Dare to Love (26 page)

How could he be so cruel to her? She hadn’t asked for anything, hadn’t expected anything. She only wanted his friendship.

But, no, that wasn’t true. Even after learning all his secrets, she still wanted his love. A special place in his life.

Was it possible he’d had his fill of her and was now returning to the welcoming arms of more beautiful, experienced women? Were they better able to meet his needs? The thought shot pain through her heart.

No
, she argued. No one else had forged a connection like she had. No one else knew the truth. Surely, that was something.

Agitated, she paced her sitting area, listening to the servants removing Dare’s belongings. Once they had completed the task, she peeked out her door and crossed to William’s room. From there, she could watch his carriage parked on the front drive.

It wasn’t until she saw him storm outside, leap into the carriage, and drive off that the tears started. She ran back to her room, threw herself onto her bed, and let all the agony pour out. The only thing that kept her sane was the faint, slight, sliver of hope that one day he might return.

Dare settled back into his life at his London townhouse. There was no need to reflect on any of the unpleasantness he left behind at Vincent Hall. None at all. He was home and ready to enjoy the pleasures in town.

While entertainment was limited during the summer months, he soon learned of a lavish rout that was certain to break up the summer doldrums. As he approached the house, Dare could sense the evening held countless possibilities. Designed like a gypsy camp, the grounds were surrounded by tents and bonfires. Jugglers, fortune tellers, and musicians strolled around, as did servants with trays laden with delicacies.

He’d barely stepped on the grounds, when he was greeted by a group of revelers.

“Landis, welcome back to civilization!”

“Hasn’t been the same without you here.”

Graves, Lazby, Highstone, and Courtlay gathered around him, eager for an evening of debauchery. They were the crème of the
ton
, wealthy, attractive, and titled, gaining them entrance to any ballroom, and most bedrooms, in London. Dare finally felt at ease.

“What do you say we stir up some excitement, Landis?” asked Graves, a devilish glint to his eye.

Dare took the glass of spirits handed to him and drawled, “What do you suggest?”

Lazby, the youngest of the crowd was eager to respond. “Let us head down to the tent on the water’s edge. I understand there’s a tasty morsel doing a gypsy dance.”

They turned to Dare for approval, and he nodded his head agreeably. Delighted, Lazby stumbled forward toward the tent and the others followed. He smiled as Lazby grabbed a tray of drinks from a startled footman before distributing them to his compatriots. Throwing himself into the festivities, Dare gulped down two in rapid succession, earning himself cheers from his friends.

Letting the younger men roam ahead, he paused at a table to sample a skewer of roasted boar. Graves joined him.“So, were you able to find a few willing wenches in the country to keep you amused?”

Dare had been friends with Graves since his early days in London. Together, they had embraced the rakish lifestyle, exploring the gaming hells and clubs in search of fights and women. They had often waged contests to see who could attract the more beautiful or scandalous conquest. Dare could imagine the reaction of his friend if he told him of his experience with the formerly virtuous and overly voluptuous Miss Horsham. It would hover between disbelief and horror.

Now that Dare was back home, he found it difficult to believe himself. Knowing that Graves expected some sort of tale, he resorted to an unusual and rarely called upon strategy. He lied. Extravagantly. “Actually, old man, it was quite an enjoyable interlude. Scored a winning hand—four queens.”

“You did not!” Graves shouted. “Two brunettes and two redheads? Quite a feat, even for you. Tell me more.”

Dare shrugged, warming up to the tale. “The first was Miss Berkshire, now Wilshire. A nice enough piece, to be sure, and hair as black as spades.”

“Ah yes. She has been cozying up to you since her first season. Was she worth the wait?”

“She had some talent. Unfortunately, she crossed me and won’t get a second chance.”

“Pity for her,” Graves smirked.

“Too true. Next was a wedding guest from a nearby shire. I fear she was hoping for a nobleman’s title, but only wound up with his staff.”

“Ho, Landis, you are the devil himself, aren’t you? And was she a redhead?”

