How to Marry a Rogue (34 page)

“You must not gamble anymore. Or stay out all hours of the night with other women. And you must relinquish boxing, no matter how much you love it. I do not want you to injure yourself, because…because I need you.” One sandy eyebrow rose on his forehead, but he remained silent, waiting for her to continue. “And your child needs you.” She whispered this last, and dropped her head to his chest again.

He seemed frozen in place, and she feared he hadn’t heard her. She stepped back, hesitating before looking at his face, dreading his reaction.

“Tell me again, my love, for I fear you just told me we are going to be parents.”

She nodded uncertainly. “That is what I said.”

“But—I do not understand. Why is it so terrible?”

“Because…” She broke away this time, and crossed her arms over her chest, shivering in the cool night air. “I cannot pretend anymore, Jack. Not to Jonathan, or…or to you.” She drew a shuddering breath. “Especially to you.”

He frowned. “What are you pretending?”

“This…this marriage between us. I know I proposed the idea to you and you were friend enough to assist me, but…” Her lip trembled as she forced back her tears. “It doesn’t work. You were right, Jack.” She laughed shortly. “I never thought I would say you were right about anything! But the kisses, and sharing a bed…and seeing you as a man, not a friend…” She blushed through her stammering. “I don’t know how to explain it, but it changed our friendship, as you warned me it would. I laughed at you, but you were right, because…”

She stopped pacing. He walked to her and gripped her shoulders in his large hands.

“Just say it, Georgiana. I told you once, you can order me to do anything, and I will obey you.” He was smiling but wasn’t teasing her anymore. She sensed all humor from their youth had vanished between them, replaced with a new awareness and understanding.

“I do not wish to give you orders. I want you to feel it in your heart as I do.”

“I am listening.”

“It was always you.” The words rushed from her before she could stop them. “Even with…with Edward, my heart has always been yours.” She blinked rapidly, and he matter-of-factly brushed her tears with his fingertips. “I wanted to be your wife because I couldn’t bear the thought of being anyone else’s. At first, I thought it was because you had always rescued me in the past and could rescue me again. And…I know…” She couldn’t look into his eyes anymore. His expression had grown far too serious for Jack Waverley. “I know you married me to save your inheritance, and I admit I have enjoyed sharing a bed as part of our arrangement…”

The sob tore from her before she could stop it. Horrified, she stifled the next with her hand, but he pulled it away and replaced it with his lips.

She expected the kiss to end in a few moments, but he continued holding her, his lips drinking from hers as if she were his very sustenance. Her emotional outburst had exhausted her, and it was so comforting to be held in his strong embrace.

Gasping his name, she twined her fingers in his hair and tugged at his shirt with an overwhelming urge to feel his bare skin. He must have had the same urge, because he tugged at her bodice, pulling her gown past her shoulder until his lips burned the rising swell of her breasts.

“I love you, Jack.”

His head lifted, and he regarded her in the moonlight. The buzzing insects and noisy frogs were silent. His eyes glittered like falling stars.

“That’s all you’ve ever had to say, my little goose,” he finally said, stooping to slide one arm behind her knees and pick her up. “I share your feelings.”

“Then say it.”

“I’ve been saying it all along. You’ve just not heard me.”

She gazed into his eyes, her fears and doubts melting in the force of his love. “I hear you now.”

“It’s about bloody time.” He lifted her easily and carried her into the darkness.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Jack restrained himself from singing aloud as his carriage took him from Kensington to his set at the Albany. He never thought he’d be so ready to abandon his bachelor quarters for gentle domesticity, but the moment had finally arrived. He planned to take his most important papers and personal effects back to Georgiana’s home. His houseman would send the rest of his possessions to the new home he was happy to share with his bride.

The days since her revelation had passed in a blur. Jonathan and Sophie were ecstatic at the news; Jonathan, more so. Every time someone approached Jonathan at White’s, he was the first to blurt out Jack would soon be a father. Jack even tempted fate and sent word to his grandfather, announcing the blessed event. He was mildly surprised but pleased when the old man sent a heartfelt letter in return.

