Seducing The Vengeful Marquess (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Lucinda Nelson

  “A challenge.”

  Tristan nodded uneasily. He reached out and tried to touch her hand, but she pulled it back. She didn’t want to be touched right now. “How much money did he have on it?”

  “I don’t know,” Tristan admitted, but she could see that he was withholding information.

  “Tristan,” she pushed, in a tight voice.

  “A large sum…” he confessed.

  Again, she nodded.

  “Loraine-”

  “Would you leave me to my thoughts?” She interjected, in a flat voice.

  “Are you sure you want to be alone?” He asked, with a furrowed row.

  “Quite sure,” she said. “I just need some privacy. So this can sink in.”

  Tristan nodded and stood. “Alright,” he conceded. “But if you need anything, you must send word.”

  “Thank you for bringing me this information,” she said, as though it was a matter of business. As though her heart hadn’t just been shattered open.

  Tristan didn’t say anything more on the matter. He inclined his head and bid her a good day. And then he left.

  For a long time, Loraine sat still and silent, staring at the wall.

  A bet.

  It was an abysmal thing to do. So much so that it was almost unimaginable. And in truth, she didn’t want to believe it. She told herself that Theodore had been lying, or exaggerating. Or that, if Philip had made such a bet, he’d done away with it when he’d found himself falling in love with her.

  Yes, and that would explain why Theodore was angry with him. While that explanation suited her more than any other explanation could, it didn’t excuse him.

  He’d cheapened her. Something that would have driven away in an instant not so long ago. But after what they’d shared together in the cavern, she couldn’t be so quick to abandon what was between them.

  Loraine stood and started pacing. She contemplated riding to his estate to see him. She’d demand an explanation and hope that he could provide her with one. Yes, that’s what she would do.

  Chapter 29

  Miss Loraine Beauchamp

  She headed towards the door of the library, but before she made it, Mrs. Barrow stepped into the room. “Is Lord Garth alright, little miss? He looked rather upset.”

  “He’s fine,” Loraine said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. She knew that Tristan was just worried about her, but she couldn’t focus on that now. She couldn’t focus on anything but getting the truth out of Philip. Above all, she needed her fears appeased before she went mad.

  Loraine tried to pass Mrs. Barrow, but she took a step to block her path. “Where are you going?” Mrs. Barrow asked.

  “To the Everton estate, to speak to Philip.”

  Mrs. Barrow looked as if she’d been expecting this answer. Her expression was somber and very serious. “I need to speak to you first.”

  Loraine’s impatience mounted, but she managed to hold herself back. She took a steadying breath. “Is it urgent?”

  “It is.”

  Loraine gritted her teeth. “Alright. Go on then.”

  “I overheard you and Lord Garth speaking.”

  Loraine threw up her hands in exasperation. “Is no one in this house above eavesdropping?”

  Mrs. Barrow didn’t rise to the accusation. Clearly there was something of greater importance of her mind. “Listen to me for a moment,” she said, in a stern voice. She hadn’t used that voice with her since she’d been a child, in the period between her parents’ deaths and going to stay with her aunt.

  Loraine blinked at her and went quiet.

  “You are going to see Lord Blackhill because you want answers,” Mrs. Barrow deduced. “About this bet.”

  “I’m certain it’s a misunderstanding,” Loraine insisted.

  “It’s not.”

  Those words halted Loraine’s heart. Mrs. Barrow waited a moment, letting that sink in, before continuing. “There is something I’ve been hiding from you, Loraine… something I thought it best that you didn’t know.”

  Mrs. Barrow’s voice faltered and she looked away.

  Loraine’s dread was like Icarus, getting closer and closer to the sun. Soon enough, she knew she’d burn up and melt. She stopped breathing.

  “Do you remember Lord Edgar Strath?”

  Loraine’s frown deepened. “The gentleman who visited us in Louisiana?”

  Mrs. Barrow nodded.

  Loraine recalled him. He was a sweet fellow, with an extremely kind temperament. She’d liked him, but their friendship had become difficult to navigate when she’d realized that he was in love with her.

  “Do you recall that he stopped visiting rather suddenly?”

  “Yes,” Loraine said. “It was rather odd, given that he’d come so often prior to that. And the last time he visited, all seemed to be well between us.”

  “But that wasn’t the last time he visited.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Mrs. Barrow gestured towards a seat. “Please sit down, my love.”

  Loraine did, warily, but only because she knew Mrs. Barrow would insist on her doing so before revealing anything more.

  Once settled, Mrs. Barrow sat beside her and took hold of her hands. Loraine started to feel afraid. Mrs. Barrow looked pale and the corners of her lips were trembling.

