Page 16 of For a Scandalous Wager (Breaking the Rules of the Beau Monde #3)

CHAPTER 15

I t felt as if she’d gone away, not just to Mayfair, but far away into a fantasy. Their little adventure to the boxing club had opened Evelyn up to all sorts of pleasures, and Rochester seemed eager to accommodate everything except one. He would not fully consummate their union. He refused to break her maidenhead, but despite his stubborn determination to torture her, she couldn’t refuse him anything. She loved him. She had loved him for so long that she couldn’t remember feeling any other way.

Today, he’d gone out after Hudson had chided him for his lack of interest in his usual pursuits, like work. He and Darrington apparently were in cahoots over a possible business deal that involved Belgravia.

Evelyn wasn’t privy to the details, but she’d been reading about the progress and the promises of turning the square into something lavishly decadent for the elite. The cost would be astronomical, and investors were needed. That’s where Darrington came in. He found the deals, and Rochester invested his winnings with him. The yearly stipend he received from his family estate was barely enough to keep his house in Mayfair together. His true income came from business and billiards.

She sat in his study, which doubled as his library. There were bookcases but not enough to store the books stacked on the floor. She suggested refurbishing that room before the dining room, which he disagreed with. They acted as a married couple, and Evelyn avoided thinking otherwise. She’d pushed aside reality and the fact her week was almost out. Time was passing too quickly.

“Miss Markham,” Mrs. Lovie Hawke, Rochester’s infamous cousin, appeared in the heavily framed doorway. Evelyn stood from her cross-legged position on the floor. She had been sifting through a pile of books on economics and was happy to move on to something else.

The wrinkles in her only dress and an embarrassingly tattered hem preceded her until she was sure that Mrs. Hawke would judge her as lacking. Until today, they hadn’t properly met, although it was her chemise that Evelyn wore. She felt the need to curtsy. The woman was truly beautiful. Auburn hair with gold streaks, green eyes, and a figure to rival the diamonds of the first water.

“Excuse me, I was trying to help Rochester make room for more books.”

“I’ve been there myself. I keep reminding him he needs a proper library.”

Evelyn smiled because she’d said very much the same thing to him yesterday.

Mrs. Hawke held out her hand. “I’m Mrs. Lovie Hawke. Rochester’s cousin and Hudson’s sister. I believe I saw you at the theater some weeks ago.”

“Yes. I was there with a friend.”

“I was there with my cousin. Isn’t that dreadfully pathetic?”

Evelyn didn’t know what to make of the woman. Should she ask her to sit or wait for Mrs. Hawke to extend the invitation? The house belonged to neither of them and then to both of them at the same time.

Mrs. Hawke broke the uncomfortable spell by taking her hand and sitting with her on the only settee in the room. “I thought you might need some feminine company for a change. This lot can be rather shortsighted.”

“Conversation often comes around to billiards, but Rochester has spoken of you fondly. He tells me you are expecting.”

“In about six months.” She smiled kindly. “Although, between you and me, my husband and I have not been married long enough for the mathematical scholars to approve.”

Evelyn didn’t know what to make of that admittance, except she had the notion that Mrs. Hawke was trying to make her feel comfortable under the seemingly condemning circumstances. “Congratulations,” Evelyn finally said.

“Hawke is ecstatic. Currently, he’s doing his best to make us a home. He lived abroad for most of his life but inherited his grandmother’s manse, and he says it isn’t quite ready. I think he just doesn’t care for the Season and less for the theater. That’s why Rochester kindly agreed to escort me.”

Evelyn buried a thin layer of unease beneath a smile. She appreciated Mrs. Hawke’s honesty even if she was not quite ready to give up her own. “I wanted to thank you for the chemise. I don’t know what I’d have done. Mine was in ruins after we were caught in the downpour. That’s why I’m here,” she said a bit too quickly. “I couldn’t make it to my destination, and Rochester was kind enough to put me up. He and my brother, Winn, are old friends.”

“Will you be here long? What I mean to say is I could lend you another dress if you’d like.”

“I don’t wish to put you out, but I don’t think this dress has another day left in it, I’m afraid.”

“Good. Because I went ahead and brought one regardless. I took the liberty and had the dress sent to your room. I wasn’t about to let you say no. By the way, Hudson tells me Rochester seems very happy.”

The comment puzzled Evelyn. She would have never described Rochester as unhappy. He was always in good humor, bantering, jesting, smiling. How odd. “Let me order refreshments. Unless you’d like to do that? I’m not sure what’s customary since I don’t really live here.” Evelyn grimaced. “Do I look as awkward as I sound?”

