust from the late morning sun to the relative darkness of the room. His eyelids felt heavy, a direct result of a near sleepless night searching for Will in vain. Yet that heaviness was nothing compared to the weight in his chest.

  After sweeping his gaze over the few patrons, he turned and walked back out the door.

  It was still early yet. Not even noon. Will had to have returned to his room by now. Fate could not have been so cruel as to snatch Will just when Jack was so frantic to speak to him. Fate had had a decade to see to that particular task, and it hadn’t. Therefore, there was no reason for Jack to assume the worst simply because he had yet to locate Will. The man was likely in his room sleeping. Where he should have been at half past five that morning when Jack had last knocked.

  A wave of tightness began to sweep up his chest. With effort, Jack tamped down the rising panic.

  No reason to assume the worst, he reminded himself yet again.

  He had no notion at what hour Will usually retired. For all he knew, it was normal for Will not to leave the tables until just before dawn broke across the sky...that was assuming Will had been gambling last night.

  He took a right at the next crossroad and continued on his way to Will’s room, slowing his stride as he passed shops to glance through windows. Ridiculous to think Will might be at a dressmaker’s shop, but Jack couldn’t allow a single window to pass without checking for him.

  Perhaps tonight he could ask the duke for another evening off from his duties. His Grace and Mr. Walsh would surely take supper at the town house. Once the horses were seen to and the team, harnesses and carriage checked for tomorrow’s journey, he shouldn’t be needed for anything else until the morning. The duke might think it odd for him to make another request, especially when last night’s had been his first such request. But Jack didn’t much care at the moment what the duke thought. What mattered was finding Will.

  Jack was tempted to pass the coffee house a few buildings down from Will’s room, to simply proceed on and knock on Will’s door, but habit had already taken hold and had him pushing open the door. He was about to turn around when he spotted Will at a table near the back, light brown head tipped down, attention on a newspaper before him and coffee cup in hand.

  To label the feeling that rushed over him relief would be an understatement.

  He crossed the room, the rich scents of coffee and freshly baked bread thick in the air, tugging on his empty stomach. When he was a pace from the table, Will looked up.

  A look of surprise crossed Will’s face before he quickly masked it.

  He grabbed the back of the chair opposite Will’s at the small table then paused. “May I join you?”

  A moment’s consideration, and Will nodded once.

  Jack sat in the chair and set his bag at his feet. At a loss for what to do with his hands, he folded them on the table. “Where were you last night?” he asked, doing his best not to sound at all accusatory. “I looked everywhere for you.”

  “Gambling,” Will said, with a distinct note of challenge.

  A challenge Jack did not take up. He was tempted to ask where Will had been gambling, but really, it was none of his concern. Will wasn’t accountable to him. Never had been. Based on their last conversation—if one could call it that—Will didn’t want to associate with him anymore, least of all call him friend.

  A serving girl stopped at their table. Jack requested a cup of coffee. He held back on requesting a late breakfast. Even though no more than two feet of scratched and worn wood separated him from Will, the distance felt like a mile, giving him the impression that though Will had allowed Jack to join him, Jack wasn’t truly welcome.

  He shifted in his chair. “Anything of interest in the newspaper this morning?”

  “Yes.”

  Jack waited for Will to elaborate.

  Will let out a breath. One of those long-suffering sighs, seeped in exasperation. “If you must know, I’m looking at the advertisements for properties. Found two that might fit.”

  “Where?”

  “Lincolnshire and Norfolk.”

  Jack couldn’t help but notice neither county was anywhere near Hampshire. Deliberate on Will’s part or coincidence? “Do you finally have enough to purchase?”

  “Yes. Won the rest last night.”

  “Must have been a good night at the tables.”

  Will tipped his head.

  “So you’ll be leaving London soon?”

  “Yes.”

  “As will I. They reconciled. I’m to drive them to Hampshire tomorrow morning. I’m on my way to Mayfair to get the traveling carriage so I can convey Mr. Walsh and his trunks to the town house. I’ve been trying to find you so I could let you know that I won’t be at the hotel any longer and...” He gathered his courage. The stiff set of Will’s shoulders and his blank expression screamed the man was not open to rekindling their friendship or anything else between them, but Jack couldn’t leave without apologizing to him.

  A cup of coffee was set before Jack. “Anything else you two want?”

  He looked to Will who gave a small shake of the head. “No, thank you.” Jack dropped a couple of coins on the girl’s tray.

  Once the girl had turned from the table, Jack leaned forward. Lowered his voice. “You were correct, and you have my apologies for what they are worth. I shouldn’t have judged you. I shouldn’t have kept making those comments. I had no right to do so, and even if I did have that right, it was poorly done of me to be so rude. If it’s any consolation, it was all borne from concern and worry. I care about you, Will.”

