Her Wanton Wager (40 page)

Just as Percy moved to shield Gavin, the thunderous sound of horses broke through the night. A procession of carriages sped in their direction and formed a circle around them. Enormous ebony steeds pawed at the ground; from the windows of the vehicles, men in greatcoats aimed pistols at all of them. A liveried footman scurried to let down the steps of the main carriage, a monstrously elegant equipage of gleaming black and inlaid mother-of-pearl.       

A man wearing a grey wig and the fashion of the last century descended. Barrel-chested and short, he nonetheless had an incontrovertible air of command. He pointed the jeweled knob of his walking stick at Kingsley.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Kingsley stammered. All bravado had fled him, and his voice shook with fear.

Who is this man?
Percy wondered.

"Is that any way to greet your own father-in-law?" The newcomer approached Kingsley, his tone deep and menacing. "Then again, it appears you're lackin' in respect for my family in general."

"I—I don't know what you mean, sir. If you're referring to this incursion," Kingsley said, his eyes darting side to side, "I meant to surprise you with my prowess. I've a fortune coming from tonight, one which I'll of course be splitting with—"

"Ain't talkin' 'bout money. Talkin' about my Mavis. The treasure I entrusted you with."

Kingsley paled. "I've made her happy. Ask her yourself. When she returns from Bath—"

"That's the one blessing in all o' this, I suppose. What my baby doesn't know won't hurt 'er." The stranger sighed. "She'll mourn, poor dove, but she'll find true love the next time. I'll see to that."

"You crazy old bastard. You're not getting rid of me," Kingsley snarled, raising his pistol.

A shot rang through the night. Kingsley fell to the ground, screaming as blood gushed from his arm. Smoke rose from the pistol of the guard atop the main carriage. Two other men came forward and dragged Kingsley, struggling and cursing, into one of the other conveyances. The door closed, and he was heard no more.

Mr. Kent spoke first. "We must attend to the fire."

Black waved his walking stick, and his men dashed to help the others gather buckets and water from the river. Mr. Kent started to follow, but stopped. He turned with his shoulders hunched.

"Mr. Black, if I may ask," he said, "where is Lady Draven?"

Black glowered at him. "Dropped 'er off at 'ome, o' course. Don't think I'd bring a fine lady as that to a place like this?"

"No, of course not," Kent said in a tight voice. "Obliged, sir."

With a stiff nod, the investigator loped off to assist with the fire.

Nicholas stepped forward and bowed. "Thank you, Mr. Black. I am in your debt."  

The man looked him up and down. A grin broke across his face. "A marquess, bowing to me. Ain't that priceless." Chuckling, he peered down at Gavin, who remained sitting on the ground. "What about you, Hunt? Ain't you going to make a leg for me, too?"

"It'd be half a leg and a bloody one at that," Gavin said.

Black laughed until he wiped at his eyes. "I've 'eard about you, Hunt. Liked most o' what I 'eard, too. Don't suppose you'd be browsin' the marriage mart?"

"Oh no, sir," Percy blurted. As all eyes turned to her, her cheeks warmed. "That is, Mr. Hunt is otherwise engaged. Um, to me."

"That so, Hunt?" Black's brows nearly reached his wig.

"Not quite," Gavin said. Percy's breath stopped, found a hitched rhythm when he continued in a grave voice, "Miss Fines, would you have a seat next to me, please?" 

Mesmerized by the burnished intensity in his eyes, she did as he asked.

He took her hand in his own. "I said once I wouldn't go down on bended knee. But I want you to know I would for you, if it wasn't for this leg." Though ruddy color spread over his cheekbones, he shot a defiant look at their audience and added, "And I don't give a damn who knows it."

She nodded, joy welling in her eyes.

"I want to do this right this time. I don't have a poet's tongue or fancy words to declare myself," he said, "and there's still no violins. All I can do is beg your forgiveness for my mistakes. For not trusting you when I should have. For being so bloody stupid and letting you go."

"I understand, Gavin," she said. "Truly, I do."

"I don't deserve you, Percy." When she tried to protest, he cupped her cheek, pressing his thumb against her lips. "You're too good for me, love, there's no denying it. You're brave and loyal, so damnably sweet—you light all the dark corners of my soul." Emotion glittered in his eyes. "In return, you'd be taking on a scoundrel, scarred inside and out, who didn't even know he had a heart until he met you."

