Page 118 of A Gentleman's Wager

“Devil, woman. Who made you a makepeace?”

Louisa pulled her hands from under herself and smoothed her dress over her knees. “I suppose it was foolish to imagine you’d listen, but I’m entirely sick of arguments. Friends shouldn’t fight.” Bella was still behaving strangely around her. Not horridly, just awkwardly.

To her surprise, Vaughan cocked his head as though actually intrigued by her words. “What about lovers?”

“They definitely should fight.”

To her surprise, he laughed. His rich tenor startled some birds, which took flight.

“I suppose you’re right,” he said as the smile faded from his eyes. “Though an argument can also be an aphrodisiac. Perhaps you should take your own advice. Where is the delightful Captain Wakefield these days?”

It was her turn to glower. She stuck up her nose. “I don’t require Frederick Wakefield for my happiness.”

“Is that what you come out here every day to tell yourself? That he’s a rogue, and rakeshame, and unworthy of you? Drop the pretence, Louisa. You still love him. If ‘twere otherwise, you would never have taken me to your bed. You practically spelled that out at the time.”

Her mouth fell open, a protest ready on her tongue, but Vaughan pressed two fingers to his lips then transferred them to hers, silencing her. “We used one another to our own ends, there is no shame to be had in that. Neither one of us was deceived. As for Wakefield, there are far worse weaknesses he could possess than an inability to turn a pretty girl down when he’s in his cups. I’m sure if you married, he’d be tediously faithful.”

“Unlike you, when you marry.”

“Something I never intend to do, so ‘tis unlikely to be an issue.”

For a moment she considered spitting in his face, but he turned his attention back to the choppy water. The recent stretches of rain had flooded it to capacity, and further rainfall would surely cause it to burst its banks. Maddened, she rose to her feet. Vaughan caught her wrist in an iron grip.

“You can be as angry as you like with me, but I’ve never deceived you, Louisa, and I don’t intend to do so now. You know in your heart that what I’m saying is true. You love him.”

He let go.

Louisa gazed blankly at the dappled leaves on the ground before her. Her anger twisted itself tighter and tighter. It would be easy to turn it upon him, but he was not the source.

Vaughan idly brushed a faded leaf from his arm. “Who was he with?”

It seemed almost incomprehensible that he didn’t know. “Millicent Hayes. The witch from the party in the obscene dress.”

He thought for a moment, head cocked. “Ah, yes, I recall. The aspiring courtesan. You’ve nothing to fear from her.”

Her knees buckled, depositing her back on the stone bench practically on his lap. “Don’t I? It seems he cannot keep away from her.”

“Or perhaps the lady thrust herself upon him.” Vaughan made a few inches of space between them.

Louisa shook her head. Could that be true? She didn’t know, or even if it mattered. “It was awful,” she lamented. “I walked in on them, but they didn’t even know I was there. She was all over him, like a serpent with voluminous breasts. Writhing and jiggling, and he was enraptured by it.”

“That is indeed an image one does not desire burned into the brain.”

“It is burned into mine,” she said waspishly. “And I cannot forgive him for it.”

A tear trickled down her cheek. Vaughan brushed it away. “You lay with me, how is that any different to what he did?”

“You’re not a common whore.”

“Why thank you,” he chuckled. “Although I fear many would name me worse things, including your captain. Listen to me, Louisa.” He turned her so they faced, then clasped tight both her hands. “Unless I’m greatly mistaken, he’s never made you any promises, not because he does not desire to, but because he believes himself unworthy. He has not the means to support yo—”

“I have all the money we could ever want.”

Vaughan raised his hands. “You do not need to lecture me on that point. Just hear me out. What I am trying to say, is that none of that matters, there is no future for the two of you if you cannot bring yourself to forgive one another.”

“How can I, possibly?”

“Louisa, how can you not?”