“There is no need. Why don’t you wait right here, and I’ll go speak with someone in the kitchen. Cook isn’t always around. This house is sorely understaffed if you haven’t noticed.”

“I’m rather relieved it is, under the circumstances.”

Mrs. Hawke knew the house better than Evelyn, and she nervously sat on the settee, trying to manage her skirts into submission and work up some story or plan that would sound believable. Except she had no idea what, if anything, Rochester had told his cousin. She had a faint recollection of Mrs. Hawke here the night she arrived.

“It’s all settled,” Mrs. Hawke said as she strolled back into the study. She seated herself at the opposite end of the settee so they could see each other.

“You said that Rochester seemed happy, but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him unhappy. Unless you count the times he’s been miffed with me for one reason or another.”

Mrs. Hawke forced a smile after looking as if she wanted to say something but shouldn’t.

“I imagine Rochester said little about me. He’s not only my brother’s friend but mine as well.”

“I thought as much.” Mrs. Hawke’s words were warm and full of understanding.

“He actually rescued me from my home before I was to be betrothed to a horrible man.” Evelyn sighed heavily, feeling guilty. “Not horrible. Just not…”

“Rochester.”

“Not the man I wanted to marry.” She finished lamely. “But, yes, also not Rochester. I do find myself in a bad way.”

“I’m not here to judge, Miss Markham. I’m also not here for gossip. But I am here to listen if you need it.”

“I’m not sure what I need. Rochester’s given me a week-long reprieve from the twisted knot my father has made of my life. But I must return before anyone knows I’m missing. That time is coming very soon. I wouldn’t ask, except I can’t get Rochester to satisfy my questions.”

“I’ll answer whatever I can.” Mrs. Hawke dipped her head to see Evelyn better.

“He’s told me almost nothing about the three years he was away, but I know whatever happened there keeps him imprisoned from a life he might choose.”

“He’s shared very little with me as well. But you’re right. I do think it’s something that troubles him deeply.”

Evelyn chewed her thumb, wondering how big a hole she chanced to dig. “If not that, then can you tell me about his home life? Why doesn’t he live on his family’s estate? Is it because of his mother?”

Mrs. Hawke bit her lip and nodded. “Partly, yes. He’s told you about her? How she died?”

“In his arms as a boy.”

“Oh, dear. Yes. Our mothers were sisters. My mother passed away from illness when I was very young, and we came to stay with my uncle and cousins for long stretches during the summer. My father said we were a handful, and I’ve little doubt that was true. We, at least, were there to keep each other distracted. And then my father died in a hunting accident. At least that’s what they tell me.”

“I’m so sorry.” She automatically reached across the cushions, her hand flat to the red-striped settee.

Mrs. Hawke paused; the air in the room seemed to thin, and she breathed rapidly until a maid brought tea and broke the spell.

“There’s little else to tell except our collective childhood was survivable because we had each other. I’d say we’re more like siblings than cousins.”

The subject matter was too personal, and Evelyn didn’t ask Mrs. Hawke any more questions. Clearly, Rochester battled more skeletons than she anticipated.

Somewhere around eleven that night, Evelyn heard the front door groan, then the unmistakable sound of two men shouting, and then boisterous laughter. She threw one of Rochester’s robes on and crept from the room, backing against a wall when Hudson bounded up the stairs toward the gallery opposite her and down the hallway, presumably to his room. She walked to the ornately carved rail and looked at the foyer. She saw a light burning in the drawing room where Rochester now slept.

In her bare feet, she padded down the stairs and tapped lightly on the half-open door to the drawing room.

“What is it, Hud?”

“It’s me.” Evelyn stepped in and shut the door behind her.

He blinked several times.

“Have you had enough to drink?” she asked, a smile in her voice.

“Almost. Have you come to invite me to your boudoir?”

“I would if I thought you’d comply with my wishes.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Are you tired?”

“Not anymore, my dear. Not with you standing there in my robe. What’s underneath?”

“Guess.”

“What do I win if I’m correct?”

“A kiss.”

“Where?”

She giggled. “Here.” She pointed to her cheek. “Worth it?”

His gaze spanned every inch of her, an approving smile on his lips. “Every bit,” he said seriously. “You’re wearing the only chemise you own.”

She pointed to her cheek again, and he followed with a chaste kiss, then he wrapped his arms securely around her and kissed her throat. “Before you get too carried away, I have a proposition.”