"You have a heart, Gavin. You always have," she sniffled.  

"It beats only for you. And I swear that if you will have me, Percy, I will never give you cause to regret that decision. I will love and protect you until the day I die," he said fiercely.

Her tears overflowed.

Gripping her hand, he said, "Will you marry me, Persephone Fines? Will you accept me as I am now? Knowing that I will strive to be a better man, to one day be the husband you deserve?"

"Oh, Gavin," she whispered, "I love you exactly as you are."

"Then ... you'll have me?"

She adored the note of wonder in his tone. "Yes," she said, smiling through her tears, "a thousand times,
yes
."

He gathered her in his arms, and the kiss they shared shot fireworks across the sky. An orchestra played, the world rocked on its axis ... though perhaps that last part was due to Mr. Black's impatient thumping of his walking stick against the ground.

"Chit's got pluck, I'll give 'er that." With a grunt, Black warned, "You'll 'ave your 'ands full, Hunt."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Gavin said, giving her a squeeze.

"Well, my Mavis might need a bit o' female companionship when she returns. Ain't much genteel company in the stews. Maybe you'll 'ave 'er for tea one o' these days?"

Percy sensed it wasn't a question. She was filled with too much gratitude to care. "Of course, Mr. Black," she said sincerely. "I should love to meet your daughter."

He nodded. "I'll go see about Magnus."

Gavin stilled. "You have him?"

"Caught him alongside the road. Old goat caused quite a bit o' trouble for me, and I planned to teach 'im a lesson." Black shrugged. "But if you want 'im, 'e's yours."

Percy felt the quivering tension pass through Gavin. She didn't fool herself about the world her husband-to-be came from and wouldn't blame him for whatever choice he made. He had suffered so much because of Magnus.

Yet would more bloodshed bring him peace?

Gavin exhaled slowly. "I'll take him. Over to the magistrates."

"Charleys, eh? Well, 'tis your business." Snorting, Black started back toward his carriage, his voice drifting back. "Off we go, boys—an' to all a good night."

"What about your revenge, Hunt?" Nicholas asked.

"The past has been laid to rest—all of it." Clearing his throat, Gavin looked up at Nick and extended his hand. Nick took it. Percy thought her heart couldn't get any fuller, yet it did to see two of the men she loved most find peace with their past ... and one another.

The moment passed, and both men coughed and look away.

"Well, I suppose that's for the best," Nicholas said, "as it appears we are to be family."

"I have your permission, then?" Percy said brightly.

Nick gave her a wry look. "Would it matter?"

"Not at all. But I was hoping you might help persuade Mama," she admitted.

"Don't worry about your mother, love," Gavin said, pulling her close. "I'll speak for myself. In fact, I already have a speech planned."

"You do? Whatever will you say?"

His tender smile sent joy skipping through her. "I'll tell her that I don't begrudge a moment of my past because all of it led me to you. That I thought I wanted revenge, but all I've ever needed is your love." He paused, and that wicked gleam she loved entered his eyes. "And I'll thank her for giving me permission to wed you in a proper ceremony. To spare me the inconvenience of having to cart you off like your namesake."

Percy choked back a laugh at the none-too-subtle threat. "You wouldn't really do that, would you?"

"I'll do anything to have you, buttercup," he said solemnly. "Mine, remember?"

"Mine, too," she said and, still smiling, pulled him close for a kiss.

FORTY

The next three months passed in a blur—though to Gavin's accounting, still not fast enough. To him, waiting twelve weeks to have Percy was nothing short of torture. Yet according to Mrs. Fines and Lady Harteford, that was the absolute minimum time necessary to prepare for a wedding, and given their tenuous acceptance of him, he'd grudgingly acquiesced. In truth, he needed the time for his leg to heal—a fracture, as it turned out—for he'd be damned if he hobbled down the aisle toward his bride-to-be.

There were other matters to attend to as well.

John Magnus had been sentenced to life imprisonment. From the looks of him at the trial —which both Gavin and Morgan had attended—the old bastard wasn't for long anyway. It nonetheless brought Gavin a measure of peace to see justice finally served. Afterward, he and Morgan had gone to a coffeehouse and discussed the future.

