Melting Miss Wynter (Rogues and Gentlemen Book 17)

by Emma V. Leech

  There was a tense silence. Susan and Selina glanced at each other, and then back and forth between Gwenn and Sampson.

  “Where did you hear that, girls?” Sampson asked, struggling to keep his tone calm, because he would thrash the life from whatever wretch had told them.

  The twins shrugged, retreating into silence.

  Sampson let out an unsteady breath. “Well,” he said. “I’d like to know where you heard it, as it is not something I wanted you to know, however….” He smiled at them, willing his face to relax enough to put them at ease. “You already know our father was not a very nice person. I’m afraid that everything you said was true, but still, I’d like you not to say that word again. It may be true, but it is a word people use in an insulting manner. Ross is our brother, and we are glad to have him, aren’t we?”

  “Oh, yes,” the girls said at once.

  “He wears a skirt,” Susan said with a grin.

  Sampson held his tongue and didn’t correct her. With a bit of luck, she’d say that in front of Ross. He glanced at Gwenn, hoping to share the joke, but she wouldn’t look at him.

  The great flapping bird in his chest made another bid for freedom.

  “Susan, Selina, listen to me,” he said, looking at each of them and praying they would trust in him, even if Gwenn wouldn’t. “If ever you hear anything else about our father, or about any of our family, even me, I want you to come and talk to me about it. Especially if it troubles you,” he added, his voice firm.

  “But won’t you be cross?” Selina asked, glancing at him and back at her plate.

  “Not with you,” he said at once. “Never with you. I don’t like gossip, but our father created a great deal of it and… and I’m afraid your brothers, myself included, have only added to it. What you must never do is think it in any way makes you a part of it. None of us are perfect. Far from it,” he added with a wry smile. “We all do reckless or foolish things, things that other people might look down on us for, but that doesn’t make us bad people, or mean we ought to be punished. Life is complicated, and… well, we must muddle through as best we can.”

  “Yes, Sampson,” Susan said, reaching out and slipping her hand in his.

  Sampson clung to it, ridiculously glad of the gesture, as he felt as if his life was being upended on all sides.

  “We will, Sampson,” Selina echoed, and then, as she couldn’t reach him across the table, she got to her feet and ran around to give him a hug.

  Sampson hugged the girl’s slight frame to him, overwhelmed by how much these little girls meant to him, and how badly he wanted Gwenn to continue being a part of all their lives. He let out a breath.

  “I needed that, thank you,” he said, tweaking her nose as she released him.

  Daring to hope, he turned back to Gwenn, but she had turned away from him and was staring out of the window.

  Sampson lingered over his breakfast, hoping he’d have an opportunity to speak to Gwenn alone. Once the girls had finished, she rose to shepherd them out of the room and he tried to stop her.

  “Miss Wynter, might I have a word?” he asked as she reached the door.

  She didn’t turn around. “Certainly, my lord. There’s plenty of time once we are settled in the carriage. I must finish my packing now, or we shall be late.”

  “Gwenn,” he said, lowering his voice. “I don’t give a damn for the packing or being late. I must speak with you.”

  For a moment, she hesitated, and then she turned and faced him. “There’s nothing to say, Lord Cheam,” she said, with such cool precision he felt the chill of the words in his heart, and then she left the room.

  ***

  Gwenn tried to do better for the rest of the morning. She hoped the girls had been unaware of the strange atmosphere between her and Sampson after the fun of the previous day, but that would not continue. They were bright children and it would soon become apparent that something was amiss. Besides which, she could not allow the girls to suffer for her own selfish actions. Whilst she knew that she was not entirely to blame, and that Sampson had pursued her, she could not help but believe her own nature had led them to this pass.

  She knew what people said of her family, particularly of the De Wynn women, and the truth of those comments made her cheeks heat. The De Wynn family was littered with fallen women, mistresses and courtesans, scandalous women who had taken their pleasures where they liked, how they liked, and to the devil with the consequences. Families had been ruined, duels fought, and hearts broken over her kin, and now she saw how it happened. It was in her nature, in her blood. Perhaps there was something inherent in her that she couldn’t even see, that called to men and tempted them to act in a self-destructive manner? Could that be possible?