For the first time in his life, Jack was blissfully aware he had proven the world wrong. He was in love. He wanted to shower Georgiana with every bauble and trinket he could, but it was obvious she only wanted his company. He was happy to oblige her, and if a pulled groin muscle and bruised lips were the price he paid for marital bliss, he would happily pay it.

His houseman was surprisingly absent, but Jack didn’t mind. He whistled as he jogged upstairs to his drawing room. The door was ajar, and he heard the clinking of a glass against a crystal decanter.

“What the devil?” He stopped in his tracks and stared at his visitor.

Edward Mitford swallowed the finger of whiskey in his glass and gave Jack a half salute. “Hope you don’t mind, but I let myself in.”

The devious smile and narrow eyes had not changed much since they were schoolboys. Jack’s right thigh muscle twitched. He’d forgotten the small knife he always carried in his boot. The life he’d led had carried with it a certain element of danger he was glad to give up but now regretted giving it up so soon.

“Help yourself to a drink.”

“I did.” Mitford settled into Jack’s favorite chair.

“Let’s not bother with pleasantries, Eddie,” Jack said, purposely using the nickname the man detested. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Straight to the point, as always.” Mitford leaned his elbows on the arms of the chair. “First things first, Waverley. I must congratulate you on making a very fine match. A very fine match, indeed.”

Jack envisioned walking across the parlor and seizing the man about the throat and shaking him until his mocking eyes bulged out of his head. “I thank the Lord every day for the blessing that is my wife.”

Mitford’s mouth twisted in a gloating smile that made Jack queasy. “I know some of the pleasures you’re experiencing, Waverley. She was always a spirited girl. Especially where it counts.”

Though his jaw hurt from grinding his teeth, Jack walked to the window as casually as he could and fiddled with a loosened latch while he scanned the street below. Except for the broad-shouldered behemoth standing watch by what he presumed was Mitford’s carriage, there were few passersby. If he acted quickly, he could grab Mitford and dangle him out the window by his ankles until the wretch begged for mercy. Hell, he could even smash him to the pavement before the behemoth made it halfway up the stairs.

“Though I will not sink to your level, which would require me to dwell below the sewers of Cheapside, I will point out an obvious fact of which you are well aware. We both know Mrs. Waverley’s reputation was
intact
when I married her.” He couldn’t bring himself to speak her name in the cad’s presence.

“Oh, come now, Jack! We are both men of the world. Ladies may have
intact
reputations
but may still enjoy other pursuits that would leave no physical evidence of their occurring.”

Jack pictured Mitford’s eyes popping out of his skull the tighter he choked him. He wondered if the man would soil himself when the final moment came and had to shake his head to dispel his murderous thoughts.

“If you have a wish to die by my fists or pistol, say so now. I’m available at any hour or location of your choice. This conversation and your presence are exceedingly tiring and revolting.” He picked up a small bust of Plato and put it down again, realizing he was unconsciously considering hurling it through the front of Mitford’s head. Splattered brains all over his carpet would require an explanation to the servants.

“I did not come here to provoke you, Jack, though I’ve always enjoyed bandying words with you. The last we spoke was…when was it?”

Fire rose to his jaw, but he held his tongue. Mitford’s eyes widened, and Jack was reminded of the intensely charming, but always troubled younger man he’d known long ago.

“Ah, yes, you remember. I was up for the prize in Latin, which meant a well-placed position in the law. Someone—how the mind does fog a little with the onset of age—informed the master of my…proclivities. The prize went to someone else. Oh, yes, I do now recall who it was.” His voice rose. The dark eyes went darker still, and Jack stifled a shiver at the transformation.

“It was you, Jack.”

“You raped a coalman’s daughter. You didn’t deserve any sort of prize.”

Mitford’s lip curled. “She made up that lie because I would not marry her.”

“Your word against hers. And she sported a bruised cheek and bloodied nose. Not very usual for a woman in love.”

“Since when do you care about a servant?”

“Since when would any decent man allow a scum like you to debase another human being?”

He picked up the statue again. This time, he turned off the muttered warnings of his subconscious.

