Page 29 of For a Scandalous Wager (Breaking the Rules of the Beau Monde #3)

CHAPTER 28

“ A ha!” Rochester exclaimed, reading through the morning mail.

Hudson looked up from the sofa. “Good news, I take it?”

“The best. Well, almost. Lord Bastion wants to host a night of billiards, and he’s insisting I must come. It’s working, Hud.”

“He’s just looking for entertainment.”

“What does it matter when he wants me there, rubbing my aristocratic elbows with all his business cronies?” He shifted his feet flat on the floor and felt Evelyn’s shilling slide under his big toe. This game he played was for them both, and the sooner he fell into step with Bastion’s partners, the closer he came to having a plan that not even Mr. Markham could turn away. He flipped through the customary correspondence: a ball at the Pemberley’s, a musicale, and tea at Mrs. Drake’s—no doubt, with a dozen single young ladies vying for his future.

He pulled up the next letter, uncrossed his legs, and sat forward, disregarding the rest of the post.

“What is it?” Hudson asked.

“It’s from Mr. Markham.” Rochester broke the seal and unfolded the letter. “He wants to see me.”

“When?”

“Now.” He scanned over the unimportant proper greeting. “He wants to address something of great import, and if I would like to truly rectify our relationship, I should be there no later than… Oh, God.” He hung his head, then looked up from under his brow. “He wants me there tomorrow.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“Do you have to ask? I just said I have a meeting with Bastion the day after tomorrow, and I can’t see how I should get away in time to make that. All this travel. Dammit!” He tossed the letter on the tea table and watched it glide like a card across the polished surface. “Why must everything be so difficult?”

Without asking, Hudson picked up the letter and gave it a quick read. “Write Mr. Markham back and tell him you have business to attend that is as important to your future as a meeting with him would be.”

“Really? You think he’ll take kindly to that after I humiliatingly ruined his arrangement with Cumberland in public?”

“Cumberland,” they both said simultaneously, obviously coming to the same conclusion.

“The contract has been broken, and the jackass is fining him,” Rochester said.

“Who’s the jackass? Mr. Henry Markham or Lord Cumberland?”

“Neither, I suppose. More like I am the ass in this scenario.” He fell back, facing the ceiling and nervously running his palms back and forth over the arms of the chair. “I promised to pay the fine if there were any. Unless he’s decided to bless a marriage between Evelyn and me, which I don’t get the feeling from that letter he intends to do without addressing this mystery first. Oh, bloody hell. Why? Why now?” He tipped his boot heel to the floor and felt the shilling slide against the bottom of his foot.

Hudson suddenly sat up. “I have an idea.”

Rochester tucked in his chin and regarded his cousin with caution.

“Send Remington.”

“Hawke? How would I explain that?”

“He plays as well as you do. You must admit. Let him charm them. You agreed yourself it’s entertainment. The man is smart and runs a business on two continents. And he’s your cousin by marriage and my brother-in-law. I should think that’s enough.”

“ And I’ve already made the deal with Bastion.” Rochester began to see a clear solution. He sat forward again. “The more family tied to this endeavor, the better. How should we word it?”

“I’ll take care of it. You pack.”

“What if Hawke doesn’t come?”

“Quit with the doom and gloom. He’ll come, Rochester. Let me get to the note, so we can send a messenger.”

“Two days. It can be done, right?”

“Yes.”

Rochester had to believe it because he couldn’t miss the meeting with Markham. Of course, it was more important than business, except that his future was tied to the good name he’d been trying to build, which in turn was connected to the business of marrying Evelyn. What a vicious circle.

Instead of his coach, Rochester took a horse and rode hellbent from Mayfair to Rosewood Manor, changing horses often and arriving at the Markham’s by nightfall. As a result, he looked a disgrace. When he dropped the rein into the hands of a footman, he wondered if he’d made a mistake not stopping at the inn to wash up. He brought with him a nice change of clothes and hoped he would have time to have them brushed out. Then again, if Mr. Markham noted Rochester’s disheveled appearance, perhaps he’d attribute it to his agreeable response to the letter.

As he walked to the front door, where a butler awaited him, he brushed hopelessly at his riding breeches.

“You look a sight,” Evelyn greeted him in the foyer.

He grimaced. “That bad?”

She laughed, ran into his arms, and breathed him in. “Leather and horse, the best thing I’ve smelled all day.”

He looked about, wondering if a stolen kiss would go unnoticed, then thought better of it, putting an arm’s length between them before her father showed himself.

