It was the laugh that made a red veil of anger fall over Crispin’s eyes. The way Gemma flinched didn’t help, the way her father seemed to enjoy the flinch.
“You bast—” he began, lunging for him.
Gemma caught his arm, holding him back as she elevated her voice and talked over him. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your arrival, Father?”
He grinned once more at Crispin, a look that made Crispin want to knock each and every one of his teeth from his skull, before he said, “I’ve been thinking of the offer made by Hartholm and his duchess.”
Gemma released his arm and stepped forward, her hope too clear on her face. Crispin wished he could freeze her father in his spot and whisper to her not to reveal too much. It was obvious the bastard who had raised her would take advantage of her love for Mary, of Gemma’s desire to save her.
“Have you?” he said, keeping his own tone bland even as he reached for her hand and pulled her back a fraction. When she looked at him, he met her eyes and prayed she could see the message there. It seemed she did, for she also suddenly took on an affected air of disinterest.
“Yes,” Sir Oswald said. “It seems as though my beloved youngest would be in good hands if I agreed to allow them to sponsor her. And the offer of compensation for being deprived of her company that the duke made is more than adequate.”
Crispin froze. “Compensation?”
“The duke offered you money?” Gemma breathed.
Crispin turned his head. Rafe, damn him. Sweeping in on a white horse and doing what he had not. Perhaps could not, considering his conversation with Abbot the previous day. And he hated that Gemma’s expression of gratitude was now about his brother rather than him.
“He did,” her father said with a grin. “So you can have Mary for the two Seasons, though I will require the aforementioned access and invitations. But it will all be worked out. She and her things are in the carriage on the drive.”
Gemma let out a gasp as she staggered toward her father. “You’ve left her in the carriage in our drive for nearly an hour?”
Sir Oswald shrugged. “You made me wait, Gemma. You’ve only yourself to blame.”
She let out a cry of pain and rushed from the room to collect her sister. Crispin watched her go, anger burning within him not just for her father’s callousness, but for the fact that he himself had done so little to get Gemma what she wanted more than anything.
He spun on Sir Oswald. “You bastard. Your beloved daughter my ass, if you left her outside for so long.”
Sir Oswald’s smile remained unchanged in the face of Crispin’s wrath. He shrugged. “She will get me what I want one way or another, unlike her ungrateful sister, so Mary is most beloved to me. As long as your brother and sister-in-law keep up their end of the bargain and see her married well.”
Crispin moved on him. “When she is settled, I swear to you, old man, you are going to pay for what you put Gemma through. And her sister.”
Sir Oswald’s eyes flickered with fear for one satisfying moment, but then he shrugged. “Have a care, boy. If my daughter hasn’t already told you, I will say that my mood should not be tested.”
“I am not those young women,” Crispin said, pointing in the direction of the door where Gemma had departed a few moments ago. “Not only am I not afraid of you and your petty threats, I have far more power than you do thanks to my name, thanks to my brother’s name. So if you hurt them, either of them, even in the tiniest way, you must know that every bit of my person, every bit of my influence, every bit of the rest of my life will then be dedicated to destroying you. Body, soul and finances.”
Sir Oswald’s smirk faded. “You have her now. Don’t foul it up as you apparently have done everything else in your life.”
Without another word, he turned and left. And even though Crispin knew he shouldn’t care what Sir Oswald thought or said, his parting shot rang in his ears.
Chapter Seventeen
Without a word, Gemma and Mary’s father hustled past them through the doorway of the parlor and out to the carriage. As soon as the footmen removed the final piece of luggage from the top, the vehicle all but screeched away.
“Is he truly allowing this?” Mary asked.
Gemma nodded, but her attention was through the door just a few steps in front of them. She had heard a little of the last part of Crispin’s confrontation with her father. Including her husband’s defense her and her sister.
And her father’s nasty last words.
She slipped her arm through Mary’s. “It seems he is,” she said. “Now let us come and greet your savior.”
Mary arched a brow. “Oh, is the duke here?”
Gemma shot her sister a glare and guided her into the parlor. She was disappointed to find Crispin at the sideboard, pouring himself a drink. He turned as they entered and smiled, but she could see the expression didn’t meet his eyes.
“Miss Quinn,” he drawled. “I’m so very happy to have you here at last.”
Mary nodded. “I am very happy to be here.” She said nothing else, and Gemma nudged her. “What?” her sister asked in a theatrical whisper.
“Don’t you want to thank Crispin for his assistance with Father?” she asked, glaring at her sister.
Mary sighed and stepped forward. “I-I do want to thank you, Mr. Flynn.”
“Crispin,” he said as a soft interruption.
She hesitated. “Crispin. I do appreciate all you have done and all the influence your brother has exerted on my behalf. I will do my best to take advantage of the opportunity granted me.”
Gemma watched Crispin’s face carefully as her sister spoke. He had been smiling at her until she mentioned Rafe’s part in the bargain. Then his expression had hardened and now he took a sip of that blasted drink.
“Well, I was happy to help.” He glanced at Gemma. “I will leave you two alone to celebrate.”