  She forced her mind from such thoughts and back to the children. Though the effort at appearing happy and vivacious was exhausting, she’d been trying her best and doing a fair job of keeping them entertained she hoped. With Sampson—no, Lord Cheam—it was far harder. Trying to keep her manner cool and professional and yet not unfriendly, for the girls’ sake, was wearing on her nerves. That his gaze constantly returned to hers, full of warmth and an almost puppyish desire for forgiveness, was enough to make her head pound. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and cry and have him soothe her and tell her everything would be all right, but she wasn’t a child and, whilst she wanted to hear the lie, she knew it would only unravel when faced with reality.

  Better to face it now, head on. She’d been a fool to think even these coming days were hers to have, not when it risked his relationship with his sisters. Over and over again, her mind returned to the image of the two of them intimately entwined in her bed, of exactly what they’d been doing… and then the little voice beyond the door, asking for her. She closed her eyes and shuddered. No. She’d not risk the girls finding them in such a way. She might be wanton and no better than she ought to be, but she’d not ruin a family like this to satisfy her own lust. Even she wasn’t that depraved.

  With luck, they would catch up with his brother and his aunt tonight, and she could keep her distance without being obvious about it. She knew it would be best if she left now, before Sampson could try to persuade her back into his arms. He would try, that much was obvious, but the twins were so excited for her to see the castle and share Christmas with them all.

  How could she disappoint them both?

  That she was not ready to leave Sampson yet was also true, if an exercise in self-flagellation, but that she must endure the coming days without touching him seemed to be a fitting punishment for her foolishness. Let it be a lesson to you, Guinevere de Wynn, she told herself, staring out over a landscape that was harsh and untamed and stunningly beautiful, that kind of life is not for the likes of you.

  ***

  On the western shore of Loch Lomond, stood a charming little village built of local sandstone to house the workers from the nearby slate quarries. Not that there was a great deal to see at this late hour past shadowy shapes, the edges highlighted with what remained of the snow, as the carriage finally rumbled ponderously through the main street and halted outside The Drovers Inn.

  Sampson had long since subsided into gloomy melancholy. Though he’d put on a cheerful front to keep the girls happy—as Gwenn had obviously done—they were all dozing now. He suspected she was only pretending, but he knew it was hopeless when the girls were with them. His heart was leaden. He was afraid she’d never allow him the chance to speak with her, to make her understand what he felt. It appeared she had decided things were at an end between them, and there was nothing he could say to change her mind.

  Well, damn that.

  He wasn’t letting her go without a fight.

  When he saw Samuel waiting for them on the front step of the inn, he didn’t know what to feel, whether to punch him in the bloody nose or embrace him in thanks.

  “Well met, Sunny,” Samuel said with a grin after hugging each of the twins. Aunt May came out to join them, her keen gaze scr
utinising both him and Gwenn in a manner that gave him pause.

  “Come along, girls,” Miss Wynter said, chivvying her charges out of the cold and into the warmth of the inn.

  Aunt May followed them, leaving Samuel and Sampson alone. Sampson watched Gwenn go and knew she’d not reappear tonight. She’d plead a headache and eat in her room, and he’d have no opportunity to see her. The Drovers was a busy place and he could not risk a furtive excursion to her bedroom, even if he thought there were the slightest chance she’d let him in.

  Samuel took one look at his expression and hurried him off to a private parlour where they could have a drink.

  “I half expected you to break my nose,” Samuel said with a grin as he poured a generous measure from a decanter into a glass and handed it to him.

  Sampson didn’t even know what it was, but knocked it back without bothering to ask. He didn’t much care. Whisky, he realised, relishing the harsh burn as it lit a fire down his throat.

  Sam stared at him and Sampson gave the glass back.

  “Ah,” he said, frowning at Sampson and refilling the glass before returning it. “Want to talk about it?”

