Читать книгу Regency Vows - Kasey Michaels, Alison DeLaine - Страница 38
Оглавление“YOU STUPID BASTARD!” Holliswell raged under his breath, yanking out a chair next to Nick at the coffeehouse where Nick was coming to terms with the vote that had taken place not an hour before.
Nick glanced up from his paper and took in the red face and outraged eyes. “Oh?”
“This is your fault.” Holliswell shoved a crumpled note in his direction. “She’s gone,” Holliswell said, eyes blazing.
“Gone.” Nick set his paper aside and picked up the note. Instantly he recognized Clarissa’s feathery hand.
“Run off with Edrington,” Holliswell spat.
Edrington. Nick raced through Clarissa’s words.
Please forgive me, Father. We are so much in love, and my fear was great that Lord Taggart would attempt to follow through on his own proposal, or that you would force one of your other pernicious choices upon me.
One of Holliswell’s other pernicious choices? For a moment he could only stare as the truth hit him like a full frontal assault: he’d been played for a fool.
“My Clarissa, my dearest angel—” For a moment Holliswell looked as if he might cry. But then he swallowed, and his fury returned. “I see now the plans you were making behind my back, filling her head with ruinous notions.”
“I would think Edrington’s title would carry some weight with you.” That day in the park—she’d told him she was out for a walk and did not know why Edrington wished to speak to her. That she’d only spoken to him once before at a dinner.
“Empty title. Scotland—with a penniless pissant!”
Clarissa, not so opposed to Scotland, after all. Just not with Nick. He’d practically sold his soul to the devil, fighting his own brother to save her, and she’d been perfectly capable of saving herself.
Accomplished actress indeed.
Nick reached for his coffee and took a sip. The tepid brew slid bitterly down his throat. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. As the daughter of an earl, she might have done much better.” He set the cup down. “In case you haven’t heard, the committe made its report this afternoon. The Lords voted against a third reading. The bill is dead.”
Holliswell looked as if he might suffer an apoplexy. “You worthless bastard.”
The man didn’t know how right he was.
“As of this moment,” Holliswell said through gritted teeth, “I am calling in my notes. Sell Taggart or assign it to me, but I’ll not coddle your debtor’s arse one more minute. Do I make myself clear?”
Another sip, and Nick leaned back in his chair. It was no less than he’d expected. He would lose Taggart, and he would start over with nothing. There was a moment of agonizing pain in his chest, followed by a peaceful numbness.
“Indeed,” he said. “I understand you perfectly.”
* * *
IT WAS OVER.
It was the fact that thrummed through James’s brain all evening as he fixed his mind on port and cards at the club. The committee had made its decision. He’d raised enough support, after all, and Katherine would keep Dunscore. His debt was paid, and he was free.
Good riddance.
It was the lie he told himself as he emerged, half-drunk, from the club that night and onto the dark street. The rank, misty air hit him full force at the same time as the realization that Katherine and Deal had no way of knowing the committee’s decision. It would take days for the news to reach them in Scotland. She could well end up married to Deal before learning the marriage wasn’t necessary.
Katherine. Married. To Lord Deal.
No.
Bloody, sodding, hell no.
He ground to a halt right there on the pavement. There was no way in hell he could let that happen.
It was the truth that blazed to life inside him right there beneath a sputtering lamppost: He wanted her. Age, insanity, illness—whatever the cause of this flatness inside him, it didn’t matter. She brought him to life, and he didn’t care why. Misguided fascination, carnal lust—none of that mattered.
He wanted her for himself, and he didn’t have to be in love to make it happen. Lust was more than enough. God knew plenty of marriages had been based on less.
Not that she would agree. Katherine would never consider marrying him or anyone else if she knew she held Dunscore outright.
But she didn’t know. Had no way of knowing, until someone brought the news.
God.
If he got there in time—even a day in advance of the post or a messenger—he might be able to...
God. He couldn’t really do it.
Could he?
He imagined how she would rejoice in triumph when she learned of the committee’s vote in her favor. How coldly she would smile as she turned away in disdain from all the men who’d imagined they could tame her.
From him.
