How to Marry a Rogue (35 page)

“Funny. Those are the same words Lockewood said when he found us at Gretna Green. Pity he didn’t arrive an hour later. Georgiana was nearly panting in her state to remove her clothes.”

Jack opened the door, almost ready to shove Mitford onto the landing below. “Unlike where my brother-in-law is concerned, mine is not a threat. Jonathan should have beaten you. I’d have killed you.”

“Unfortunately for Georgiana her brother was too much of a gentleman.”

Jack’s hand clenched before he almost realized it. His bicep tensed as he drew back his arm and slammed his fist into Mitford’s nose. He gave a satisfied grunt at the squishing sensation as his knuckles crushed the cartilage. Mitford doubled over, clutching his face while blood rapidly stained his ivory waistcoat. Jack flexed his fingers.

“Unfortunately for you, I am not.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Jack had not returned home. At first, Georgiana thought friends or business had detained him, but it was unlike him not to send word, especially if he knew she was expecting him. She walked restlessly around her bedchamber, straightening the drapes for the tenth time. When he hadn’t appeared the first night, she put it down to his being busy. The next night she feared he was lying in a dark alley somewhere. Three nights later and still no sign of him could only mean one thing.

She sipped a cold cup of tea she’d forgotten earlier. Her body felt as if elephants had trampled her into the ground, leaving only her skeleton to walk the earth. Every sound or knock on the doors downstairs made her jump, but it was only a delivery or a servant coming and going.

She left her chamber and walked listlessly to the parlor. Her worst nightmare had come true. Their recent admission of love had been all on her side, as she’d feared. She had to know the truth, even if it killed her. The not knowing was the worst part. To hear him tell her he didn’t love her was better than not knowing his mind at all. If he didn’t come soon, she would go to the Albany herself in the morning and confront him.

Her butler appeared in the doorway and announced Jonathan’s arrival. Almost giddy with relief for a familiar face, she met him in the doorway before he removed his hat. One look at his scowl made her heart stop.

“Are Sophie and the baby well? You do not bring bad news, I hope?”

Jonathan paced the floor while a servant brought in the teacart. “All is well at my house. I wish I could say the same here.”

Georgiana felt a sudden urge to rub her throat. “What do you mean?”

“How did five thousand pounds vanish from your account?”

Had he shouted, the words could not have echoed more loudly in her ears. She had to force herself to remain upright rather than cower in the presence of his barely controlled rage.

“I haven’t the slightest idea.” She fought the icy flow of panic rising within her. “There must be a mistake. Banks make mistakes all the time.” Jack had sworn off gambling, but even if he had returned to his old ways, it was not like him to take her money when he never had before.

“The Bank of England does not make mistakes.” He leveled his gaze. “Where is Jack?”

“Jack?” She gripped the back of a chair to stop the room from spinning.

He snorted. “Yes, Jack. My best friend who is now your husband. The man who beguiled you and stole your innocence.”

Her anger rose to his level. “He has stolen nothing. He wouldn’t take the money, Jonathan. He and I…” Now would come the explanation that sounded so preposterous when she spoke it aloud.

“He and you what?”

“We…I…there’s an agreement between us.” If a blush could burn her skin and leave a mark, she feared a blotch on her face would appear any moment.

“An agreement.”

She took his hand and kissed it. His fingers were stiff. “Please, dear brother, do not worry. He assured me he would never touch my money. He receives money from his grandfather. He promised to give up gambling and…” She chewed her lip. Perhaps it would be best if she didn’t mention his former paramours. Her chest rose with a shaky breath. “If Jack did take the money, I’m sure it was for a good reason.”

“He was seen last night in a rather unsavory gambling hell, as well as associating with the sort of people you’d rather know nothing about.” She must have paled, because his face softened. He brushed a kiss across her forehead. “When do you expect him home?”

Unable to admit she hadn’t heard from him, she turned her attention to the pot of tea, pouring two cups with a trembling hand. “He should be home shortly.”

“I inquired of your butler, and he told me Jack hasn’t been here in nearly three days.”

She turned on him, though it was more from her own self-loathing than anger toward him. “That was not your place to do so! I am not a child, Jonathan, and you are no longer my guardian.”