  “The last time he visited, you were not in. It was your aunt that met him at the door. When he asked for you, she…” Loraine heard Mrs. Barrow take a shaky breath. “She told him that you found him unappealing. That his company was like-” She stopped, as if she couldn’t say the word.

  Loraine gripped her hands. “Like what?”

  “Like a thorn. She said that you wished he would stop pestering you, but that you were too kind to say it to his face so you’d taken to hiding from him instead.”

  Loraine felt like she’d been horsewhipped.

  “Poor Edgar…” she whispered. “He was such a sensitive soul. I did wonder why he stopped visiting so suddenly. To think that I would say such a thing…”

  Loraine had rather liked Edgar. Though she hadn’t had any romantic interest in him, nor any man, she’d enjoyed his company. When he’d stopped visiting, she’d had every intention of writing to him. But she recalled that her aunt had discouraged her from doing so, given how soon they’d be leaving for England.

  Loraine had become so accustomed to people coming in and out of her life quite suddenly that she hadn’t given it much thought after that.

  “But what does this have to do with the bet?”

  “That’s not all,” Mrs. Barrow said. She reached into her pocket and retrieved a piece of paper, which she handed to Loraine.

  With puckered brows, Loraine scanned it quickly. At first, she didn’t understand. “Who is this from?” She asked.

  “From Lord Strath’s aunt and uncle, who he was staying with in Louisiana.”

  She read on.

  As Edgar spoke so fondly of Miss Beauchamp, we thought it only right that we send word of his death. It is the coroner’s understanding that it was a suicide.

  She couldn’t read anymore. The letter rested limply in her lap and she covered her mouth with her hands. A broken noise escaped her, and her eyes lifted to Mrs. Barrow’s face. “He...” she whispered.

  Mrs. Barrow tried to reach out for her, to hold her, but Loraine stood and backed up a step, shaking her head wildly from side to side. “He did this because of me?”

  “It wasn’t your doing, Loraine,” Mrs. Barrow insisted. She stood and put her hands out in an attempt to placate Loraine’s nerves, but her shock and her horror wouldn’t be mitigated. “You would have treated his heart with more care.”

  Loraine continued to back up, until her back struck a bookcase. She felt her tears pouring through her fingers. At first, the information was just a lapse in her reality. But as it sunk in, she started to see the bigger picture.

  And when she realized the truth, it crumpled her.

  “Edgar Strath…”r />
  The pieces came together.

  The time Philip had spent in America, which coincided with Edgar’s time spent visiting her in Louisiana.

  The bet.

  Theodore’s anger.

  The two graves Philip had stood at in the cemetery. Not one. Two.

  Loraine didn’t speak another word. She ran out of the room and went to the stables, where she quickly saddled up her horse. Mrs. Barrow followed her outside and called after her, but Loraine was already riding out of the grounds.

  She rode hard, until she reached her destination. She didn’t even bother to tie the horse up. Dismounting, she ran through the cemetery. Her eyes scanned the grounds rapidly until she recognized where Philip had been standing that day, before he’d gone to his mother’s grave.

  “Please…” she whispered to herself. “Please don’t be him.”

  She reached the grave and looked at the stone.

  Lord Edgar Strath. Beloved son. Dear friend.

  When she saw that name, Loraine sank down beside the grave and wept.

  Chapter 30

  Lord Philip Everton, Marquess of Blackhill

  In the wake of what had happened between him and Loraine, Philip knew that he couldn’t deny that Theodore was right anymore. He had fallen in love with Loraine.

  But what Theodore didn’t yet realize was that falling in love with her wasn’t a bad thing. And Philip was determined to make him understand the truth of her.

  Philip didn’t know what had happened with Edgar. No one could truly know. But what he did know was that Loraine wasn’t the type of woman to treat a man callously.

  She wasn’t a heartbreaker. If anything, she was wary of men. She chose not to play their games.

  Edgar had always been a sensitive soul. Perhaps there was more to his suicide than they’d realized.

  With this in mind, and with a strong desire to make amends with his friend, Philip searched Theodore’s favorite taverns in the hopes of finding him.

  It didn’t take long. Theodore was in the second tavern Philip visited, smoking his favorite brand of cigar and doing what he did best. Gambling.

  When Theodore saw Philip approaching, he didn’t smile.

  “I suppose you don’t want to play,” Theodore mumbled around his cigar.

  “I haven’t come to gamble,” Philip said. “I’ve come to talk.”

  Theodore huffed, clearly unsurprised. Philip knew what his friend thought. That Philip had been tamed by love. That he’d lost everything about himself that was adventurous and wild.

