She drew back at the simple, yet heartfelt apology that came from his lips. She examined him closely.
“Are you, Mr. Flynn?”
Crispin got back to his feet and paced away from her. At this moment, she despised him and there was no getting around that. His words to her meant nothing, perhaps because in her account there had been so few of them so far.
Great God, how was this possible?
“Mr. Flynn?” she asked, and he realized he had been silent for far too long.
“I need to think,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his face. His head still throbbed, but he did his best to ignore it. “This cannot be legal.”
Behind him, she let out a rather unladylike snort and he found she had taken a seat beside his fire. She was watching him still, that strange focus burning into him when he turned to look at her.
“I’m certain it is not legal,” she admitted, her voice as icy as a winter wind. “But does it truly matter?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, his chest beginning to tighten.
She shrugged. “I know my father. By now he has already begun spreading the word far and wide that we wed last night. I’m certain he used words like whirlwind courtship and waxed poetic about you sweeping me away with his happy blessing. No one will believe it, but the rumors will spread, nonetheless.”
Bile rose in Crispin’s throat, choking him once more. He swallowed hard. “Why? Why would he do this? Why would he create this grand plan to entrap me in a wager? He asked for nothing that I recall. So why would he give you away?”
She flinched at his question, and he wished he could snatch the words back. Damn, but he was a clod sometimes. Why could he not think before he spoke? Or acted? Or drank?
“I’m sorry, my lady,” he began.
She held up a hand. “No need for apologies, Mr. Flynn. I know where I stand with my father. I have for years. I am an albatross to him, you see.”
Crispin stared at her again, letting his gaze flit over her fine form before he settled on her lovely face. “Why?”
Her lips thinned. “I’m certain if you ask around, you will get some version of the truth.”
“I would like to hear your version,” he said, folding his arms.
She shook her head. “I would rather not discuss it, Mr. Flynn.”
Crispin’s first instinct was to push, but considering that this woman had already been pushed so far, perhaps that wasn’t the best course of action in the end. Not if he wanted to work this situation out in some amicable way.
“Very well. Then do you know why your father chose me for his trap?”
She tilted her head. “Is that not obvious? Oh, that’s right, you don’t remember much about last night. Well, come back to my father’s home when you are sober and you’ll see how shabby it is.” She blushed. “How shabby we are. You have money, everyone knows it.”
Crispin bit out a sharp burst of laughter at that statement. Money? He’d had it, yes, but lately more of it had bled away than stayed in his coffers. He wasn’t destitute, by any means, but he wasn’t rich anymore.
Her eyes went wide. “Don’t you?”
The panic was clear in her wavering voice and her wide eyes, and for the first time Crispin wondered if she had been more a part of this ruse than she let on. Had she wanted to land a rich troublemaker as much as her father did?
“Worried, my lady?”
Her spine stiffened at the obvious implications of that question. “I have been left penniless before, Mr. Flynn,” she ground out. “I know what it is like. I’m also damn well aware of the consequences being poor can bring. Like this situation, for example. So excuse me if the idea of going from one empty household to another brings me no joy.”
She turned away from him and paced angrily to the window behind his bed. She gripped the curtain edge and peeked outside toward his garden. For a fleeting moment, he wondered what she thought of the tangled mess there.
He shoved those thoughts aside. “My lady, you have no idea of my intentions, my character or my thoughts. Truly, I have no idea of the same when it comes to you. This is a marriage apparently thrust upon us both. But it is not something either of us wanted.”
He paused for a moment. This brought him so much to mind of his brother, Rafe, and the marriage he had also been forced to enter. Only Rafe was happy now with his wife. Blissfully happy indeed.
But this was different. This wasn’t a marriage contract that couldn’t be broken and had to be accepted. This was a likely illegal ceremony performed when he was so drunk he couldn’t see straight.
“We can break this,” he said. “I’m certain of it.”
She laughed bitterly, but didn’t turn from the window. “Do what you will, Mr. Flynn. My reputation is already in tatters.”
He hesitated at that statement. It was the second time she had made reference to her reputation, and he vaguely remembered her father doing the same in the haze of the previous night.
What exactly had she done that would make such a lovely creature a…how had she put it? An albatross?
There was a light knock at the door, and Gemma spun from the window with a furious blush. Crispin straightened up. “Enter.”
The door opened to reveal his butler, Fletcher. The older man shifted uncomfortably as he nodded in acknowledgment to Gemma.
“I’m sorry to disturb, Mr. and Mrs. Flynn,” he said. Gemma turned away, her hand gripped at her side. “But Mrs. Flynn’s servant has arrived with her things. Where shall I send her?”
“Kate?” Gemma burst out, taking a step toward Fletcher. “Kate is here?”
Crispin was rendered speechless for a moment. For the first time, the woman who was now—if only temporarily—his wife smiled, and it changed her beautiful face entirely. She was lit up by the expression, her pale cheeks pinkening and her gray eyes brighter. If he had thought her beautiful before, that impression was now magnified tenfold.