  “Not much,” Sampson growled, downing the next glass in two large swallows and handing the glass back again.

  “I take it the objective is getting drunk?” Samuel said, taking the glass and regarding him with concern.

  “Correct.”

  Sam reached for his own glass, emptied it down his throat, grimaced and then filled it again along with Sampson’s before pulling a chair up and sitting down.

  “We’ll regret this in the morning,” Samuel said with a lopsided grin, putting the glass back in his brother’s hand.

  Sampson snorted and took a large mouthful.

  “Oh, come on, Sunny, spit it out,” Sam coaxed him. “I take it all is not sunshine and roses with Miss Wynter?”

  “I ought to kill you,” Sampson said, rubbing a hand over his face. “But—”

  “But?” Sam repeated in surprise. “There’s not usually a but after that statement. It’s normally unequivocal.”

  “Yes, well,” Sampson grumbled. “Depending on what happens over the next few days I may retract the but.”

  “All right,” Samuel said, wary now. “So shall we play twenty questions, or are you going to tell me?”

  Sampson glowered and took another large swallow from his glass, though his empty belly protested.

  “Right you are, then.” Samuel shuffled his chair closer. “Have you kissed her?”

  Feeling his brother’s intent gaze on him, Sampson frowned. He wasn’t certain he wanted to discuss this with anyone, but… oh, hell, he’d go mad if he didn’t, and Sam was his brother.

  “Yes.”

  His idiot brother grinned at him. “Well done, Sunny,” he said, reaching forward to clap him on the shoulder.

  Sampson smacked his hand away. “Don’t you dare speak of her like some common strumpet,” he snapped, fury rising in his chest. “She’s a lady, a fine one at that, and I happen to… to….”

  Samuel sat back and stared at him. He was the only one of them who had inherited their father’s glass green eyes, and they missed nothing. Sampson looked away from him.

  “Forgive me,” Samuel said, the regret in his voice sincere. “I meant no disrespect, in any case, but I’m sorry if I offended you.”

  Sampson downed the rest of his drink and shoved the glass towards his brother.

  Samuel took it but looked uneasy. “You’re in love with her.”

  “For what it’s worth,” he agreed, at least, he assumed that’s what the stabbing pain in his chest was.

  Gwenn had said it was an infatuation, that he was besotted. Was that all it was? Could something as simple as that make him feel as if he was losing his mind, as if his life would never be the same without her?

  “And does she love you?”

  He drew in a deep breath. “Currently, she can’t stand to look at me.”

  “Ah. And… before?”

  Sampson allowed his mind to drift back to the perfection of yesterday, to snowball fights and laughter and singing, and of the most erotic experience of his entire life, when he had watched Gwenn pleasuring herself in her bath.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I… I’d thought perhaps….” He sat forward and ran a hand through his hair. “Christ, I don’t know. Give me another bloody drink.”

  Samuel downed his own glass and poured another measure into both his and Sampson’s but hesitated before he handed it over. “Shouldn’t you try and sort it out rather than… well, this?”

  He gestured with the glass and Sampson reached out and took it from him.

  “I would, but she’s avoiding me, and there’s nowhere I can be private with her. It will have to wait until we get to Tor Castle, though I don’t know how I can endure waiting. Then, brother dear, you will help me to be alone with her, seeing as you’re so bloody adept at it.”

  Samuel had the grace to look a little sheepish and raised his glass to chink against Sampson’s. “Then let us drink and be merry, for we may not die tomorrow, but after a couple of hours on the road, we’re going to bloody well wish we were dead.”

  Chapter 16

  “Wherein a drunken Romeo gets his just desserts.”

  Gwenn jolted awake from an uneasy sleep, certain she’d heard a noise but unsure of what it had been or where it had come from. She lay still, blinking into the darkness and waiting for it to come again, and nearly leapt out of her skin as something tapped on her bedroom window.

  Scolding herself for even contemplating ghosts, she got out of bed and hurried to the window, and almost screamed as she pulled back the curtains.

