Rules to Catch a Devilish Duke (39 page)

Adam clenched his fists, every ounce of the past days’ frustration pushing him to flatten the marquis. Slowly, though, taking deep breaths, he forced his fists to uncurl. If today was the day for him to pay for all of his prior sins, he wanted to get on with it so he could have a damned conversation with the woman he loved. The man before him seemed a rather appropriate place to begin cleaning his slate. “What do you want me to say, Oliver?” he asked, keeping his voice as level and reasonable as he could manage. “Do you want a confession of my sins? The ones committed against her, or against you?”

“That’s a start,” the marquis returned, folding his arms over his chest.

“You’re no angel, either.”

“I’m not trying to stop a vicar’s wedding. Or play with an unfortunate young lady’s life. So explain yourself. To my satisfaction, or I’ll put every roadblock in front of you that I can manage.”

“So you want her to marry the Reverend Loines?”

“No, I don’t. I don’t want to see her facing worse than that from you, either. You wanted her to be your mistress. She told me that. That might be handy for you, but Sophia has a roof over her head and a means to earn an income all without you.”

“Not if Hennessy closes you down,” Adam retorted, deciding against admitting—for the moment, anyway—that he’d seen to that part of the problem.

“I’m willing to risk that, as is Diane.” Haybury leaned against the door frame, the very image of an immovable, and formidable, rival.

“But Sophia isn’t willing to risk the club. She knows how much it means to you and her friends.” Adam blew out his breath. “What do you want from me, Oliver? A confession? Very well. Yes. I cheated you that night at faro. I bribed the dealer to change the banker’s cards in order to ensure that you would lose.”

Oliver stalked down the stairs, his lean face pale and the line of his jaw hard. “I am supremely aware of that. But do you have any idea what you did to me that night? My uncle had cut me off, and I was attempting to win enough blunt to live off of. Thanks to you, I had to leave England for Vienna.”

“Where you met Diane Benchley, I believe.”

“Beside the point,” Oliver said brusquely. “We were damned friends. Or I thought we were. And you didn’t need the bloody money. Why? Why would you do that to me?”

For a long moment Adam looked down at the floor. Even after nearly six years, he could still hear the anger in Haybury’s voice. He’d done that. And he’d done a great many other things that were less than heroic. Oliver was correct: he needed to make amends for his ill deeds before he could be allowed a … a happy ending. “You won’t believe me, but I was trying to help.”

“‘Trying to help’?” the marquis repeated, his voice a growl. “By ruining me?”

“No. You were … so damned arrogant, Oliver. I thought if I removed the choice, you would have to reconcile with your uncle. I thought I was helping.” He blew out his breath. “I had no blasted idea that you would choose to leave England rather than apologize for being an ass. And by the time I realized you were gone … well, you wouldn’t have taken money from me anyway, after that night.”

“Unbelievable,” Haybury muttered, glaring at him. “Did I somewhere go mad and ask for your intervention? Did you ask if you could help?”

“No. That’s why I thought it was a good deed.” Adam shrugged. “I know what I did. All I can do now is apologize. You knew I wasn’t a nice man. I saw something, and I took action. Evidently that was more significant to me than the actual results.”

For a moment he reflected that he might have been using this same dialogue to speak with Sophia. For Lucifer’s sake, he’d been a blind, arrogant fool. And for years he’d been so. It had taken a slip of a scandalous chit to make him finally look at himself. And he hoped to God it wasn’t too late for him to be a … a better man.

For a long moment Oliver looked at him. “Evidently we’re both stubborn, arrogant bastards,” he finally muttered. “Sophia. Explain.”

“Thank you,” Adam said, actually surprised that he was being given the chance to continue.

“Don’t thank me yet. All I know is that you suggested she become your mistress, and she turned you down. What are you doing here, then? And what am I doing here? Surely you’ve been rejected at least once prior to this.”

“Actually, no, I haven’t been. But I’d prefer to have that discussion with Sophia.”

“Me first.”

Damnation
. Did Haybury want to see his exposed, shriveled heart, as well? “I wanted her with me, and asking her to be my mistress seemed the most expedient way to accomplish that.”