She stepped forward, arm outstretched. “No, Crispin, we would welcome your presence. This is all because of you, after all.”
His lips thinned. “We both know that isn’t true. At any rate, I would not want to interrupt whatever giddy ladies talk there is to be had. No, you two have your time together. You don’t need my interference.”
Gemma frowned as he nodded to Mary and then slipped from the room. Everything in her wanted to pursue him, to comfort him in whatever pain or disappointment he felt in himself. To thank him more properly. Or improperly. That desire almost drove her to follow him, despite the fact that Mary had only just arrived.
The realization struck her in that moment. Normally her focus in this situation would only be on her sister. But right now it was not.
“I’m so glad he left,” Mary sighed as she flopped into the closest settee. “Now you and I can truly be ourselves.”
Gemma shoved her desire to pursue Crispin aside and went to the door to pull the bell and have some tea brought. As she waited, she frowned at her sister.
“Honestly, Mary, you should be more open to the man.”
“Why?” Mary asked. “He stole you from our house after making a desperate bargain with our father. He forced you to marry him. He doesn’t love you—he probably isn’t capable of such an emotion.”
A servant appeared and after making arrangements for their refreshments, Gemma quietly but firmly shut the door. She took a deep breath before she turned back to her sister.
“There are a great many wrong things about what you just said,” she said, trying to keep her tone from being sharp. “So many, in fact, that I scarcely know where to begin. First off, you already know that it wasn’t Crispin who came to our house like a villain with a plan. Father took advantage of both of us with his schemes.”
“The difference is that you were an innocent in that plot and Crispin gambled with every knowledge of who he was sitting down with. He says he was an innocent party, but how do we know the truth. He could have been in league with Father all along.”
>
Gemma gritted her teeth. Mary seemed so very young right now and so very set in her ideas. “I promise you, I am no fool. I believe that Crispin didn’t have any idea as to Father’s machinations.”
“And yet you’re still married,” her sister said softly.
Gemma folded her arms. “Which, if you must know, was my doing. Crispin wanted to get the thing annulled and was willing to go to court to argue a fraudulent marriage. But he asked me what I wanted, Mary.”
Mary’s eyes went wide and Gemma nodded.
“Yes, a man who asked my opinion on my own life, isn’t that a thought?”
“So you are saying staying wedded to this man was your idea?” Mary burst out in what seemed to be pure shock.
“Because the alternative is not very pleasant, my dear. Think about ruin. Think about destruction. Think about you never being able to wed well. If that had come to pass, Father would have simply sold you to the highest bidder.” Her sister went very pale. “When Crispin heard my plea for you and thought about the consequences of such a decision for his own family, we agreed together to stay married and make the best of this very bad situation.”
At that moment, there was a knock at the door behind them and it opened to reveal one of the maids and her tray of tea and food. She set it out for Gemma to serve and bobbed out a nod before she left the sisters alone again.
Gemma poured Mary a cup of tea and flavored it to her liking. When she looked up to hand the drink over, she found Mary staring at her clenched hands in her lap, her lip quivering.
“What is it?”
“You stayed married for me,” her sister whispered. “You gave up any chance you have at true happiness for me.”
Gemma set the teacup down and shifted to sit on the chaise next to Mary. She wrapped an arm around her and hugged her gently.
“You misunderstand. Yes, Crispin and I made a decision to remain in this union partly to reduce the scandal for those around us. But…” She hesitated for she was about to admit something out loud that she didn’t know if she was ready to say.
“But?”
“Crispin is not what you have made him out to be,” Gemma whispered. “He is far from a monster. He is also far from perfect, but so are all of us. He can be very kind, he can be very attentive, he can be…”
She trailed off, uncertain how to proceed. She and Crispin had been together for less than a week, but yet she felt she had known him for far longer.
“What can he be?” Mary asked, swiping at the tears that had sparkled in her eyes a moment before.
“He can be a good husband,” Gemma offered since she could say no more without revealing too much, even to herself. “And…and you may be right that he does not love me, you may be right that he will never love me. But that does mean that we could not have a good life together. I accept him and he accepts me. Sometimes that is the best one can hope for.”
But as she said the words, she realized how hollow they sounded. She had not often thought of another marriage after Theodore died. But when she had, she’d hoped she might get a chance to choose her mate for love.
She pushed the thoughts away.
“At any rate,” she continued, forcing Mary to meet her eyes. “I urge you to give him a chance. And since this is his house and he is kindly allowing you to stay here, I order you to at least give him the respect he deserves.”
“Because if I don’t, he might turn on us?” Mary asked, a twinge of fear in her voice, even as she reached for the forgotten cup that had been prepared for her.
Gemma shook her head. “No, he isn’t like Father. You do it because he deserves that respect, if nothing more.”
Mary took a sip of tea as she pondered Gemma’s words. When she set the cup down, she sighed. “I will do as you ask of me, Gemma. I will try to get to know the man, at least a little. For you.”
Gemma relaxed a little. “Good. It means a great deal to me.”
Mary sent her a side-glance. “Is that because Crispin means a great deal to you?”