“No, my queen of clubs had rather ordinary hair, brown and curly. The redheads were a special treat the night before my departure. Would you believe cousins, visiting from Galine? I managed to persuade Fiona to take a tour of the library. After sharing a glass of sherry, I discovered the couch, and the redhead, to be quite accommodating.”

Graves just rolled his eyes at this and waved at him to continue.

“After that, I strolled in the gardens with the delightful Miss Brynwyn, where we located a secluded temple. We found the Greek statues to be quite inspiring and she eagerly explored my ionic column.”

At that, Graves laughed. “You are a master at the double entendre, my friend, quite the turn of phrase. I’m sure you understand that I will need collaboration before I let you win this hand.”

Dare raised an eyebrow in silent rebuke.

“Surely, you were not so discreet as to go completely unnoticed, especially when the ladies in question came stumbling back to the party rumpled and sated.”

“I’m certain they were sated. As to the rest, I cannot say.” He waved a dismissive hand in the air and headed down the path, content that his tale included enough of the truth to quell any rumors regarding his true exploits.

It didn’t take long to locate the desired tent. It was surrounded by a bawdy crowd of gentlemen, eagerly expressing their appreciation. Undeterred, Dare strode through the throng and secured himself a key vantage point, with Lazby and the others following close behind.

The woman in the center was quite magnificent. Lean and dark, with thick black hair and shadowed eyes, she spun and swayed in a circle. She had four veils draped over her lithe form, with others scattered about on the grass. A chain of gold surrounded her waist, and she held tiny cymbals in her fingers that were barely audible over the catcalls of the crowd. As a dancer she was well skilled, alternating between slow sensuous movements and a more fevered pitch, twirling in mad circles, causing her gold jewelry to flash in the lamplight.

A portly fellow next to Dare gave him a nudge in the ribs. “Called the dance of the seven veils.” Without taking his eyes off the entertainment, he licked his thick lips. “Three are gone and the next few promise to be quite revealing.”

The dancer’s hand trailed along the edge of a gauzy blue scarf, draped from shoulder to hip. The shouts grew louder as the crowd implored her to remove the draping. Once she sensed their attention was maximized, she once again slowed down and loosened the knot at her shoulder. Catching both ends in her hands, she slid the scarf across her body, tantalizing them with flashes of skin.

The tension mounted. Only three scarves remained, covering two scraps of strategically placed gold fabric. She once again picked up the tempo, whipping the scarf above her head before letting it sail to the ground near Dare’s feet.

“God’s blood, she is magnificent,” Lazby slurred at his side. “She would be a ride no man could forget, I’d wager.” Then, to everyone’s dismay, he reached out and grabbed a hank of hair as the dancer twirled by. The sudden tension yanked her from her feet and she collapsed in a heap in front of them.

The crowd erupted with shouts. They were not happy to have their entertainment interrupted. Dare reached over and pried the pup’s hands out of her hair. “Lazby, that is no way to treat a lady.”

“She’s no lady. She’s mine. I saw her look at me. I know what she wants.”

“Here now, Lazby. You must be nice and share.”

The cur slapped Dare’s hand away and grabbed once more for the woman. “I don’t wanna share. I caught her. I keep her.”

Dare was disgusted by his ill-mannered behavior. “No, she’s here to entertain everyone. Perhaps after the show you can seek her out. For now, I think it’s time to leave.”

He motioned to his companions to grab Lazby’s arms and together they dragged him from the tent. The sot flailed around, trying to break free, but they held tight. As they headed up the path, they heard the music in the tent resume.

“Damn,” muttered Graves, “I was really looking forward to the next veil.”

Dare grunted his agreement before turning to the others. “Highstone, see that Lazby doesn’t get into any more trouble. I have no interest in rescuing him again this evening.”

Gravely, Highstone nodded, dragging his disgraced friend off to get some food.

At that, a trio of ladies entered the path ahead of them and Dare thumped Graves on the shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll be able to find adequate replacements this evening. Let’s get a drink and begin our search.”

Putting that unpleasantness behind him, Dare spent the rest of the evening in flirtatious conversation with uncomplicated women, accompanied by sly smiles and eager touches. It was just what he wanted. Superficial and uninspired as always, with no mention of his injury, no deep, personal probing into his upbringing. Just unfettered enjoyment. Dare was finally able to relax.