  But what he had with Loraine was adventurous and wild, and it brought him far more joy than gambling and drinking ever had. He’d done those things to hide his pain. But for the first time he felt like he was able to face it. Loraine made him feel able to face it.

  “I don’t have anything to say to you,” Theodore said.

  “But I have something to say to you.” Philip pulled up a seat beside his friend and faced him, though Theodore continued to look down at his cards. “I love her, Theodore,” Philip said, after several moments. “It’s real.”

  At last, Theodore looked at him. Slowly, he took the cigar out of his mouth. “It’s real,” he echoed, and then he shook his head. “You damned fool.”

  “She’s not what you think she is. She’s different.”

  Theodore threw his cards down and stood suddenly. “I won’t listen to this,” he sneered. “Your friend is rolling in his grave.”

  Philip felt those words like a cold slap, but he couldn’t let it change his course. He stood just as Theodore started to walk out of the tavern. He followed him and grabbed him by the arm when they were outside.

  “Listen to me-”

  “I won’t listen to you,” Theodore shouted, cutting him off. He turned on him and yanked his arm free of Philip’s grip. “But you will listen to me.” He stepped closer, very suddenly, so that their noses were almost touching and they were eye-to-eye.

  Philip went silent. He felt like his heart had stopped beating, and the tension between them was electric.

  “If you choose this woman,” Theodore said, quietly and coldly. “Then you’re nothing more than a traitor.”

  With those words, Theodore gave him one final, derisive look. And then he turned around and walked away. This time, Philip didn’t follow him.

  His heart was a stone in the pit of his stomach, and his chest felt swollen with a phantom pain he felt unable to tend to. He didn’t take a breath until Theodore was out of sight. The air trembled into him and made him feel nauseous.

  Traitor.

  Philip went home with that single word stuck on loop in his head. It felt like a physical thing, insidious and terrible, being channelled through his every nerve, through his veins.

  He felt poisoned by it.

  When Philip was home, he stood in the foyer for a few moments. He realized that he didn’t want to be alone, but it felt so strange to seek out his brother when he was upset. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone to anyone for comfort. The very thought made his cheeks warm with mortification.

  But this wasn’t the time for pride. He felt tender and sore. Not just from what Theodore had said, but from what had happened with Loraine. He felt like he’d been stripped of all his defenses. He felt vulnerable, and it was frightening.

  So Philip went looking for George, who he found in the study, sorting through some papers. He was wearing a particularly ornate cassock, which made Philip smile. George blushed when he saw him, but he didn’t look embarrassed. He looked pleased.

  “Do you like it?” He asked, smiling and gesturing to himself.

  Philip leaned in the doorway and smiled back. “I do. It suits you.”

  “I think so too,” George replied. “I just did my first baptism.” His voice was so warm as he spoke, which made Philip realize that this truly was what George had always been meant for. His faith was this vibrant sun that brightened every room.

  Until that very moment, Philip had envied George’s passion. His sense of self. His belonging.

  But for the first time in years, Philip felt a similar passion for something. He felt like he belonged, and it was all because of Loraine.

  “Are you alright?” George asked. “Do you need something?”

  “I suppose I’ve come to confess,” Philip said, trying to make a joke of it. He tried to give George one of his impish smiles, but he knew that it wasn’t especially convincing.

  George did not find the joke amusing. He was concerned, and he took Philip’s words very seriously.

  “Confess to what?” He asked, with furrowed brows.

  “I was joking,” Philip insisted.

  “But there is something…”

  Philip’s smile, insincere as it was, wavered. He swallowed.

  “Is it about Miss Beauchamp?”

  Philip hesitated, then nodded.

  “It’s become more than a bet.”

  Philip raised his brows. He’d forgotten that, in his drunkenness, he’d told George that Loraine was just a bet. The thought of George knowing that made him feel horribly ashamed, more so than ever before. He didn’t answer.

  “What was it about, Philip? It’s not like you to hurt people without cause.”

  Philip looked away. “It was about Edgar,” he said, quietly.

  George frowned. “What does Edgar have to do with it?”

  “He was in love with her,” Philip explained. His heart gave a hard, painful pound. Saying it aloud somehow made it more real. His best friend had been in love with the girl Philip had fallen for. “When she turned him down, that was when he… he…”

  He couldn’t get the words out.

  George came around the desk and approached Philip. Philip did not know what he intended to do until George put his arms around him and embraced him. Just like that, his tears came. He put his forehead against George’s shoulder and let the drops roll down his cheek, onto the cassock.

  “I see,” George murmured. He stepped
back, but didn’t take his hands off Philip’s shoulders. “You were angry.”

  Philip nodded, his eyes running like rivers, his jaw hard like steel.

  “But you aren’t anymore.”