“Yes,” Fletcher said, and even the stern servant seemed to be enthralled by Gemma’s light. He was…smiling. Crispin had never seen the old goat smile before. “She is just as anxious to see you, madam. Shall I send her to this chamber?”
Crispin looked down at himself. His clothing was wrinkled and smelled faintly of spirits. He felt sticky and unpleasant all around, and looking at Gemma with her tangled hair and equally wrinkled gown, he couldn’t imagine she didn’t feel the same.
“Send the girl here,” he answered.
Fletcher nodded. “And I will have the staff begin to lay out breakfast. Will an hour suffice for timing?”
“That should be fine.”
The servant tossed Gemma another brief nod and then left the room. The moment he was gone, she rushed toward Crispin.
“I’ve no intention of staying in your chamber, Mr. Flynn—” she began, her words running together as proof of how upset she obviously was.
Crispin raised a hand to stop her. “I will surrender my chamber to you, my lady, as it is the finest in the home. But I do not intend to force my presence upon you, I assure you. I will take another room until we can resolve this…” He sighed. “This utter mess I have created.”
She stared at him, silent. Judging, he was fairly certain, though her expression was unreadable.
“Neither of us is at our best at present. It is a confusing and upsetting position for us both,” he continued. “I will have a servant draw a bath for you here in the adjoining dressing room while you and your maid reunite. I will do the same in another room. Let us dress and meet for breakfast in the aforementioned hour my butler provided. I’m certain we will both be in a better mind frame then. Is that agreeable?”
Gemma opened and shut her mouth a few times, but finally she nodded. “As agreeable as any of this can be, yes.”
“Good.”
He moved toward the door and then hesitated. He turned back and found she was still staring at him, watching his every move just as she had been almost
the entire time they had been together this morning. Her look of mistrust was quite the same as it had ever been.
“You asked me before if I was truly sorry,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “And I want you to know I am. This is an untenable situation, but know that I will do everything in my power to rectify it. You may not put much stake in my promises at present, but I think you will come to see that I keep them.”
Her lips parted and her tongue darted out to wet them, making his mind reach for very inappropriate images of her tongue licking other things. He pushed them away with violence.
“Thank you, Mr. Flynn. I hope you prove that to be true.”
He nodded and slipped from the room, shutting the door behind himself. He leaned against the barrier for a moment, the events of the morning sinking in.
“What did you do?” he moaned softly. “What the hell did you do?”
Gemma took a long breath. When Crispin Flynn was in the room, awake or not, he seemed to take all the space, all the air, all the attention away from everything else. She wasn’t certain if that was because she didn’t trust him or if it was because he was so very, very handsome. Even more so when sober than when he had been drunk and silent the night before.
There was a light knock on the door, and she pushed those thoughts aside as Kate stepped inside. Her maid rushed on Gemma, dark hair flying back from her face as she wrapped her arms around her and hugged her hard and long.
“Oh miss,” she cooed against Gemma’s hair. “I was so afraid for you.”
Gemma drew back, smiling to reassure her longtime servant that she was well even if it didn’t feel entirely true at present. “I’m sorry.”
“You shouldn’t apologize, it isn’t you who did this,” Kate fumed as she paced away. The door behind them opened again to reveal two of Crispin’s servants with her bags. They set them at the door as Kate ordered and left them.
Gemma stared at the four medium-sized portmanteaus and sighed. “What a tiny little life I have left that it can be fit into four bags carried by two servants. Some women would take more than this to a weekend in the country.”
“Some women are frivolous and empty,” Kate said as she looked Gemma up and down. “Now would you like to tell me what that…that man did to you?”
Gemma smiled at the maid’s motherhenning and relaxed for what felt like the first time in a very long time. Relaxed, that was, until she caught a glimpse of Crispin’s cravat draped over a chair, caught a whiff of his scent as she picked up a pillow from the bed and held it to her chest.
“He didn’t do anything,” she reassured Kate softly. “Although he seemed to be just as afraid that he had done exactly what you imply.”
“Rape you?” her maid said mildly.
Gemma flinched. “Yes, to put it bluntly. Or at least something close to it. But he didn’t. We all went to a vicar’s house, Mr. Howe—do you remember him from his visits to my father’s home?”
Kate’s lips pursed. “I do indeed. He pinched the bottoms of all the maids. Not a very godly man, for a vicar.”
“Apparently not, since he was willing to take what I think amounted to a fairly substantial bribe to marry us. Once it was done, we were returned here by my father. And then he left and we were alone.”
Kate leaned in. “And?” There was a knock on the door from the adjoining chamber and both women jumped. Kate scowled as she opened it, “Yes?”
A footman stood in the entryway. “Mrs. Flynn’s bath.”
For a moment, Gemma swayed at the idea of a bath to wash away the grime and pain of the previous night. As if cleansing her body would cleanse her soul of her father’s betrayal, of her own impossible situation.
“Thank you,” Kate said with a nod to dismiss the servant. Once he had departed through another door, her maid turned to her. With swift efficiency, the other woman stripped the buttons along the back of her gown open. “I’ll lock all the doors while you undress.”