She looked behind her. “No one’s here.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I’d love a kiss.” She leaned into him and pressed a solitary kiss on his cheek, then rubbed her palm against it. “Night beard. I miss that.”

“Do you know why your father called me here?”

“I believe I do. But first, let Mr. Holcomb show you to a room, and I’ll see to some dinner. Father usually takes port and retires by nine, and it’s almost that time now.”

Rochester more than willingly took her advice because presentation was half the battle in his world. He washed up and changed into clean trousers, a nice silver embroidered waistcoat, and a dinner jacket of black superfine. He knew the house, so finding the dining room was easy enough. It was the not knowing where Markham was that rattled him now.

The butler pushed the doors open, and relief moved through him like good brandy when he saw that the only persons present were Evelyn and two footmen.

“I’m not certain how I prefer you. There’s something intriguingly masculine and sensual about a man who’s travel-worn from riding.”

“You look lovely, too, Goose. I’ve missed you in Mayfair. The house isn’t the same.” As if he had forgotten where he was, he looked over his shoulder.

“We’re alone. Would you like to seat me?”

“I’d like to do more than that,” he said, inches from her neck as he helped her sit. They sat across from each other, avoiding the dining chairs at the ends of the long table, so they could talk without shouting.

Turnip soup and braised beef never tasted so good.

“Are you going to make me wait all night? It’s torture enough sitting here alone with you and wondering if it shall be my last,” he said.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You like to say that, Goose. Now, tell me why I’m here.”

“I had a very frank discussion with Papa, and I believe he’s coming around. Although he did wonder why you hadn’t proposed yet.”

Rochester set his fork down and straightened. “Surely, you jest.”

She shook her head. “He asked rather accusatory if you must know.”

“That sounds more like it.”

“Also”—she put her utensils aside, keeping her gaze on her plate—“I may have told him a few things to encourage his agreement. I’m not certain it made him more agreeable, however, but it did clarify some matters.” She looked up under her lashes. “Would you care for a drink first?”

“Is it that bad?”

“I don’t think so.” She put a hand to her chest, looking hopeful. “I thought if he knew….”

She trailed off as Rochester began to understand the extent of her conversation with her father. “For the love of God, Evelyn, you told your father? Why would you do that?”

“I actually didn’t have to say a thing.”

“No, you didn’t.” He checked himself before shouting and bringing the house down around them.

She pulled her mouth in a line, clearly irritated. “Are you finished? Or do you plan on interrupting me after every third word?”

He sat back against the chair and flung a hand toward her before tucking it in the crook of his tightly crossed arms while he worked his jaw back and forth. His gaze darted over her face as he tried to hang on to his slipping patience.

“What I was trying to say is that my father already knew. He’d guessed before I ever said a thing. But I defended you.”

“You what?”

“Defended you.”

“You begged me. Did you tell him that?”

“Well, no. That would have been foolish by half.”

“Lovely, so now the man hates me even more.”

“I doubt it. He’s rather disappointed with me, not you, because I told him about the notes. The only saving moment was the twitch of a smile I saw. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long. In truth, Dalton, I think he likes you. He’s a man who’s lost control of his family. At least that’s what my godfather tells me, and I believe him.”

“The issue is not your father. It’s the information. What we’ve shared and what’s between us is ours. It doesn’t belong to anyone else. It’s personal. I can’t believe you told him, Evelyn.”

“Wait. You think I told my father we know each other in the biblical sense?” She started to laugh. “Oh, Dalton. I love you, you ridiculous man. I told him that you hid me away in your home, which truly he may come to his own conclusions on that accord, but not from my telling. However, to my detriment, and maybe yours, I did tell him that you took me to a prize fight.”

“Oh, God.” He placed a hand over his face. “That’s nearly as bad.”

“Papa knows what a challenge I am. He even told me so. I seriously don’t think he blames you. In fact, he’s grateful I didn’t break my neck climbing out of my window. He may thank you for that.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”

After the dishes were cleared and the footmen were busy, Evelyn leaned across the table as far as her seated position allowed. “I’ve no reason to hold my breath when you can take it away with a look, a kiss, a touch. Come to my room later.” Her voice was a husky whisper and very tempting.

He leaned in. “No.” He kept direct eye contact and emphasized the word slowly.

She sat back. “Coward.”

“Those are dueling words, Miss Markham.”

“I choose your rapier tongue, Mr. Rochester. You may thrash me with it repeatedly if you’d like.”

He grinned, and his pulse quickened until his body hurt. “Patience.”

“I’m running out.”

“I meant that for me.”

After their late dinner, he reluctantly left her at the top of the stairs, where the house split into two wings. She went one way and he the other.