Resolution impelled him forward, twice as quickly as before. Oh, yes. He could do it. He would leave for Dunscore immediately. Tonight.
He’d gone no more than twenty paces when someone grabbed him around the neck and yanked him into a dark alley.
“Bloody—” James cursed and fought, but the assailant had caught him by surprise and a moment later James felt his back slam against a wall. “Goddamned blackguard,” a familiar voice growled in his ear. “I ought to kill you right here.”
“I would prefer that you didn’t, Jaxbury. I’d always hoped to die in my bed.” James’s breath came hard and his heart pounded out of his chest. He struggled to inhale past the arm pressing into his throat. “To what do I owe this honor?”
“I told you what would happen if you seduced Katherine.” Clearly Jaxbury had the advantage of sobriety. “You thought I was bluffing?”
“I thought you were smart enough to stay out of other people’s affairs. I don’t know what you think you know—”
“Everything! Phil never could keep a secret worth a damn.” Jaxbury’s arm tightened, he sneered. “Bastard. Didn’t know I needed to see Katherine safely home from the hearing. You knew she’d be forced to marry, so you took advantage for your own designs.”
A rush of fury gave James a momentary advantage and he pushed hard against Jaxbury, breaking the hold. He slammed his fist against Jaxbury’s jaw, half-blind with rage, almost welcoming the pain of Jaxbury’s counterattack. He threw another punch. Jaxbury grabbed him again and together they stumbled from one side of the alley to the other. James gave a nasty kick to Jaxbury’s leg and Jaxbury threw James against the wall. James launched himself against Jaxbury, hurtling the man’s body across the narrow alley and against the wall on the other side, but Jaxbury was back immediately with another hook to James’s jaw. James returned the favor, reeling, and managed to grapple on to Jaxbury’s shoulders at the precise moment Jaxbury grappled on to his.
They stood there, locked eye to eye, breathing raggedly. In the faint lamplight coming from the street, James could see fury in Jaxbury’s eyes. “Bloody coward,” Jaxbury spat, “hiding in White’s while Katherine offers herself up in captivity once again. Some gentleman, you, but I’ll make one out of you yet. We’re going to Dunscore. Tonight. You plowed the field, Croston—you’ll damn well bring in the harvest.”
James wrenched himself away. “You want me to marry Katherine?”
“And you’re going to do it if I’ve got to hold my sword to your balls.”
“She’ll never agree.”
“Got to marry someone, but then, you already know that. Sure as hell isn’t going to be Deal. Not if I have anything to do about it.”
Apparently Jaxbury didn’t know about the committee’s decision. James stared into that hard-edged, sea-weathered face and wondered if Jaxbury might prove an ally in his plan.
Perhaps. But more likely, if Jaxbury knew Katherine did not have to marry at all, he would abandon this protective outrage. All hope of marrying Katherine would be gone.
“As it happens,” James said, “I had already come to the same conclusion on my own.”
“Oh, aye,” Jaxbury said sarcastically, wiping at a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. “I can see how you’ve spent the evening thinking of her.”
James crushed a fresh surge of temper. “I leave for Dunscore immediately. Good evening, Jaxbury. It’s been a pleasure.” He turned to go.
“Not a chance,” Jaxbury laughed, falling in step beside him. “We’ll go to Dunscore together.”
“I don’t require an escort.”
Jaxbury gave him a friendly slap on the back. “Then think of it more as an insurance.”
* * *
THEY WERE IN James’s stables when a footman arrived, breathless. “Message for Lord Croston!”
James took the message and tore it open. It was from Admiral Wharton. He read the contents and looked sharply at Jaxbury. “You lying bastard. You would have let me go to Dunscore knowing of this.”
Jaxbury narrowed his eyes. “Don’t have the first idea what you’re talking about.”
James thrust the note at him. Jaxbury took it. Read. Visibly paled. “Good God.”
“She’s fled,” James said flatly.
“No. Not Katherine.”
“Of course, Katherine.”
“I’m telling you,” Jaxbury ground out, “she would not have done this.”
But she must have. “Who else would sail the Possession out of London in the dead of night, bold as balls?”
