The Widow Wager (8 page)

Marcus and Rafe were staring at him, and never before had Crispin wanted the liquor on the sideboard behind the billiard table more than he did in that moment. They were shocked by his confession of how he had acquired his “bride”, but behind that shock was judgment. Frustration. Resignation that this was the kind of man he was. He could feel it oozing from his brother’s pores as he just
stared
.

“By God,” Marcus said, breaking the tension, or at least attempting to do so.

Rafe continued his silent observation until Crispin’s skin felt like it didn’t fit. He folded his arms and glared at his brother.

“Do you want to throw up in my face just how my drinking and gambling have come to get me? Do you want to tell me how right you always were that I should stop?”

Rafe’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “No.” The one word answer was so quiet that Crispin almost didn’t hear it. But his brother’s voice elevated as he continued. “You may see this as a punishment, Cris, but I see it as your greatest opportunity.”

Crispin looked at his brother, then turned to Marcus in an effort to find support for how ridiculous those words were. But his friend was merely standing by, arms folded. He actually looked like he
agreed
with such a stupid thing to say.

“What the hell nonsense are you going on about?”

Rafe shrugged. “I think a marriage would be good for you. No, the circumstances of how this came to be are not ideal, I will grant you that. And people will talk, but then it is
us
and people always do. However, on first glance the lady seems to be of solid character.”

Marcus laughed. “Indeed, when you were stammering and stuttering about telling us what had happened, she stepped in and saved you with her very forward introduction. There was a steel in her eyes in that moment that very much put me to mind of Annabelle.”

Crispin turned away, his breath short. The two of them acted like this was fine. That there would be no help from them except in terms of acceptance of the inevitable. Panic bubbled up in him, but he covered it with anger. Anger was easier.

“You would lay your life on me, brother?” he snapped, the words harsh and cutting.

When he turned, he found Rafe had not reacted to the jab. He merely said, “Because I was forced to marry Serafina? You think I would allow the same for you as some kind of way to make myself feel better?”

“Would you?”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “The situations are entirely different for a start. I didn’t drunkenly force some poor girl to marry me. If anyone should want out of the union, it should be Gemma. Does she?”

“I-I didn’t ask her,” he admitted after a hesitation while the question, and his shameful answer, sank in.

Rafe barked out a hard laugh. “Well, that’s typical. I love you, Crispin, but you have traditionally been one of the most selfish people I have ever known. The last year of pouting over spilled milk is proof of it.”

Crispin took a long step toward him. “It was far more than spilled milk, Raphael.”

Rafe raised his hands. “I wouldn’t know, you never told me. You just ran off, leaving Mama to worry and cry and age more than she has in a decade. You inspired Annabelle to run around in clubs trying to save you—apologies, Marcus, it did work out well.”

Marcus smiled. “I agree she never should have been running around in clubs. But damn, I’m glad she did.”

Rafe returned his attention to his brother. “And you left me to live with the fallout of my inheriting the dukedom and a bride and a life I didn’t want. Thank God I had Serafina or I would have been entirely alone.”

Crispin flinched. When laid out before him like this, his actions did seem utterly selfish. Perhaps this lost wager, this bride, was his punishment.

“Rafe—”

“No, I’m not quite finished,” his brother said. “And when you say that I am allowing you to live with this consequence because of my situation with Serafina, that is absolutely correct. Because if you were lucky enough to marry a woman with half the spirit and character that my wife has, you would be vastly happy, indeed. Have a care what you say next, Crispin Flynn.”

Crispin swallowed. He and Rafe had always gone wild together, caused trouble together, lived consequence free together. Yes, Rafe had saved him a few times, but mostly they were just two best friends doing whatever they wanted.

Now when he looked at his brother, he saw that Rafe had changed. He wanted to hate him for that, hate Serafina for it. But he feared that his brother had actually become a better man.

A better man who Crispin could never, ever live up to.

“I did not mean to insult Serafina,” he said softly. “I like your wife, Rafe. I helped you with her, if you recall.”

“You did,” his brother agreed. “And I love you all the more for it.” He reached out and touched Crispin’s shoulder. “I would do anything for you, Crispin. But when it comes to this marriage, I will
not
save you. Nor do I believe you should make any effort to find a way out of this situation for yourself.”

Crispin shut his eyes. The escape he had thought to find here was swiftly vanishing. He only had one more card to play.

“You say Gemma seems a good sort, and thus far I cannot deny it to be true.”

He flashed to their breakfast that morning. He hadn’t just wanted her then. He had liked her. But something she’d said, something he vaguely recalled her father saying, stuck in his mind. To tell them was his final attempt at getting out of this with Rafe’s help.

“She has secrets,” he said. “Both she and her father said something about her late husband. I have no idea when he died, honestly.” He winced at that admission. It was just more proof of how selfish he was. “But there are circumstances surrounding the death that are apparently untoward.”

Rafe drew back in surprise. “I would not have expected that. Are you certain?”

“I’m not certain of anything, because I don’t know anything except for a hint about a scandal.”

“She said her husband’s title was Laurelcross?” Rafe asked.

Crispin hesitated. Was it Laurelcross or Laurelvale? God, he really was a selfish bastard.

“Yes, yes, Laurelcross,” he said. “An earl. She said he did not come into Society much, he was older than she was. When I asked if they had met you, she said no, so you likely wouldn’t know him.”

“Serafina would,” Rafe said, glancing at the ceiling like heaven awaited him above stairs. “But I’m not about to go marching up there and disturb her rest to ask her about a dead earl and a rumor.”

“Laurelcross.” Marcus began to pace beside the billiard table. “Laurelcross—I thought it sounded familiar when she said it, but is it possible?”

