The Widow Wager (20 page)

She stepped back and pushed her chemise back into her waist, and then pulled her gown up. “Now fasten me,” she ordered.

He chuckled as he turned her back to him and curled his body around hers, perhaps a bit more gently than he would have fifteen minutes before.

“I like you unfastened,” he whispered, close to her ear.

A shiver she could not control worked through her. “Do you now?”

“I could…” He trailed off and she peeked at him over her shoulder. He was suddenly frowning.

“You could?”

He shook his head. “I got distracted, I forgot something. Here, step forward a bit and I’ll fasten you.”

Her heart sank. He’d wanted her, that much was clear from everything about his touch, including the bump of his erection against her backside. But something had stopped him and she was a little afraid of what.

He hooked her gown slowly. “Have you made an appointment with the dressmaker?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “No. But considering our conversation yesterday about the current state of our finances, perhaps I should wait to—”

“Gemma!” He turned her to face him. “You don’t have to fix things with me like you did with your father. I told you yesterday, I want you to get new gowns. It will please me to see you in pretty things, things that make you feel good. Buy a Season’s worth.”

She examined his face, lined with worry and embarrassment in that moment. She reached up reflexively and smoothed his cheek, as if she could stroke the pain away even though she knew she couldn’t. He wouldn’t let her help at all.

“I will,” she promised, “if it would make you happy.”

He seemed startled by her response and he stepped away from her, granting her space for the first time since he entered the room. He shifted as if uncomfortable and then said, “I have something to tell you.”

She clenched her hands in front of her and nodded. “Yes?”

His pinched expression made her heart leap a little. What was wrong?

“Your father is here,” he said.

She let out a little cry and rushed toward the door. “Why didn’t you tell me? We should have gone done straight away to—”

He held out a hand, blocking her from exiting the dressing room and gathered her into his arms. “Gemma, take a breath.”

She struggled. “I don’t want to take a breath, I need to go down before he—”

“Before he what, angel?” Crispin soothed gently. “He no longer has power over you, Gemma. You don’t have to jump for him. You don’t have to run for him. He has been sitting in our parlor for half an hour, I hope cooling himself off. He will be fine waiting a moment longer.”

She stared up at him. “You don’t understand,” she whispered, hating how broken her voice sounded. “He has power over Mary. And if I don’t jump, he’ll punish
her
for it.”

Crispin shook his head. “The moment we have her safe, I swear I’m going to—”

“To do nothing,” Gemma said, grasping one of his hands. “You will do nothing because his good graces and boons are always removable.”

Crispin’s face was suddenly and quite shockingly
sad
. “You deserve so much better than him. Than me.” Her lips parted, but before she could reply, he took her arm. “Come. Let us not bargain with his good graces again, shall we?”

She followed his lead, but could not help feeling that this conversation had been one of the most unsatisfying she’d ever had. In every way.

When they entered the parlor Crispin found Sir Oswald exactly where he had expected him to be, standing at the sideboard, guzzling Crispin’s best liquor. And despite the early hour of the day, Crispin desperately wanted to join him. But given that Mary was not with her father, he refrained.

He’d known Gemma’s sister had not come with Sir Oswald, and he didn’t have to look at his new bride to recognize she was as concerned by that fact as he was.

“Father,” Gemma said, her tone icy even as she moved to press a brief kiss on his cheek. “How nice to see you.”

Crispin smothered a smile. His Gemma was not hard to read. She didn’t seem capable of hiding her emotions.

His Gemma
. What a foolish thought. She wasn’t his except by law. He had to recall that whenever his mind took him to stupid places. Betraying places.

“Quinn,” he said, his voice as cold as hers. “To what do we owe this surprise?”

“You kept me waiting half an hour,” he snapped, addressing Gemma with a glare.

She shifted. “You did not send word ahead, Father. We had no idea you were coming, and we were still preparing for our day.”

He sniffed. “Taking to the life of leisure already, I can see.”

Crispin stepped forward. “The blame is mine, Sir Oswald. I interrupted your daughter’s toilette and—”

Sir Oswald’s face twisted in what appeared to be disgust. “Well, don’t think you’re going to get her with child,” he snapped with a glare in her direction. “She’s barren. Might not have been entirely honest with that fact, but the deed is done now, isn’t it?” He chuckled.

It was the laugh that made a red veil of anger fall over Crispin’s eyes. The way Gemma flinched didn’t help, the way her father seemed to enjoy the flinch.

“You bast—” he began, lunging for him.

Gemma caught his arm, holding him back as she elevated her voice and talked over him. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your arrival, Father?”

He grinned once more at Crispin, a look that made Crispin want to knock each and every one of his teeth from his skull, before he said, “I’ve been thinking of the offer made by Hartholm and his duchess.”

Gemma released his arm and stepped forward, her hope too clear on her face. Crispin wished he could freeze her father in his spot and whisper to her not to reveal too much. It was obvious the bastard who had raised her would take advantage of her love for Mary, of Gemma’s desire to save her.

“Have you?” he said, keeping his own tone bland even as he reached for her hand and pulled her back a fraction. When she looked at him, he met her eyes and prayed she could see the message there. It seemed she did, for she also suddenly took on an affected air of disinterest.