Gemma caught her breath. Her cheeky sister had just shot an arrow at her without even knowing what she did. There was truth in the question. Even after such a short acquaintance, she did think of Crispin as an important person in her life. In fact, she thought of him all the time.
She shrugged, the motion entirely dismissive of the confusion in her chest. “He is my husband, Mary. I don’t think it is such a foolish thing to view him as a significant part of my new life.”
Her sister pondered that. “I suppose not.” Mary let out a long sigh. “Well, why don’t you tell me about this duke and duchess, then? Will they be very hard on me as chaperones? I don’t want to make a fool of myself with my country manners.”
Gemma leaned forward and began to reassure Mary of all the kindness she would find in Rafe and Serafina, but even as she did so, her errant mind kept coming back to Crispin and the realization that her sister was right. He was terribly important to her.
And that would not, could not end well.
Although it was only late afternoon, Crispin’s curtains were drawn and he sat in the dark, a drink in his hand, staring at the fading embers of his fire.
How long had he stood in the hallway, listening to Gemma and Mary whisper? Giggle?
“Too long,” he muttered to himself.
He took a sip of his drink, though he didn’t know how many this one made. He’d stopped counting at three. All he knew was that for the first time since he married Gemma there was a blessed sense of calm over him. A cloudiness to his mind that made it hard to think about things he didn’t want to consider. So many, many things.
The door to the office opened and in the light from the hallway, he recognized the perfect form of his wife as she stepped inside into his darkness. She hesitated in the light for a moment and then pulled the door shut behind herself.
He could no longer see her face, but he heard the disapproval in her voice as she said, “There you are. I have been looking for you.”
He had been slouching in his chair and forced himself to slide up, straighten up, as he watched her shadow stride across the room. She stopped at the fire, where she threw a log or two in and stoked the flames back to life, lighting up the room again.
The firelight hit her face and Crispin took a long breath. She looked like an angel. A flame-haired angel, one that had battled and lost but kept going.
She stared at the drink in his hand and she frowned slightly. He felt the strangest urge to set the drink aside, hide it. After all, he had been trying to improve himself since they wed. Trying to prove to her…and to himself…that he could be better. But maybe he couldn’t.
“Is your sister settled?” he asked.
She remained at the fireside, watching him. “Yes,” she said softly. “I put her in the guest wing room closest to our side of the house, but still far enough away that she will not, er…hear anything that would shock her.”
Crispin chuckled as he drank again. “Yes, we wouldn’t want to do that to the poor girl.”
Gemma didn’t laugh with him. “Are you sorry she’s here?”
He jolted at the question. His mind might be addled, but he didn’t recall being sorry that Miss Mary Quinn was here. Hadn’t he arranged the whole thing in order to gain some of his wife’s approval?
Or perhaps that was what his brother had done. He scowled.
“Crispin?” she pressed.
He blinked. He hadn’t answered her question. “No, of course not. I wanted Mary here as you did. I’m pleased to have her.”
She took a step toward him. “Then why didn’t you stay with us when she arrived or join us for our luncheon? And why are you sitting in the dark half-drunk?”
He arched a brow. “You don’t like my drinking.”
She folded her arms. He couldn’t help but notice how the action lifted her breasts ever so slightly. Breasts he suddenly wanted to see, to lick, to fondle until she stopped frown
ing at him.
“Your drinking tends to get you into trouble, Crispin,” she said softly.
He got to his feet, drink still dangling from his fingers, and took another step toward her. “Am I in trouble?”
Her lips pursed and she explored his face. There was true concern in her eyes, worry that he had seen too many times and on too many faces of those who loved him. Of course, she didn’t love him. And yet she was still concerned for him. Somehow.
“I don’t know, you don’t want to tell me,” she whispered. She shook her head and auburn curls danced against her pale cheeks. “In truth, I sometimes feel I don’t know you at all.”
Crispin tensed. “You know enough. If you get too deep—”
He cut himself off, and she stepped closer. “What will happen if I get too deep?”
“One of us will get lost. One of us will drown,” he whispered.
She held steady on his gaze for a long moment before she finally let out a small sigh. Then she closed the remaining gap of space between them and cupped his cheeks. She drew him down and surprised him by pressing her lips to his. She was very gentle with the caress, but insistent as she pressed her tongue to his lips. He parted them willingly and groaned as she pushed inside, tasting him. Tasting the evidence of his drinking, though she didn’t recoil from it.
What she did do was glide a hand down his arm and take his glass away. She parted from their kiss only long enough to set the glass aside on the table, then returned to him to wind her arms around his neck.
“Mary is upstairs, settling in and then having a nap. She has not slept well in the days since you and I wed and she was left alone with my father.”
Crispin smiled. “That is excellent, both for your sister’s health and so that we have enough time to do more of this.”
He cupped the back of her head, tilting her face up and claiming her lips in one smooth, gentle motion. She let out another sigh, but this one was not one of frustration or resignation or upset, but of surrender, and it was like music to his ears. He guided them toward the settee, never breaking the kiss and sat down. He drew her into his lap where she settled in, stroking his hair as they kissed.
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