“Ah. So it was all about efficiency. A shame you didn’t take into account the fact that she doesn’t want anyone else to be responsible for her life or her safety. And a shame you thought you could charm her into doing what you wanted.”

Adam frowned. “I didn’t try to charm her into anything. We became friends. I like her company. I didn’t want her to leave at the end of the holiday. I’m required to marry by my thirtieth birthday—which is barely a month away, you may recall—and so I chose what seemed like the most logical way to keep her about.”

“If I theoretically accept this explanation of yours, why should I let you see her now? So you can ask her again? As atrocious as I consider this match with Loines to be, it does give her a measure of respectability. Being your mistress would not.”

“Because I have…”—the scent of lemons touched his nostrils, and his heart stumbled—“a different offer for her. But I’m not discussing that with you.” It took every ounce of self-discipline he owned to keep from turning around, but he stayed precisely where he was. “I will give you my word that if she turns me away or rejects my plan, I’ll go. Without protest. And she can do whatever she feels is necessary to make her way in the world.”

Oliver glanced beyond his shoulder, then nodded. “You have five minutes. In this room. And I’ll be directly outside the door. I might even be listening to your conversation.” Haybury turned around, then paused and looked back again. “And I want your horse. Zeus. Then I might begin to forgive you.”

“You … Very well. He’s yours.”

Still not turning around, Adam watched the Marquis of Haybury retreat up the narrow stairs again and shut the door. Then, closing his eyes for just a moment and sending up a quick prayer that he hadn’t ruined things so thoroughly that she would never listen to him or trust anything he said, he turned around.

Sophia gazed at the Duke of Greaves. Even though Haybury had never told her who’d written him the pair of notes, she’d had her suspicions. But then the preparations for the wedding kept proceeding, and while the marquis had been sympathetic, he hadn’t done anything to stand in her way. She’d begun to think that perhaps it had been Cammy who’d sent the letters, and that Oliver Warren was there only to be certain that she was going into this marriage without any illusions as to what she faced.

But now Adam was standing five feet away from her, his gray eyes gazing at her squarely, his fingers clenching and unclenching as if he wanted to grab her. And he looked tired, she decided, his lean face taut and serious. She likely looked very much the same.

“Sophia,” he murmured, taking a step toward her.

“No. Stop,” she ordered, backing away. If they touched, she wouldn’t be able to stand it. Resolving to do the right things was killing her as it was. Adding him into the mix would tear her to pieces. Just seeing him again was too much.

He froze, lowering the hand he’d raised. “Very well. May I speak?”

“About what?”

Adam cleared his throat. “First of all, I spoke with Hennessy. Whatever you may decide today, The Tantalus Club is safe. I swear it. You do not
have
to marry … anyone.”

The world seemed to turn white and misty. Dimly she felt Adam’s arms go around her, then the dizzy sensation of being lifted. A moment later color and sound began to return, and she blinked. Somehow he’d carried her to one of the two large chairs in front of the fireplace and set her gently down. He squatted by one arm, looking up at her.

“I don’t have to marry him,” she stammered, putting her hands over her face. “I can go back to the Tantalus?”

He stood again, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “Yes, you can. Or you could take a third path.”

Everything had begun moving too fast for her to keep up. But if he hadn’t accepted the answer she’d left for him at Greaves Park, if he truly didn’t understand how badly he’d insulted her, she would explain it to him. “I don’t want to hear you reargue your same points again,” she stated, lowering her hands again to clench them in her lap.

“I don’t mean to do so.”

“If you’re here, then I think you do. I told you that I fought for my entire life to make a place for myself, and firstly you wanted me to turn my back on all my friends—my family—at the club, and secondly you wanted for me to … run away from a husband and live hidden and in scandal somewhere. Thank you for saving me from this. Truly. But for the last time, I do not wish to be your mistress, Adam. I don’t want part of you. I don’t want to give up what I have, what I am, in exchange for … nothing.”

“I know that.”

She slammed her fist into her thigh, though that was a poor substitute for wanting to hit him or a wall or something. Anything, because physical pain couldn’t be any worse than the ache in her chest. “Then why could you ever ask me such a thing?”

“Because I couldn’t see any other way to keep you in my life.” He scowled. “No one could see any other reason why you and I would be together, and I … couldn’t explain what I wanted, even to myself. It was wrong and selfish.”