He pulled back, scratching his forehead. “Will I like this, or will it exhaust me?”

“It might make your day.”

“Or night?” The upswing in his voice matched the gleam in his eye.

“For me, they are all the same since I rarely leave this house.” She hadn’t intended to guilt him into compliance, meaning nothing by the remark, but he grimaced and nodded. “The challenge of the wager happens in the billiard room.”

“Lead the way.” If his boyish grin were any indication, he considered this a win before the competition began.

Before Rochester closed the door, she had a box of billiard balls open, placing two on the baize. One red, one white.

“Are you setting up my shot?”

“No,” she said as she picked a cue stick from the rack. “I’m setting up mine.”

“Yours?” He chuckled, not uncomplimentary just astonished.

“I’ve been practicing. Now, the wager is a bit of truth if I sink a ball.” She placed the red ball in line with a corner pocket and grabbed the stick rest because she wasn’t tall enough for the reach.” She placed both the rest and the stick on the table while she cinched the robe tighter.

“If you remove the robe, I’m not likely to care if you miss the shot at all.” He leaned an elbow on the high bar, his head resting on his hand. A man of arrogant leisure, watching her as if she were the sport.

“I’d be happy to if I thought it would help my game.”

“Remind me what the wager is.”

“A bit of truth.”

He looked wary and challenged her with a cocked eyebrow.

“I want to know why this little trip to Bath destroyed all chance for us. Unless, of course, it’s a convenient excuse.”

He straightened, crossing his arms. “No, not about Bath.”

“Then it’s an excuse?” She knew it wasn’t. He needed baiting.

“You know it isn’t. But it’s not my story to tell. Not completely.”

“Winn told his wife, I’m sure of it.”

“You’re not my wife, Evelyn.” She would never get used to his brash remarks.

She picked up the white ball, balancing it in her palm and examining its weight.

“Don’t you dare throw that ball.”

She tossed it back and forth between her hands, a stern, determined stare boring into him.

He hissed a sigh, dragging his hands through his hair. “All right, for God’s sake, but you’re giving me back my shilling. And if you miss the damn shot, I say nothing.”

“Deal.” She began setting up the shot again.

“The shilling first.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Should I? You’ve tricked me here, darling.”

She left him alone, flew to her room, and brought back the shilling. She placed it on the table, but before she made another move, he snatched it up, bent at the waist, and stuffed the coin into the side of his boot. Then, with a lazy smile, he leaned against the bar, his arms folded. He inclined his head toward the table.

She set the red ball again, lined up the white behind it, and set the rest. Careful that everything was in place, she sighted down the cue stick, adjusted her stance, and sucked in a nervous breath. It wasn’t just the bet. She was nervous because he watched her play a game that he’d mastered. Her robe fell open, but she ignored it. With a hardy tap, she sent the white ball clacking into the red one and then held her breath, waiting for the red ball to fall into the pocket. It wobbled near the edge, and for a heart-stopping moment, she thought it would stick, and then it fell into the leather netting. She felt it in her soul.

When she looked up, he was staring at her. “I did it!”

“Very nice, Goose.”

“Did you see it?”

He chuckled. “Of course, but you’re standing there in a thin chemise. What shall I look at now?”

She ran to him on bare feet, throwing her arms around his neck and feeling safe as always when his hands, warm and strong, slid under the robe, around her waist. He held her tight while her heart beat with this small success.

She pulled back. “Now, the wager.”

He lowered his mouth and kissed her hard, his fingers digging into her back, his tongue memorizing her mouth as if they’d never have this chance again. A moan growled in his throat, and he splayed a hand over her breast. “You’re mine, Goose,” he whispered in her ear. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

She clung to him, wondering at the cryptic remark.

He set her back from him. “I’ll tell you my part. But first, tell me what your father said about Winn’s absence.”

“He never said anything more than Winn had taken a holiday. I assumed you and Darrington, along with Winn, had planned it together. I didn’t see you again after my come-out. I wrote to Winn. Did he get my letters?”

“I’m certain he did.”

“He never wrote back. I just thought you were all young, reckless men.”

“We were.” He scrubbed a hand across his mouth. She backed up against the table and watched him flounder for the right words.

“It can’t be all that bad.”

“We broke the rules, Evelyn. Rules that could have changed our lives and ruined others.” He pointed a look at her.

“I’m listening.”