“Fine.” He strode to the door and paused in the entry. “However, you are still my sister, and apparently, I am your only protector. I will make some inquiries. If Jack is up to no good, he will answer for it.”

She clasped her hands, but they continued to tremble. A shiver began in her shoulders and coursed through her, rattling her bones. A look she had never seen before in her brother’s eyes filled her with dread. She swallowed to moisten her tight throat.

“What are you going to do, Jonathan? Call him out?”

“For my sister’s honor and that of her unborn child, yes.” He stormed out of the room before she could beg him to change his mind.

****

Someone had stuffed cotton in his mouth. Try as he might to spit it out, it remained there. Sitting up in bed, Jack glanced around his room, trying to remember how he’d gotten home the night before.

A cool hand stroked his brow, and he blinked to clear the lingering traces of fog in his head.

“Look who’s alive! My, but you gave me a scare, Jack.”

“Sarah?” In a flash, he remembered seeing her at the Haymarket. Had they gone to supper afterwards? He fumbled beneath the coverlet and discovered to his relief he was still fully clothed. “What are you doing here?”

“I came by this morning to reassure myself you were still alive. I’ve never known you to drink until you couldn’t stand.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, almost prim in her posture. If he hadn’t known she was the scandalous lady of the stage with not two, but three lovers in the House of Lords and a rumored husband no one had ever seen, he would have thought her a charitable society dame come to look in on a degenerate.

Slowly and painfully, the events from the past few days came back to him. Requesting Mitford’s fee from the bank. Sitting at the first open table he found at the Cocoa Tree in order to win it back. Losing all he had with new debts to boot. Unable to return to Georgiana, he stumbled into the theatre as if a past memory had urged him. He must have gone to Sarah’s dressing room afterwards and vaguely remembered sharing a coach with her, but there his memory ended.

He kicked his legs over the side of the bed. “I must get up. What time is it?”

“Almost noon. Are you certain you’re not ill? Shall I summon a doctor?”

He brushed her hand away, following with a smile so as not to hurt her feelings. “I do not need a doctor. Thank you for coming. I shall be all right.”

“I can make you something to eat. I have not forgotten my domestic skills.”

He regarded her silk gown with matching pelisse and fur-trimmed collar. Diamond ear-bobs gleamed beneath her shining black hair. “You’ve done well for yourself, Sarah. You’re a rich, successful woman. I hardly recognize the skinny chit on the stage, pouring out her heart for a few guineas a night.”

She toyed with the satin trim on the coverlet. “It’s been a long time in coming, Jack. Tell me…” Her dark blue eyes gazed into his. “Do you need any assistance? I heard you lost at Lord Wrothingham’s table last night. I can make a loan to you.”

He winced at the sudden pounding in his head. “I do not need any money, least of all, yours.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you. As an old friend…”

He leaned on his dressing table and stared at his haggard face. His eyes were bloodshot and heavy-lidded, and a mysterious bruise stained his jaw. “As my friend, Sarah, I beg you to stop worrying. All is well.”

“I have a right to worry about you. If you are in any trouble…” She pressed her hand to her heart. “You are in trouble, aren’t you?”

“Sarah, it’s good of you to stop by, but I do not need your help. I don’t need anybody’s help. I’ll figure this out for myself.”

She rose from the bed and walked to the door. “Do you know what your problem is?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“You refuse to let anyone in, Jack. So many people care about you, yet you can turn your back on them in an instant.” She snapped her fingers. “I know you are a caring, wonderful man, and yet…”

“You shared my bed years ago, Sarah. Forgive me, but that does not make you an authority on my life.” His words hung heavily in the air. He regretted them the moment he spoke, but could not take them back.

She stared at him, giving him the same look he recognized from her performance as Lady Macbeth. “I know you better than you do. Tell me, Jack: is it blackmail or an error in enterprise to blame for your downfall?”

“Why must it be either?”

“Because you and I move in the same low circles, my dear. I was dining out before the play last night and overheard a man boast how he’d taken down his most hated enemy. Can you guess who this was?”

He heaved a sigh. “I have many enemies. One cannot seduce married women or clean out a gaming table without garnering a few enemies.”