“Thank you. I accept your apology.” A tear ran down her cheek, but she ignored it. “I wish we could have ended this on better terms. Now, I need to go pack my things so I can return to London with Haybury. Good day.” Standing, she turned her back on him.

“I need to marry, Sophia. You know that.”

“Of course I do. And I wish you well, Adam. But please don’t come see me again. Don’t visit the Tantalus. I don’t … I wish I’d never met you.”

He made a sound, deep in his chest. It wrenched at her, but for heaven’s sake, how much was she supposed to stand there and take from him? She grabbed onto the stair railing and climbed the first step.

“Give me another minute, Sophia. Please.”

Please.
She didn’t think she’d ever heard him use that word before. Despite the fact that she knew better, somewhere deep inside what was left of her heart she wanted to hear him say something that restored her faith in him, that proved she hadn’t just been an idiot to fall in love with him. Slowly she lowered her hand. “This is not a children’s tale. We had a lovely holiday, and now it’s over with. Stop making it worse.”

“Look at me.”

Even more reluctantly she turned around and descended into the room again. “Don’t make me yell and throw things, Adam,” she whispered. “And don’t make me hate you.”

He swallowed visibly, actually looking nervous for the first time. It struck her forcefully; this powerful, wealthy man whom everyone respected and most people feared, standing in a ramshackle inn’s public room and hesitating to speak to her, of all people. Slowly he took one step forward.

“You are quite possibly the best person I have ever met, Sophia White. All the nonsense that’s been thrown at you simply for being born, and you’ve stood on your own two feet and laughed at the world. I … adore you for that. And I should have told you so long before now.”

The door opened above and behind her. “Your five minutes are—”

Sophia whipped her head around. “Five more minutes,” she stated, glaring at her employer’s husband until he nodded and shut the door again. Hopefully he wouldn’t hold it against her later. She certainly needed her job at The Tantalus Club, now more than ever. But she wasn’t about to allow Adam to stop speaking now. “Go on. You adore me.”

His lips twitched. “I fiercely adore you. But this is about me, too.” Adam cleared his throat. “You know I worry that I’m becoming more and more like my father. Eustace made me so damned angry with her gifts to you and the assumptions everyone had, and so I think I just … surrendered. If they all considered me to be just like him, then at least I would have you. At least a little.”

“I understand.” She shook herself, trying to escape the sensation of being warm and surrounded and safe again. “And I think you just saved my life. But I can’t be your friend. Not knowing that you have a wife and will have a family. I just can’t, Adam.”

“This is
my
confession,” he stated, tilting his head. “So listen. When you refused me and left, something dawned on me. I didn’t need those people around me reminding me of who I was or what I wasn’t. I didn’t need a party to save me from keeping my own company. All I needed was a friend to remind me of who I wanted to be.”

“You only have a few weeks left, Adam,” she returned, attempting to be reasonable. “If you did something rash, you need to go apologize to Lady Caroline, not to me. I know you liked her. She’ll do well for you. Please tell me you didn’t just leave them all at Greaves Park and ride all the way to Cornwall when you have your own future to save.”

“No, I didn’t leave them all behind. I kicked them all out on their collective fat arses.”

Sophia blinked. “But Camille! And Keating. You didn’t—”

“I made an exception for seven of them. Drymes, and the ones who were with you in the billiards room. You liked them. I let them stay. And they’ll be the only ones I invite back next year.”

Oh, goodness.
She certainly hadn’t expected that, of all things. “Then at least you didn’t destroy things with Caroline. What of your sister?” None of it was her concern any longer, but she couldn’t help wanting to know. Wanting to hear his voice, to see him so close by her.

“I won’t be seeing Eustace again. She can be consumed with a family name she doesn’t even bear anymore somewhere far away from me.”

“I’m sorry you’ve lost your family,” she returned, “but I’m glad she won’t be about to hurt you any longer. All the more reason for you to set your attention on marrying Caroline.”

“I’m not marrying Caroline!” he said forcefully, then drew a breath. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to yell, but you’re driving me mad.” He took another step closer. “I’ve never been as happy as I was when I was with you, you know. I would like that again. Very much.”