  “Do you think I enjoyed what I’ve had to do? That I relished in it? Am proud of it?” Will shook his head, all thick condescension. “Not at all. But it got me here. Able to look at advertisements in the Times and feel that just maybe one of them could become mine. That I might actually be able to purchase—not lease, since no one would lease to me—a farm, far away from this damned city. Even then, I’ll count myself very fortunate if someone agrees to sell a decent property to me. I have no connections, no family. I’ve lived among thieves, bastards and beggars all my life. Hell, I’m one of them. I’m not the sort of man one welcomes into a neighborhood, let alone wants in their neighborhood. I’m well aware of who I am, Jack. I didn’t need reminders from you.”

  Jack tried not to flinch, but he knew he deserved that jab from Will. “I’m sorry, Will. I should have helped you. I should have—”

  “I didn’t want your help then and I still don’t. So you needn’t let that particular guilt weigh on your fretful soul.” The hard veneer he presented to the world was firmly in place. Firmly keeping Jack out.

  “Please, Will,” Jack beseeched, voice just above a whisper. “I’m trying to apologize. I should have been there for you. I shouldn’t have kept leaving you behind. You’ve always been there for me, and I...” Wincing, he shook his head, ashamed of how selfish he had been. He’d labeled Will dishonorable and dishonest. Assumed he was too lazy to pursue honest employment. Yet Will, not Jack, had been the one to put a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. And when it mattered most, the man had always stood by him. Could be trusted to keep his word. Christ, Jack had trusted him with not only his body and his desires, but with his life on countless occasions. When looked at in that light, Will was the honorable one between them, not Jack. “I worry about you. It’s—”

  “Yes, I’m well aware. And as I’ve told you before, you needn’t bother.”

  Jack tried again, needing Will to at least understand if not accept his reasons. “It’s why I rarely saw you over the years. I always worried I’d find you in some gutter. That fate would catch up to you. You’re the only person who has ever cared about me, and it hurt to see you risking your neck with such little care for yourself. Regardless, I should have been there for you and I wasn’t. And I’m sorry. I won’t make that mistake again. Will you...” He s
wallowed down the apprehension, forced the words out. “Will you still write to me once you’ve purchased a property?”

  “As I’ve already told you, I’m through helping you do your job.” Will lowered his voice. “And I’m through being your convenient fuck.”

  At that, Jack did flinch, but not because Will had dared to whisper such a thing at a public place. But because the derision in his tone held a wealth of hurt. “That’s not why I want you to write to me. It’s not so I can find you if I need your help again, and it’s definitely not because I look on you as...convenient. But because I don’t want today to be the last day I speak to you.”

  “Nevertheless, I don’t think it would be wise.”

  “But you gave me your word.”

  Will shrugged, careless and nonchalant, as if his word meant nothing. “I’ve reconsidered.”

  Will’s unbending resolve smacked into him. He truly did not want anything to do with Jack. “Why?” Stupid question to ask. He well knew why Will didn’t want him in his life anymore. “Whatever I need to say for you to accept my apology, I’ll say it. Whatever I need to do, I’ll do it. I was wrong. I was a condescending arse. I took and gave little in return. I’m sorry.” He ducked his head, unable to bear the complete and utter lack of warmth in Will’s gaze. “I’m scared to lose you, Will,” he admitted to the scratched surface of the table, his voice low. “You mean a lot to me.”

  “How much?”

  “Pardon?”

  “I mean a lot to you. How much is a lot?”

  Was Will teasing him or was he serious? A quick glance confirmed not a trace of a tease in Will’s expression. Jack looked over his shoulder, to the other patrons scattered about the coffee house. Most were engaged in their own conversations, paying him and Will no regard. Still... “Here?”

  There was no denying the challenge in Will’s arched brow.

  He shifted in his chair. Feeling his hands begin to tremble on the table, he dropped them to his lap.

  Will wanted a specific response from him. He wasn’t simply being an arse, prodding Jack as a form of retribution. The man had asked him how much for a reason.

  Because he wants to know if you love him.

  The thought sprang to the forefront of his mind so quickly it shocked him.

  Was that it? Jack had never been in a relationship before. Had avoided them, in fact. As such, he had no notion how to go about one. But regardless of Jack’s initial intention to keep their friendship from turning into more, was that what he and Will had had over the last fortnight? Was that what Will believed? Was that the real reason why Will was so angry with him?

  Jack studied Will’s face. The tension in his mouth. The tension in every line of his body. Hard, sharp, full on the offensive. He and Will had had plenty of arguments in the past, but never one quite like the other night.

  The image of the duke, on his hands and knees in his study, methodically gathering the mess of papers from the floor that had been on his desk. The heavy furrow on the man’s brow. The way his hand had shook as he’d reached for the overturned inkwell. The hitch behind his breaths. Jack hadn’t been able to stand there, to witness him in such a personal moment, and not alert him to his presence. And he had known, even before the duke had made a valiant attempt to gather his composure and had given Jack the order to take Mr. Walsh to London, that matters between the two had ended.

  He had sympathized with the young duke at the time. But now? Now he knew exactly how the man had felt.

  Lost. Frantic. Desperate. Scared.

  Heartbroken.

  The very real possibility that today—this, now—could be the last time he would lay eyes on Will tore at his soul.