“It started innocently enough. Darrington and I had followed Winn to your come-out because Winn was enamored with Adeline. After Darrington and I had a few drinks, we decided that the overly sweet innocence of such an affair was not to our liking, and the last place we wanted to be was at a debutante ball. So we took our inebriated selves and decided to play out our lot at a rather disreputable gaming hell. Winn, of course, followed us. We were loud and obnoxious, and your brother wouldn’t have a drop of liquor because he thought we needed a nursemaid.”

“I’m guessing he was right.”

Rochester nodded, smirking with a lopsided smile. “More than right. For my part, I gambled away seven thousand pounds in less than ten minutes. Darrington didn’t do much better, and Winn bet nothing at all. There were words thrown about. The proprietor had taken a dislike to Darrington right away, and he wasn’t keen on titled men. Since that was my future, the man didn’t care for me either. The house cheated, and we lost. We were stupid and drunk and saying things only young, foolish fops say. Running our mouths in the wrong part of Town.”

“And?”

“And that’s my part.”

“It doesn’t make sense. That was five years ago. Stupid is not a crime.”

“The way we did it, it was. Our reputations were at stake, but more than anything, your reputation was at stake. Darrington’s sisters would have been affected as well, and your father wouldn’t allow it. He loves you that much.”

“But the house cheated. You didn’t.”

“I didn’t.”

Her eyes went round, and she sucked in a breath. “Winn did,” she whispered. “He didn’t lose.”

“He didn’t bet. He wasn’t drunk. He wasn’t to blame. But he paid the price.”

“Seven thousand pounds,” she said in awe. “And Darrington? How much did he lose?”

Rochester rolled his eyes. He looked pained.

“I’ve already guessed it. You might as well tell all.”

He swallowed. “Darrington lost enough. The total between us was over ten thousand pounds. It was a fortune, Evelyn. And Winn, being as young and foolish as we were, decided the house was at fault, and he,”—he shook his head—“he won it back.”

“Winn is a master at card tricks.”

Rochester nodded, pulling his arms closer to his chest.

“All of it? He cheated and won all of it back?”

“Yes. The house accused him, and there was nothing we could do. If it had been a hundred pounds, the outcome would have been bad, but not a matter of fraud. In the right court, Winn could have seen the gallows or at least prison, and you would have never made a decent marriage. It was serious. It wasn’t a game.”

“You ran away.”

“No,” he said emphatically. “But we were rescued from ourselves by a benefactor who not only paid the sum of ten thousand but also a hefty fine. And Winn left in hopes of keeping gossip from forming.”

“Did my father ask him to leave?”

“Ask Winn the circumstances, not me.”

“And the benefactor? Did he demand retribution?”

Rochester laughed, a haunted hollow sound in his chest. “He paid it all and demanded that we stay away forever. Coming home was a risk.” He licked his lips. “You here is an even bigger risk than just a few scandalous rules broken. If your father finds out, if Winn finds out, I’m a dead man at the end of a dueling pistol. Can’t you see that? My actions as a young idiot almost ruined your life. And here we are, and I’m doing it all over again.”

“You said my father has money. You know that because he was the benefactor.”

“Of course. And I’ve tried to make retribution. I’ve tried to apologize. I’ve tried to pay him back. But he’ll have none of it. I am persona non-grata. He does not want me near you. So you see, this thing we have will never work.”

“I think it’s working rather well.”

He reached forward and took her arm, bringing her to him. With his arms around her again, his head propped on the top of hers, she heard his heart hammering fiercely. “I love you, Evelyn, but your father will never have me.”

“But I will. I don’t blame you.”

“You should. It’s my fault Winn had to go away. Darrington and I thought we owed it to him to follow. So, we left too. And I don’t wish to speak ill of your father. He has done what he thinks is best for you. This baron, I’m sure, is perfect.”

She pounded her fist on his chest. “Don’t say that. It isn’t true. And my father cannot hold a grudge forever.”

“He uses the money I owe him against me. He threatens to make it a legal matter of debt if I ever cross him again. That would ruin me in the business world, and God knows my father has done nothing to secure a decent future for my inherited title. Rochester will live on in infamy of some kind. Did you hear about Lord Rochester’s faltering ruse of a business? They’d throw the fool in debtor’s prison if they could . That’s what the ton would say if they knew. My wife, my children, would not survive the cut. You know how evil people are.” Knuckles brushed her cheek like a feather, and eyes of pure love caressed her.

“I’ll talk to him.”

“No, Evelyn. You’ll make it worse. I promise.”

At two in the morning, Evelyn cried herself to sleep. There had to be something she could do. Her father was pigheaded, she knew that. But that his concern for her would, in turn, make her miserable could not continue.