  Sampson was outside and, considering the bone-breaking drop beneath him, she could only conclude that he’d run mad or was thoroughly foxed.

  “Are you insane?” she demanded, thrusting the window up as he swayed precariously on the thickly tangled ivy stems that covered the back of the inn. The answer was obvious enough when he spoke.

  “Had to speak to you, Gwennie,” he slurred, and she exclaimed with fury as she realised he was more than foxed, he was thoroughly soused. “B’fore I go mad.”

  “Get in here, you blithering idiot,” she cursed, hauling him inside before someone saw him or he broke his stupid neck. He landed with a heavy thud on her bedroom floor and groaned, clutching his head as he sat upright.

  “What the devil are you playing at?” she demanded, trying to scold him furiously without ever raising her voice, which was frustrating to say the least. “Do you have no thought for your sisters? I believed you were a good man, doing your best to keep scandal from dirtying your name any further, but this….”

  She gestured at the state of him and he shook his head.

  “Don’t scold me, love,” he said, the words slurring a little and sounding so pitiful she didn’t know whether to throw something at him or hug him. “I know. I know I’m an idiot, I know I don’t deserve you or the girls, but you wouldn’t see me, wouldn’t talk to me, and I can’t bear it. ’Sides,” he added, his forehead furrowing, “it was Sam’s idea. He told me I ought not let you have time to think about leaving me, because the more time you had the better the idea would seem.”

  “Oh, Sampson!” she exclaimed, shaking her head just as a soft knock sounded at the door.

  They both froze as the handle turned, and Aunt May crept into the room.

  “Ah,” she said, spotting Sampson and closing the door behind her. “I thought as much when I heard the thud.”

  She smiled at Gwenn’s horrified expression. “Don’t worry, dear. My room is next to yours and I had an ear out for something of the sort. Once those two start drinking, trouble isn’t far behind. They’re not called The Scandalous Brothers for no reason. Impulsive devils when the drink takes them, and it was easy enough to guess why this one wanted to drown his sorrows.”

  She folded her arms and stared down at her nephew with a combination of dismay and a
musement, while Gwenn found a searing blush scalding her cheeks. Sampson leant his head back against the wall and closed his eyes with a groan.

  “Mrs B-Bainbridge,” Gwenn stammered, horrified to imagine what the woman must be thinking, and feeling far worse as she realised it was all true.

  “Oh, hush, child,” she said, with a tut. “For starters, it’s Aunt May, and there’s no need to be so missish about having a man in your room. I was young once, you know, so don’t look so appalled. The question is, what do we do with him now?”

  Gwenn blinked in astonishment, gaping at her. Sampson began to snore.

  Aunt May rolled her eyes. “Oh, how I long for the good old days. We were far wilder and freer than your generation, you know. Now it’s all appearances and morals. Nothing’s changed in the least, it’s just people pretend they don’t get up to all the naughty things we did with glee and no shame at all.”

  She laughed as Gwenn continued to regard her with wonder.

  “I had a great many beaus, I’ll have you know,” she said, smiling. “Until Father forced me to marry Arthur Bainbridge.” She grimaced and shook her head. “He was disgustingly rich and very respectable, and not a bad man when all’s said and done, but how I wished I’d taken my chance to run off with his younger brother when he asked me. Not a shilling to his name but, oh… oh, what a man, and so handsome too. I think we’d have been happy. Such a long time I’ve regretted it.”

  Gwen stared as Aunt May’s eyes grew misty and she put a hand to her heart. When she spoke again her voice was faint, the sorrow audible.

  “He died a couple of years later, in a duel. I always wondered if….” She watched with her heart aching as the woman pressed her lips together, fighting for composure. “But never mind that,” she said briskly, though her voice trembled a little. Suddenly she shook her head as if casting the memories aside and gave Gwenn a dazzling smile. “What to do with Sunny, then? Silly boy. He’s fallen head over ears for you, of course, I could tell the moment you arrived this evening. It was written all over his face.”