“Yes,” Sir Oswald said. “It seems as though my beloved youngest would be in good hands if I agreed to allow them to sponsor her. And the offer of compensation for being deprived of her company that the duke made is more than adequate.”

Crispin froze. “Compensation?”

“The duke offered you money?” Gemma breathed.

Crispin turned his head. Rafe, damn him. Sweeping in on a white horse and doing what he had not. Perhaps could not, considering his conversation with Abbot the previous day. And he hated that Gemma’s expression of gratitude was now about his brother rather than him.

“He did,” her father said with a grin. “So you can have Mary for the two Seasons, though I will require the aforementioned access and invitations. But it will all be worked out. She and her things are in the carriage on the drive.”

Gemma let out a gasp as she staggered toward her father. “You’ve left her in the carriage in our drive for nearly an hour?”

Sir Oswald shrugged. “You made me wait, Gemma. You’ve only yourself to blame.”

She let out a cry of pain and rushed from the room to collect her sister. Crispin watched her go, anger burning within him not just for her father’s callousness, but for the fact that he himself had done so little to get Gemma what she wanted more than anything.

He spun on Sir Oswald. “You bastard. Your beloved daughter my ass, if you left her outside for so long.”

Sir Oswald’s smile remained unchanged in the face of Crispin’s wrath. He shrugged. “She will get me what I want one way or another, unlike her ungrateful sister, so Mary is most beloved to me. As long as your brother and sister-in-law keep up their end of the bargain and see her married well.”

Crispin moved on him. “When she is settled, I swear to you, old man, you are going to pay for what you put Gemma through. And her sister.”

Sir Oswald’s eyes flickered with fear for one satisfying moment, but then he shrugged. “Have a care,
boy
. If my daughter hasn’t already told you, I will say that my mood should not be tested.”

“I am not those young women,” Crispin said, pointing in the direction of the door where Gemma had departed a few moments ago. “Not only am I not afraid of you and your petty threats, I have far more power than you do thanks to my name, thanks to my brother’s name. So if you hurt them, either of them, even in the tiniest way, you must know that every bit of my person, every bit of my influence, every bit of the rest of my life will then be dedicated to destroying you. Body, soul and finances.”

Sir Oswald’s smirk faded. “You have her now. Don’t foul it up as you apparently have done everything else in your life.”

Without another word, he turned and left. And even though Crispin knew he shouldn’t care what Sir Oswald thought or said, his parting shot rang in his ears.

Without a word, Gemma and Mary’s father hustled past them through the doorway of the parlor and out to the carriage. As soon as the footmen removed the final piece of luggage from the top, the vehicle all but screeched away.

“Is he truly allowing this?” Mary asked.

Gemma nodded, but her attention was through the door just a few steps in front of them. She had heard a little of the last part of Crispin’s confrontation with her father. Including her husband’s defense her and her sister.

And her father’s nasty last words.

She slipped her arm through Mary’s. “It seems he is,” she said. “Now let us come and greet your savior.”

Mary arched a brow. “Oh, is the duke here?”

Gemma shot her sister a glare and guided her into the parlor. She was disappointed to find Crispin at the sideboard, pouring himself a drink. He turned as they entered and smiled, but she could see the expression didn’t meet his eyes.

“Miss Quinn,” he drawled. “I’m so very happy to have you here at last.”

Mary nodded. “I am very happy to be here.” She said nothing else, and Gemma nudged her. “What?” her sister asked in a theatrical whisper.

“Don’t you want to thank Crispin for his assistance with Father?” she asked, glaring at her sister.

Mary sighed and stepped forward. “I-I do want to thank you, Mr. Flynn.”

“Crispin,” he said as a soft interruption.

She hesitated. “Crispin. I do appreciate all you have done and all the influence your brother has exerted on my behalf. I will do my best to take advantage of the opportunity granted me.”

Gemma watched Crispin’s face carefully as her sister spoke. He had been smiling at her until she mentioned Rafe’s part in the bargain. Then his expression had hardened and now he took a sip of that blasted drink.

“Well, I was happy to help.” He glanced at Gemma. “I will leave you two alone to celebrate.”

She stepped forward, arm outstretched. “No, Crispin, we would welcome your presence. This is all because of you, after all.”

His lips thinned. “We both know that isn’t true. At any rate, I would not want to interrupt whatever giddy ladies talk there is to be had. No, you two have your time together. You don’t need my interference.”

Gemma frowned as he nodded to Mary and then slipped from the room. Everything in her wanted to pursue him, to comfort him in whatever pain or disappointment he felt in himself. To thank him more properly. Or improperly. That desire almost drove her to follow him, despite the fact that Mary had only just arrived.

The realization struck her in that moment. Normally her focus in this situation would only be on her sister. But right now it was not.

“I’m so glad he left,” Mary sighed as she flopped into the closest settee. “Now you and I can truly be ourselves.”

Gemma shoved her desire to pursue Crispin aside and went to the door to pull the bell and have some tea brought. As she waited, she frowned at her sister.

“Honestly, Mary, you should be more open to the man.”

“Why?” Mary asked. “He stole you from our house after making a desperate bargain with our father. He forced you to marry him. He doesn’t love you—he probably isn’t capable of such an emotion.”

A servant appeared and after making arrangements for their refreshments, Gemma quietly but firmly shut the door. She took a deep breath before she turned back to her sister.