“I must say, Jack, your sense of honor has not wavered since you were a lad. You even married a woman of questionable reputation. Good for you.”

“There has never been a speck of inquiry against her. You’ve known her and her family as long as I have. Say it again, and you will come to know Signore Plato very well.” He hefted the bust.

“I apologize, then. Believe me; I did not come here with a mind to provoke you. Your reputation far exceeds my own when it comes to brawling and murderous rampage.”

“I can always hide your body. What’s one more bloated carcass dragged out of the Thames?”

“I thought you might say that.” Mitford looked too smug for Jack’s taste. “You probably noticed a very large brute standing outside. If I do not walk out of this structure in half an hour, he is to summon the authorities to look to you.” He clasped his arms in front of him. “Tell me, Jack—what would happen to
Mrs. Waverley
should you meet your demise at a hangman’s noose?”

Forcing slow, even breaths, Jack glared directly into Mitford’s eyes. “You have one second to explain your presence before I throw you out the nearest window, hangman be damned.”

“There is a child, Jack. A bonny little boy kept in a very safe place with a young woman who will do anything I request. She has signed a statement attesting the child was left to her care by a wealthy young lady who wished to remain anonymous.”

Jack snorted. “And you expect anyone to believe the child is Georgiana’s?”

“They won’t have to believe it, Jack. But the rumors and scandal it will cause her, Lockewood, his wife, and your old grandfather will be enough to censure them forever. Oh, the problems it will wreak with Jonathan’s place in society. He will never forgive his sister. And poor Georgiana!” He clucked his tongue. “She will be devastated by the knowledge her husband could have helped quiet a tiny scandal but chose not to.”

“What do you want?”

Mitford leaned back into the chair, settling his hands across his stomach. “I always took you for an intelligent man, despite being a snobbish brute. Five thousand pounds will ensure my lifestyle continues in the manner into which I’ve become accustomed.”

Jack erupted in laughter. “I wondered how you acquired your extravagant lifestyle. Attached yourself to a rich widow, have you? Some dowager duchess paying you beneath the bed skirt while you enrapture her with loving attention?” He shook his head with disgust. Mitford’s eyes hardened.

“My income is provided by someone close to you, Jack.” His smirk revealed his white, sharp teeth. “If you wish, you may take away his shame and worry. Being that you are such a loyal friend.”

“Even if I wanted to pay you, my inheritance is locked away until my grandfather dies. Can you wait another fifteen or so years? Waverleys are known to pass ninety.”

“Clever, Jack. Georgiana is sitting on a fortune. She won’t even miss it. You are her husband, and all her worth is tied to you. Besides, your generosity will take Lockewood off the hook with me.”

A rushing noise in his ears nearly knocked him over. “You have been blackmailing Lockewood? Over what matter?”

“Your brother-in-law ensures I do not remember his sister’s near-elopement with me. That, and other secrets he would rather his wife not know.”

“If I pay what you ask, what is to prevent you from making a similar request a month or two hence?”

“I will give you the statement, and you may do with it as you please. The bonny boy and his mother will continue their quiet, simple life out of the shadows of Kensington.” His eyebrows rose with a false expression of earnestness. “What is your wife’s comfort worth? Surely, you would not want her disturbed in her delicate condition. And Mrs. Lockewood must also be considered, Jack.” He shook his head. “I pity the effect such terrible news will have on two women newly introduced to the purity of motherhood.”

Before he could think, Jack seized Mitford by the lapels. To his credit, the man didn’t flinch. His face only an inch or two from Mitford’s, Jack had to restrain himself from strangling the bastard on the spot.

“What is it to be, Waverley?” Edward’s voice choked out.

Struggling with his emotions, Jack finally released him. He dragged his hand across his jaw as if he’d received a physical blow, when Mitford had not touched him.

“I will have the funds deposited in your account tomorrow. I trust you have the information somewhere on your person?”

“As fate would allow, yes.” Mitford removed a folded paper from inside his coat. “As soon as I am notified the funds are there I will deliver the statement to your club. I would not want it to fall into the wrong hands.”

“If you don’t have it, you’ll beg for death when I’m done with you.”