As the evening grew later, exotic fortune tellers appeared, wandering between groups. Draped in gauzy skirts and glittering jewelry, they invariably offered the same predictions. “You will find happiness. You will be blessed with children. You will have a successful night at cards in the near future.” It was all in good fun.

It wasn’t until Dare was heading out that he felt a prickle of anxiety. Turning around, he was startled by a gypsy woman in darker clothes, appearing more ragtag than sparkly. She grabbed his arm with her strong, narrow fingers, looked deep into his eyes, and whispered, “Your pain is ending. Allow it to happen. Don’t let fear stop your destiny.”

He froze. What sort of odd entertainment was this? He shook off her hand. “Quiet, old woman. I don’t need your ridiculous pronouncements.”

She gave him a steady look, her coal-black eyes boring into his, and then turned away without another word.

Dare felt a shiver run down his back. “Your pain is ending,” she had said.

Well, indeed it was. He had left his pain in the country. And he had returned to his destiny, his life, in London. While that interpretation made perfect sense to him, he could not shake the eerie sensation her words had caused. Determined not to let it overshadow his evening, he did his best to put her out of his head.

The next evening, Dare and Graves settled into one of their favorite gaming hells. They cordially greeted the other gentlemen gathered around the table, wasting no time joining their card game. It started as a casual pastime, but as the evening wore on, the play became more intense. Upon the arrival of Lord Barley and his more desperate cronies, the stakes rose with alacrity.

“I’m out,” said Graves, after a bad turn of the cards cost him a tidy sum. “I’m going to head to the club. Do you care to join me?”

Dare was having an unusually difficult time playing cards. Every so often, he would hear Nivea’s voice in his head, ruining his concentration. He recalled the morning when he’d told her about his childhood and she pointed out,
You gamble.
And then, when he mocked her disregard for honoring his father’s wishes, she shot back,
I don’t blame you
for breaking the fifth commandment.

Her support gave him a queer feeling inside. Why couldn’t he just block her from his thoughts?

But he couldn’t. In fact, she’d been rattling around his brain for the past week. Every time he saw a pair of pretty blue eyes or noticed flowers in the park, he thought of her. Tonight, when nothing in this godforsaken place should have had the remotest connection to her, he still couldn’t get her out of his head. And it was ruining his game.

Determined to end this once and for all, he responded to his friend, “You go on ahead. I’m certain to redeem myself. This run of bad luck can’t continue.”

“Are you sure?” Graves leaned over. “You sound like one of them.”

Dare sneered. “You know better than that. I will never be like them—in
any
form.”

Graves raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press the issue. Dare waved him away and turned back to his cards.

The stakes rose rapidly as others did their best to recoup their losses. After a few more hands, Dare considered walking away. He had not expected such an intense session and was running low on funds. He would play just one more hand and then move on.

Picking up his cards, he did his best to remain focused. Here was a hand that could not lose. Apparently, others felt the same way, and after a particularly aggressive round of betting, Dare found he couldn’t match the pot.

Well, that was a disappointing turn of events
.

He withdrew his jeweled snuffbox and took a second to consider his options. He could leave the table, but it seemed a damned shame given his spectacular hand. His companions sensed his situation and, anticipating his continued bad luck throughout the evening, began to press their advantage. “Landis, old man, it appears you are a bit out of pocket. No worries there, we are happy to take a voucher from you.”

Like hell they would.
Betting more than he could cover was a rule Dare never broke. It was such foolishness that resulted in his family losing their fortune and led to the unfortunate circumstances of his youth.

No, he would leave it up to them to divine another alternative. He leaned back in his chair, assuming his most bored and dispassionate pose and drawled, “Sorry, gentlemen, I fear I may just call it an evening. No point in pressing my luck any further.”

Desperate not to lose his mark, Barley’s eyes roamed over his opponent. “Perhaps you have something else you’d care to wager.” His eyes lit up as they settled on Dare’s snuffbox.