To Gavin's shock, Morgan had offered him a partnership in Fines & Co.
You can't stay in the gaming business forever
, the marquess had said.
Think of Percy and the children you may have one day. Do you want them exposed to that sort of life?

He ... didn't.

He hadn't given Morgan an answer as of yet, but the fact that he was now considering joining forces with the man he'd once hated spoke to how much his life had changed. Freed from the past, from his own anger, he was beginning to feel like a different man. More like the one he'd promised Percy he'd one day be. At times, 'twas disconcerting, but mostly it felt ... right.

Though every moment he spent with Percy was under his future mama-in-law's eagle eye, Gavin relished their cozy talks in the Fines' parlor or garden. Percy wanted to know everything about his past, and he told her, holding nothing back. One Sunday afternoon, she accompanied him to the cemetery where he'd buried Stewart. She held his hand as he said his final farewell to his old friend.

The love shining in Percy's eyes had made their long engagement bearable. Almost.  

Now, on the night of his wedding, Gavin paced the length of his suite in his dressing gown. Determined to give Percy the kind of life she deserved, he'd purchased a fashionable townhouse close to the Harteford residence. They'd come here after the wedding brunch hosted by the marquess and marchioness; after meeting the line of servants, Percy had excused herself to get ready for bed.

Bed. His eyes shot to the door of the adjoining bedchamber. The only barrier that separated him from his new bride. Even as elation and lust rushed through him, he felt unaccountably ... nervous. 'Twas the damnedest thing. For so long he'd been intent upon seducing her; now that she finally belonged to him, a twinge of apprehension mingled with his desire.

He scowled, thinking that he had Paul Fines to thank for the bridegroom jitters. His new relation had thrown him a party last week, a silly tribute to Gavin's last moments of freedom. As if Gavin could give a damn about his bachelorhood—given the choice, he'd have thrown it over for Percy in a heartbeat. But he knew a white flag when it was being flown. And now that Fines was staying away from the cards and appeared sober most of the time, Gavin didn't mind the cull so much. So he'd gone.

He'd spent the night being plied with drink and bawdy stories told by well-bred gents. Though Gavin was no stranger to depravity, all the talk of wedding night deflowering had unsettled him. He'd never been with a virgin before. Apparently, they bled. Some even screamed.

A lot.

His hands went clammy at the thought of causing Percy pain. Of her turning away from him in fear or revulsion. Going to the liquor cabinet, he downed a shot of liquid courage.
Don't be an idiot, Hunt. She wants you—she loves you.
Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he went to the door and knocked. When no response came, he drew back his shoulders and opened the door.

The shriek made him jump from his skin.

"
Pardon, monsieur!
Mrs. Hunt is not ready—" A prune-faced maid barred the way to the room like a soldier on his last stand. From the expression on her face, she clearly thought she was protecting her new mistress from a fate worse than death. Weren't the French supposed to be
blasé
when it came to sexual matters? Perhaps the maid knew something about wedding nights that Gavin didn't. He swallowed.

"Is that you, Mr. Hunt?"

Following the direction of Percy's sweet voice, he spied her silhouette behind the silk screen in the far corner. The candlelight outlined her nubile figure as she dressed. The sight of her entranced him and brought him back to reality. This was his Percy, now his
wife
. He'd never hurt her. Then the shadow of her hands began smoothing along her body, and lust bolted through him, momentarily scattering his wits.

For God's sake, man, rein it in.

"Er, do you need more time?" he said.

"
Absolutment
." The maid nodded vigorously.

"Not really," Percy called out at the same time. "I'm almost done. Thank you for your help, Yvette—you can run along now."

With a last suspicious look at Gavin, the maid departed.

Gavin sat in one of the armchairs by the fire. Silence stretched as he racked his brain for conversation. Unfortunately, his ability to think was severely compromised by Percy's seductive movements behind the screen. God, he hadn't been alone with her for months. Now to see her this way ... He felt randier than a sailor on leave.

A minute later Percy emerged, and the sight of her unbalanced him utterly. He'd seen her in every kind of get-up, from breeches to turbans, but never in the simplicity of her night clothes. She was a bleeding
goddess
. In a white flannel wrapper dotted with pink flowers, her golden hair falling in shining waves to her waist, she'd never looked more vibrant and pure.