Suzi Love (23 page)

“Heavens, no! My expectations are much higher than that. These redheaded sisters merely gratify immediate wants. No, I refer of course to Rebecca.”

Cayle wanted to hit him, to knock his arrogance into the street. He could barely speak as he repeated, “Rebecca! You expect Lady Rebecca Jamison to become your mistress.”

Bennett’s look was revoltingly smug. “Not at first of course. I will give her one more chance to become my wife — ”

“But you’re marrying Margaret.”

“Margaret is from a far better family of course. Which is why I decided not to marry Rebecca before. But now, with the influence her brother will carry once he joins the consortium, Rebecca’s consequence will be far more elevated. Enough that I’m once again willing to accept her as my wife.”

“You’re insane. Becca will never marry you after the way you treated her.”

Bennett laughed, a laugh tinged with the insanity that Cayle suspected lurked just below the surface.

“Sherwyn, you misunderstand. If Rebecca refuses to be my wife, she will become my mistress.”

“Rubbish!”

“Mitchell has assured me of her cooperation, one way or the other. They’ve promised to destroy the Jamison family’s income so Rebecca will be forced to welcome me, and my newfound wealth, with open arms. Thanks to you deserting her four years ago, Rebecca was the subject of much gossip. When the Jamison’s commercial expertise is exposed as a fraud by the consortium, the gossip will be worse.”

“So, that’s his plan.”

“An ingenious plan. Discrediting them personally will destroy them. This time, when I suggest to Rebecca that her best recourse is to become my mistress, she will agree.”

“You’re a blind fool.” He grabbed the other man’s lapels and shook him hard, wanting to do more violence but still trying to retain some control over his emotions. “Mitchell is no more interested in Becca’s future than he is in yours. Once the Jamison’s usefulness has expired, the consortium’s plan is to get rid of the entire Jamison family. And you.”

“Nonsense,” the fool blustered. “They need me. I’m a man of great importance to them.”

“I will repeat — you’re nothing but a fool. Once they have Michael’s predictions, the consortium will snuff out your miserable life without a second thought.”

He paled. “Your attempts to frighten me are worthless, Sherwyn. The baron will look after my interests. We’re associates, friends.”

“Bennett, we can assist each other. Your associates are going to be disclosed publicly, and very soon. If you help us, you may save your miserable hide from prosecution.”

He gulped, swallowed hard. “How?”

“We need to know what the baron’s next move is. Will he wait any longer for Michael to acquiesce? And be careful what you answer because Scotland Yard cells are not nice places.”

Bennett gulped again but nodded. “Very well, I’ll agree to carry out my own investigations as to the consortium’s motives. If I suspect things are not as Mitchell assured me, I will notify you. That’s all I’ll promise. But in return, I want your word that you’ll not reveal to Margaret, or Rebecca, anything you’ve witnessed here tonight.”

Cayle knew he needed Bennett’s assistance and his first hand knowledge of the baron and his cohorts. Nevertheless, trusting a man of Bennett’s low morals disgusted him.

“Agreed,” he spat out after a moment’s hesitation but managing to ignore Bennett’s outstretched hand. He might have to work with the man, but he could not bring himself to touch his hand. “But if it comes vital for their safety, I will tell them.”

Bennett wiped his hand down his pants and turned for the door at a fast pace. Cayle watched him scuttle off like the rat he was. The same girl who had been on his lap earlier sidled up to him followed by her sister.

“Your Grace, if you require the same things as Lord Bennett, you may have the two of us. He says that two redheads are even better than one, as long as we look and act as innocent as the woman we are substitutes for.”

“And do you know who it is he imagines you are?”

The two girls giggled, showing clearly their young age.

“Of course, Your Grace. In moments of extreme passion, he calls her name. Is that your pleasure as well? To imagine we are her.”

“No, I’m sorry. There’s nothing I want from you.” Cayle was furious with himself. He’d thought Bennett loathsome, yet he had almost done the same thing.