Both brothers turned to their friend.

“Do you know something?” Crispin asked. It was completely reasonable that Marcus would. His club was very popular and he often knew the darker side of many of Society’s elite.

“I’m not entirely certain,” Marcus began.

“Well, we won’t judge exclusively on what you say, then,” Rafe reassured him. “What is it you recall?”

Marcus’s lips pinched and he looked at the brothers with an almost apologetic expression. “What I recall was said only in passing. Laurelcross once held a membership in my club and came regularly to game and play in the back rooms with the ladies. He hadn’t been around in a while, and when Abbot and I were talking about it, he mentioned the man had been married and was focusing all his…er…
seed
on making a legitimate heir.”

Crispin found himself flinching. Gemma would be utterly humiliated if she knew they were discussing her life like this. He wasn’t sure
he
liked it much himself.

“And?” Rafe pressed, clearly not as troubled by the fact.

“And then one day Abbot told me he was dead. But the rumor was…” Marcus hesitated and looked at Crispin carefully. “Some have said that Gemma
killed
her husband.”

Crispin stared at his brother-in-law in shock as what Marcus had said sank in. When Gemma had begun her talk of secrets, he’d thought of a dozen potential scandals, but this…
this
had never even crossed his mind.

“I’m sorry, are you truly talking about
murder
?” Rafe said, his mouth dropped open and his eyes wide.

Crispin stepped forward. “Wait a moment, Marcus didn’t say murdered. He said
killed,
and that means there could be much more to it.”

Both men turned their heads toward him, as if astonished that he would argue semantics about a subject as shocking as this. He frowned.

“Don’t look at me like that. I think we would all know, beyond mere rumor, if the woman ran screeching across the room and put a dagger in his back, yes? She likely would have been arrested if that were the case, I cannot picture that Laurelcross’s family would stand for such a thing to go unpunished.”

Rafe paced away, but he was nodding as he moved restlessly across the room. “I suppose you are correct. Were there any other details?”

Marcus shrugged. “You know me, since the woman wasn’t a member in my club, I didn’t have to worry about anything but removing her husband’s name from the roster. I didn’t press the issue and Abbot would never indulge in idle gossip—it isn’t his way.”

“And the entire thing may be idle gossip,” Crispin offered. “After all, Rafe, you and I did a great many of the things that have made our family name so notorious, but many of the actions attributed to us were also lies. You cannot deny that we know from personal experience that a kernel of truth can be blown into something far larger.”

His brother arched a brow and his tone was almost imperceptibly soft when he said, “We were never accused of being killers, Cris.”

Running a hand through his hair, Crispin looked once more toward the liquor that almost winked in promise across the room. If anything was a reason to get obliterated, wasn’t the idea that his forced bride was potentially a killer a good one?

“But you know her better than Marcus and I do, of course,” Rafe said, his voice breaking into Crispin’s longing. “What do you think?”

Crispin looked at him in sharp surprise. “You have heard my tale about last night—I don’t know the woman.”

“You spent a night and a morning with her. It is still better than the twenty minutes Marcus and I have in her acquaintance.”

Crispin sighed. They were right, he supposed, but it seemed an odd exercise to sift through his thoughts about Gemma in that manner. Especially since they were increasingly confused now that this new information was joining his first impressions.

“I was either in a stupor that I cannot recall or asleep for the first portion of our time together,” he began. “And entirely vulnerable. If the woman had ever wanted to kill anyone, I suppose it would have been me. She certainly seemed to be utterly terrified of me and despise me in the first few moments after I woke. And yet she didn’t do anything at all.”

“That is somewhat comforting, I suppose,” Rafe agreed.

“Except that in the husband’s case whatever was done could have easily been done in a moment of heated passion after months or even years of built up emotion.”

Crispin found himself glaring at Marcus. “You are talking about a situation we have no idea about.”

“You are utterly correct and I am wrong to speculate, except that in this case it is done out of worry, both for my wife and for you, a man I’ve considered my own brother since long before I swept your sister off to Gretna Green.” Marcus’s stare was suddenly very focused. “I suppose I take a more personal interest in what is truly happening here.”

Crispin scrubbed a hand over his face. Part of him loved Marcus for both considering him a brother despite everything he had done and for giving a damn about him. Part of him felt uncommonly defensive of Gemma.

“Let us forget what she did or didn’t do when I was unconscious,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “When I awoke, Gemma seemed more like a dove with a broken wing, not a killer. Once we got past the idea that I would harm her, once she began to accept that I didn’t recall what happened, well, she certainly didn’t behave in a way that would make me suspicious as to her past. She was conversational at breakfast, even funny at times. And don’t forget, she was the one who brought up that there would be rumors for me to deal with. She never tried to hide that fact.”

Rafe folded his arms. “But she didn’t tell you anything about the truth, either.”

Crispin ducked his head. “I doubt I’ve earned her confidence to reveal something so utterly personal and I’m sure devastating, no matter the circumstances. After all, I am the blithering idiot who has forced her into a marriage right alongside the father she despises.”

The room was quiet and Crispin watched as Rafe and Marcus exchanged a brief but meaningful look. He turned away from it in annoyance and chagrin. Probably they were shocked he was taking any responsibility in this situation at all. He hadn’t done that for a very long time.

“So what will you do?” Rafe asked.

Crispin sighed. “I will speak to her about it. Not here, because it is between us and not a story I would force her to tell to a room full of people she doesn’t know. But I
will
confront her with the rumors she herself admitted I would eventually hear and let her tell me her side of the tale. Only then will I be able to truly judge what happened and whether I am safe with her in my home.”