  Did that mean he loved Will?

  For as dense as Jack knew he could be at times, the answer to that particular question required no thought at all.

  Yes.

  He did love Will. Not just as the companion who had always been there for him, who had befriended him at St. Pancras when he’d been a frightened young boy. Not just as the best friend who had helped him to see his desires were nothing to be ashamed of. He truly loved Will, in that more sense he couldn’t fully put words around.

  Gaze fixed on the table, he clasped his hands tightly on his lap in an effort to keep the trembles from making their way up his arms.

  He loved Will, and Will was determined never to see him again.

  “I’m sorry, Will.” Damnation, that seemed to be all he could say. But maybe if he said it enough times, Will might actually consider accepting his apology.

  Chair legs scraped against floorboards.

  Jack jerked his attention from the table. Newspaper in hand, Will was getting to his feet, what could only be disappointment and hurt etched into his features.

  Hell. Will’s question.

  Jack lurched forward in his chair. “Wait. No. That’s not... I’m sorry I was a bastard to you. I wasn’t answering your question.”

  But Will had already turned from the table, was striding toward the door.

  Grabbing his bag, Jack rushed after him, leaving the cup of coffee untouched on the table.

  He looked up and down the walkway. Spotted Will’s light brown head weaving through the late-morning bustle of people going about their business. Paying no mind to politeness, Jack barreled through the crowd.

  “Wait.” He reached out to grab Will’s shoulder, needing him to hear him out.

  Stopping in his tracks, Will turned on his heel so quickly Jack almost collided into him.

  “I’ve had enough, Jack.”

  “But I haven’t answered your question yet.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Then why did you ask?”

  Will shook his head. Men and women moved around them, the street busy with carts and wagons and horses.

  “Why, Will?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he repeated.

  Had he misjudged Will? Assumed incorrectly? Maybe Will had just been taunting him.

  Oh hell.

  “I hate it when you make me feel daft,” Jack grumbled.

  Will let out a little noise under his breath. “I’m not trying to make you feel daft, Jack.”

  “Well, you are. I don’t... I can’t figure out—” Someone bumped into him from behind. With a murmured “Apologies,” a man stepped around him. Jack lowered his head to be on eye-level with Will and continued, voice low as possible while still being enough for Will to hear him, “—what you want from me.”

  Will’s gaze swept over his face. The anger was still there, but now there was also consideration in his blue eyes. Jack stood perfectly still, afraid one move would have Will turning away from him. His heart slammed high and hard against his ribs. The other people moving around them seemed to disappear. Vanish. Losing all significance. All that mattered was Will, and what Will would say next.

  * * *

  Don’t. Don’t. It would do absolutely no good. None at all. “Come along.” Will turned, and with a nudge of his head, beckoned Jack to follow him.

  Why was he tormenting himself like this? He should have packed his few possessions, purchased the Times on his way out of London, picked a direction and stopped at the first posting inn in the country to make a decision on which property to pursue first. But a part of him was self-aware enough to know he’d chosen to take breakfast then peruse the newspaper at that coffee house but a few buildings from his room in the hopes Jack would seek him out.

  He was finally so close to achieving his dream. So close he could almost feel the grass beneath his feet. Could almost see the wide swaths of harvested fields just waiting for spring to come again. Just waiting for him to put them to use. Yet instead of the joy he’d imagined this day would bring, he felt frustration, anger and pain. And disappointment. Not so much in Jack, but in himself for not only being an arse to Jack, but for daring to think for a moment that Jack might actually feel more than friendship for him.

  But he couldn’t leave Jack like this—confus
ed and baffled, feeling as though Will was trying to make him feel dim-witted. It wasn’t Jack’s fault he didn’t understand why Will was so angry with him. Not once had Will allowed their conversations to even brush against his true feelings for Jack.

  Now though? Well, he had nothing to lose...except his dignity. But it was the right way to end matters between them. He would explain it to Jack, and then Jack would understand why he did not want to see him anymore and why corresponding with Jack would not be a wise idea either.

  A clear break, with no outstanding questions for Jack to fret himself to pieces over, was for the best.

  As Will pulled open the front door of the boardinghouse, he reminded himself of that fact again. It was for the best. A handful of more minutes with Jack, and then they would go their separate ways. And Will could put Jack behind him once and for all, and move on with his life. Alone.

  Without Jack.

  Without the man he’d always love.

  It’s for the best.

  The sounds of Jack’s footsteps followed him up the narrow stairs. Heavy yet comforting. A sound he’d never hear again.

  Taking a deep breath, he stopped before his door. Pulled out his key. Put it into the lock. But the lock didn’t make a distinctive snick when he turned it.

  He tried the knob.

  The door swung open.

  His narrow bed had been turned on its side, shoved across the room. The mattress stripped bare and slashed down the center. The blanket and sheet a heap of fabric draping the back of the armchair. The meager contents of his chest of drawers strewn across the floor along with his shaving kit and his books and pamphlets on farming and agriculture. And two short floorboards under where his bed had once stood had been pried free.