But she wouldn’t be swayed. Were it not for the way she worried the doorknob between her fingers he’d have thought her as calm as a parson.

“It was Edward.”

He did not respond. After a few moments of silence, she nodded briefly. “I’m going to send for tea, and then I’ll let myself out.”

She left him gazing at his reflection, though he no longer saw his face. Georgiana’s trusting eyes were all he could see. He dropped his head, too wracked with shame to think on her. How would he ever face her again? How could he ask her forgiveness? He’d betrayed her as Lockewood predicted he would. Worse, he’d done the very thing he’d sworn never to do. The same thing Mitford had done.

Taken her trust and cast it aside.

“Jack?”

He knuckled his eyes fiercely in the hopes when he was finished he would recognize the man in the mirror. “I’ll be right there, Sarah. Give me a minute.”

There was a pause. “I’m not Sarah.”

He turned slowly to face his wife.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Georgiana struggled to see through the cold mist that threatened to suffocate her. The man before her could not be Jack, his face bruised, his linen rumpled. She’d been shocked when Mrs. Leister wordlessly showed her into the parlor. At first, she thought she had the wrong address, but the woman’s nod of recognition assured her she was in the right place.

Despite his promise to give up his vices, it was obviously another lie in an apparent string of them. If Jonathan had not discovered the truth, how long would she have remained in the dark? Until all her money had vanished, presumably gone toward gambling and other women?

“Good day, Mrs. Waverley,” Mrs. Leister said, as politely as if they had met at a garden party. “I’ll be leaving, then.” She stepped past Georgiana and went downstairs without looking back.

Jack stared at Georgiana. She hardly recognized him with his bruised jaw and dark patches beneath his eyes, whether from fighting or lack of sleep, she couldn’t tell. His hair hung about his face in lank strands. But it was his eyes that made her wonder if she were really looking at the man to whom she’d so recently committed her heart. Dark and red-rimmed, they looked nothing like Jack’s eyes.

“Would you care for a drink?” His voice cracked.

She gripped the edges of her skirt so tightly her hands were numb. “No.”

“That was…”

“I know who she is. Jonathan introduced us at the masque.”

He stared at her in silence for a few seconds. “You didn’t tell me that before.”

“I didn’t think it important. At the time.” She was inanely proud of herself for her steady voice and dry eyes. “I am here about an entirely different matter.”

He poured himself a glass of brandy and drained it in one gulp. He didn’t even bother to offer further explanation of his sorry state or his absence from her home. A small part of her felt she no longer cared.

“What is it then?”

“Five thousand pounds.”

He set the glass on the table and gripped the edges, his shoulders hunched over. “Let me guess—your brother poked his nose into your business.”

She refused to let her temper control her. “Someone needs to look after my affairs.” Her voice sounded foreign, as if she weren’t used to speaking. “Apparently, you are too occupied with your own. You promised you’d given up fighting and gambling, and…” She stopped before her voice threatened to shake from the force of her feelings. “And women like that tart who just skipped out of here. I suppose you’ll say the dark shadow on your face is smudged dirt, and not a bruise.”

“It isn’t what you think.” He turned around and fumbled with his shirt in an attempt to make himself look presentable. She crossed her arms to stop them from shaking.

“You have no idea what I think, Jack Waverley.”

“Trust me, my dear, you have the wrong idea.”

His betrayal nearly rocked her off balance, but she maintained her composure. Her gaze flickered to the open bedchamber door. “Had I come a half hour ago, I’m sure I’d have proven those words lies. Fortunately, I was detained by my brother’s arrival.”

He muttered a curse and set his hands on his hips. “I’ve no wish to quarrel, Georgiana. Sarah is not a tart…well,” he flushed, “she is, but we do not have that sort of relationship. She’s been a friend of mine for years. Were actresses part of your acquaintance, I’d have introduced you long ago.”

“You seem to have a penchant for acquiring female friends, Jack. Was I not also your friend?”

In the past, he’d have laughed at her accusation and kissed her fears away. A shadow crossed his face, making him look older, sadder. “I have loved you all my life, Georgiana. And not only as a friend.”