Marguerite Kaye - Scoundrel in the Regency Ballroom - The Rake and the Heiress / Innocent in the Sheikh's Harem

‘For God’s sake, what other terms can there be?’

‘We are both overwrought. You think I have deceived you, but I have not. I’m the same person I was when first we met. A title does not change who I am. I admit, I did not tell you the whole truth, but I did not lie to you. And as to what has happened between us—you have not broken your rules. Your conscience is clear, you did not take anything I was not willing to give, and thanks to the arrival of your tenant, I did not give you enough to be truly compromised.’ She managed a watery smile.

Her willingness to absolve him from the blame he suspected he deserved melted Nicholas’s anger, leaving him feeling strangely empty. He saw she was making a valiant attempt not to cry, and felt guilt perch like a brooding raven on his shoulder. ‘Go and pack,’ he said gruffly, struggling to resist the desire to pull her back into his arms. ‘I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow.’

‘Don’t be foolish, Nicholas. I’ll hire a chaise. I won’t be more than a night on the road.’

‘It is you who are being foolish. It’s too dangerous for you to travel alone with only your snoring Madame for company, and Charles told me yesterday that I’m no longer persona non grata in London, since my duelling opponent is well on the road to recovery.’

Serena coloured. ‘Madame LeClerc is gone ahead of me.’

‘Then that settles it. There have been a spate of robberies on the London road. A highwayman, Hughes says. It’s not safe.’

‘I’ll hire some outriders,’ Serena said stubbornly.

‘Serena, I insist. If you don’t agree, I’ll simply make sure you can’t hire your own chaise in the village. One of the advantages of being the local landowner.’

‘That’s not fair. Nicholas, it’s better if you don’t, really…’

He took hold of her hand between his own. ‘I could not be happy with you travelling alone. Indulge me in this. We both need time to order our thoughts, and I to cool my temper. You are right, we should not part on such terms. We deserve better.’

Her conscience warred with her desires, and her desires won. She could not resist the temptation of a few more days of his company. ‘Very well.’ Refusing his escort on the grounds that he too must attend to his packing, Serena departed Knightswood Hall.

It was only when she had gone that he realised she had still offered him no explanation for her willingness to make love to him.

The air in the public room of the King’s Arms, the tavern owned by the legendary heavyweight Thomas Cribb, was stifling. Acrid wood smoke from the roaring fire hung heavy, despite the grimy windows flung open wide to the street. The pungent aroma of unwashed human bodies mingled with the smell of spilt ale and cheap spirits.

Jasper Lytton paused on the threshold, wearing the habitual sneer that marred the handsome lines of his countenance. Of late the place had become overrun with the hoi polloi , so much so that even the distinction of being invited to partake of daffy within the sanctity of Cribb’s own private parlour was become a dubious pleasure. He raised his quizzing glass to survey the room. From the window embrasure a thin man beckoned with a long white finger. Jasper joined him reluctantly.

‘I th-thought you weren’t going to turn up, Jasper. I’ve been here an age.’ The man spoke with a slight stammer. He was young and elegantly dressed, but dissipation was already taking a heavy toll, thinning his hair, etching a deep groove on either side of his mouth. The pale eyes were bloodshot. His hand shook as he reached for the decanter to top up his glass, filling Jasper’s at the same time.

‘God, Langton, you look like hell.’ Jasper lolled on the hard wooden seat, watching his friend’s hand tremble with malicious pleasure. Though Langton could give him at least five years, and he himself drank harder and gamed deeper, no one would take Jasper for the senior man.

‘S-so would you, in my position. Well, do you have it?’

Jasper shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to meet the other man’s gaze. ‘No, not yet.’

‘You promised! I need it back immediately. If I d-don’t have it—God, you know what these people are like.’

‘Only too well, I introduced you to them myself, remember?’ Watching his friend gulp down the fiery liquid, Jasper felt a minute twinge of guilt. It wasn’t as if the five thousand he owed Langton was such a great sum, but it was a debt of honour. Introducing Hugo Langton to his own moneylender of choice had been intended as a stalling tactic, nothing more. Carefully reaching into his jacket pocket, Jasper withdrew a small roll of notes. ‘There’s two hundred here on account. I’ll get the rest soon. I just need a run of luck.’

‘Or your cousin to bail you out,’ Langton muttered, snatching at the money.

Jasper’s smile hardened. ‘That’s unlikely. Nicholas made it perfectly clear that he wouldn’t be towing me out of the River Tick again.’ The bitter memory of that last uncomfortable interview with his cousin still rankled. Why couldn’t Nicholas see that paying off Jasper’s debts for him was simply advancing money that would be rightfully his in the very near future anyway?

‘How long is it now until the great day?’

‘Less than three months.’ He’d be lucky to hold his creditors at bay that long. There were bailiffs at his lodgings. Duns at his club. Damn Nicholas, why was he making him wait?

Across the table Langton emptied the dregs of the decanter into his glass. His hand no longer shook. The rough liquor gave him courage. When he spoke his voice was free from its stammer. ‘Three months, and you’ll be a rich man—provided your cousin doesn’t get leg-shackled in the meantime.’

Jasper’s thin lips tightened. Waving an imperious hand at the beleaguered landlord for more brandy, he quelled the panic that threatened to overwhelm him every time he thought of the consequences were his cousin suddenly to announce his nuptials. ‘He wouldn’t do that,’ he said grimly.

The fierce look that he drew forced Langton to cower back in his seat, all thoughts of teasing banished. ‘If you s-say so. I merely thought…’

‘What have you heard?’ Jasper asked sharply.

‘Just a rumour. Came from Charles Avesbury, if you must know.’

‘Avesbury,’ Jasper exclaimed. ‘He said Nicholas was to be married?’

‘Well, not as such. But he did see the lady in question. Said the two of them were smelling of April and May.’

Jasper scowled. ‘We’ll see about that.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘Never you mind.’ Jasper pushed back his chair. ‘I have business to attend to.’ Swatting the landlord’s arm from his shoulder, Jasper indicated, with a careless nod of the head, that the new decanter was Langton’s responsibility. Without a backward glance he strode for the door of the inn, casually kicking a flea-bitten terrier from under his feet.

‘Business,’Langton mused, pouring himself another glass of brandy. ‘Dirty business, if I’m any judge.’

At mid-morning the next day Nicholas’s travelling chaise and four arrived outside Serena’s lodgings. After a curt greeting, he stood by the chaise, watching as she supervised the loading of her luggage, admiring the graceful figure she cut in her woollen travelling cloak, the gold of her hair glinting under a poke bonnet.

Yet another sleepless night had taken its toll on Serena’s mood. She had expected Nicholas to be angry, but had not anticipated he would feel quite so betrayed. Castigating herself for not having been truthful with him from the start only served to make her feel worse, however, for she could not ignore the fact that only by doing so had she come to know him so intimately.