Gemma did so and walked into the adjoining dressing room. The water steamed and something fragrant had been added to it. Oranges and vanilla swirled into her nostrils. Kate took her hand, steadying her as she stepped into the water with a hiccup of breath.
“A hot bath helps everything,” her maid said with a smile as she handed over the soap.
“Not this,” Gemma murmured, though in truth the warm water did ease her tight muscles and slow her tangled thoughts for a brief moment.
“You came back here and your father left you,” Kate said. “What happened then?”
“He insisted on escorting us to this chamber. Servants were making a fuss, it was chaotic. He shut the door behind us and we stood there, staring at each other. Mr. Flynn was swaying on his feet. He moved toward me.”
She squeezed her eyes shut as she pictured that moment. Gripped by both fear and anticipation, her heart had stuttered. She hadn’t known if he would attack her or kiss her.
“He put his face very close to mine,” she whispered. “And he said, ‘You’re too beautiful. This will not do.’”
Kate drew back. “What?”
Gemma shrugged. “It’s what he said to me. And he hesitated a second more. Then he went to the settee and promptly passed out. I had little choice but to get into the bed—fully dressed, of course—and stare at the ceiling all night, listening to him mutter in his sleep.”
Kate motioned her to lean forward and began to wash her back. The swirling motion made Gemma shiver with pleasure and released tension.
“What did he mutter about?” Kate asked.
“I don’t know. It was gibberish.” Gemma pursed her lips. That wasn’t exactly true. She had been able to make out some words in Crispin’s broken speech. Words like sorry and betrayed you.
It seemed they both had their secrets.
Of course, hers could be rooted out very easily, as she had no doubt they would be soon. What would Crispin’s reaction be?
“Let me brush your hair, my lady.”
Gemma flinched. “My lady. He has been calling me that, but if this marriage sticks, you realize it will not be my title any longer. I will be Mrs. Crispin Flynn.”
“If it sticks. I have a feeling Mr. Flynn is not the kind of man to get forced into anything.”
Gemma rested back against the tub as Kate brushed her tangle locks gently. “I don’t know what kind of man he is,” she admitted. “When he was deep in his cups, he was silent, even sullen. His character was utterly unreadable. But he didn’t take advantage of his claim for husbandly rights, when he could have very well done so. And this morning he is…”
When she trailed off, Kate filled in the space. “Is?”
“He is different, that’s all. There’s a light to him I didn’t see last night. He said he was sorry. Perhaps he meant it.”
Kate barked out a laugh. “Sorry doesn’t help much now, does it?”
Gemma didn’t respond to the question. In a way, the apology did help. No, it didn’t fix what had already happened, or mitigate the scandal that would follow when the circumstances of their “marriage” came out and Crispin’s drive to end it became public.
But the apology was certainly better than anything she’d ever get from her father, orchestrator of this madness.
She sighed. “What happened when my father returned? Is Mary all right?”
Kate’s movements fumbled, giving Gemma the answer she needed even before she spoke. “Your father came back full of swagger, of course. And your sister was waiting for him. They had it out.”
Any relaxation Gemma had found in the bath bled away at that statement. She moaned. “Oh, Mary. I asked her not to do it. Father will punish her, especially if I’m not there.”
“He railed at her quite cruelly,” Kate confirmed. “And offered that she could be sold to someone far worse for a better price if she would like to continue to defy him.”
Gemma sucked in her breath. There was her very deepest fear. She had hoped her fir
st marriage would shield Mary, but that hadn’t gone to plan at all. Her return home in disgrace and poverty had only heightened her father’s drive to marry his younger daughter well.
But she knew from experience that the man wasn’t below exactly what he threatened if Mary would not “do her duty” and find a husband of his liking.
“I will write to her as soon as I can today,” Gemma whispered. “So she won’t be afraid for me. And perhaps I will be able to see her.”
That hadn’t always been the case in her first marriage, but if Crispin was busy trying to dissolve their union, perhaps he wouldn’t care if she had a visitor. Perhaps he would forget about her entirely.
“Until then, what is your plan?” Kate asked, offering her a towel. Gemma rose from the water, wrapping it around herself before she stepped out of the steaming heaven of the bath and back into reality.
She shrugged. “My plan is to have breakfast with the man as he has requested and see where it goes.”
Kate pursed her lips. “The best solution, of course. I only wish everything weren’t so out of your control.”
Gemma laughed, though the sound was bitter and hollow. “It is the way of the world, Kate. The way of my world at any rate. We can only hope this man will prove to be a better protector of my needs than the last two.”
Chapter Five
Crispin winced as he drank the rank brew in the tumbler he held. Fletcher and the cook had long ago concocted this…poison to aid him in getting over a night of over-imbibing. He had no idea what was in it, but it tasted like death. And yet it worked. By his second glass, his head was starting to feel a little better.
Which only meant he was more capable of thinking about the situation he was now in. Married. And to a woman who looked at him like she feared he might either jump on her or murder her at any moment. A woman he knew nothing about besides her name, the fact that she had a dreadful father and that she was absolutely beautiful.
The Widow Wager Page 3