Gone upstairs with a girl who looked like Becca. Bed her and imagine that it was Becca writhing beneath him.

The knowledge that he’d stopped at the bottom of the stairs was no consolation. He turned to the door with his mind spinning. Never had he felt so out of control of his life, his emotions, or his desires.

He wanted Becca, and her alone. And he didn’t want Bennett anywhere near her.

Although, he had no inkling of what to do next, or how to proceed.

At home at his Mayfair mansion, the Duke of Sherwyn slumped in the same chair Jenner had roused him from the first night Becca had come to see him. After doing the honourable thing and offering her marriage, he had nothing for which to feel blameworthy.

He groaned. Of course he felt guilt, and remorse, and shame. And more. Much, much more. What a mess he’d made of what should be for any woman a pleasurable occasion, possibly the most memorable of their lives. When reciting the practical reasons men, many men, had proposed to her, Becca had looked so vulnerable that he’d wanted to sweep her into his arms and promise her the moon. Shower her with the romantic gestures she deserved. Be the man she merited as her husband.

Regrettably for her self-worth, he’d proved himself to be just another arrogant man who assumed any woman several years past twenty and unwed should be grateful for any offer of marriage. Even an offer as cold and unsavoury as his had sounded. Another man conceited enough to assume she needed him more than he needed her.

Becca had asked if he loved her. Feeling love was a painful emotion he’d avoided since being banished by his father and cut off from his brothers. So, if what he felt for Becca was a simple case of neighbourly concern, friendship, for her and her family, why then did he ache inside?

When he was with her, he felt happy and at peace and he’d felt confident they’d deal well enough in the future to endure a marriage. Very few unions of people of their class happened for reasons of strong emotions, but rather for more practical concerns. It was irritating that Becca couldn’t see that. See that a marriage to him would benefit her, not harness her spirit.

For two hours he brooded, alternating between blaming himself for his poor judgment and lack of tact with annoyance over Becca’s ridiculously normal female reaction. Of all women he expected her, as a theorist, to view their relationship in a practical fashion and not romanticize it. All he knew was that he was so confused, perplexed and saddened that he had no idea of how to proceed, an unprecedented turn of events for someone as decisive as him. When his brothers joined him, he was well on his way to drowning his sorrows in brandy. Jenner muttered under his breath about the stupidity of youthful men who couldn’t see their noses in front of their faces.

• • •

Cayle glared at his brothers for disturbing his solitary melancholy. Brian poured he and Tony hefty slugs of brandy then threw himself into a nearby armchair. “You look like hell.”

Cayle merely glowered harder and snarled.

Tony took a second look at his face and murmured, “Ah, I see.”

Brian, always slower getting the point than quick-witted Tony, looked between his two brothers in puzzlement. “See what? What am I missing?”

Tony chuckled, relishing Cayle’s despondency. “At least now we know you’re human. Brian and I had worried that since your return you were imitating a block of granite. Unbreakable, unbending and above all, stone cold.”

“So glad my misery is amusing you,” Cayle muttered, glaring at Tony.

“I’m offering no sympathy as I’m confident you’ve wreaked this havoc upon yourself,” Tony said. “You’ve no idea how to handle a woman of Becca’s — ”

“Don’t finish that!” Cayle stiffened, his hands slamming down on the arms of his chair. “I’m warning you.”

Tony laughed again. “I was merely going to say, her intellect.”

To Cayle’s irritation Brian caught on and joined in, both his younger brothers considering baiting their older brother fun.

“But Becca does have the most delicious body. Which you obviously don’t know how to handle either.”

Cayle’s growl rivalled a tomcat’s squalling.

“So what exactly have you done wrong this time?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Cayle said. “If you must know, I asked her to marry me.”

“And we assume by your foul temper, she had enough good sense to refuse you.”

Cayle pointed at Tony. “It’s entirely your fault that I proposed at all. You prodded me into it, saying she’d be safer under my protection.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Ah, but I said protection, not marriage.”

“Becca is a lady.” Cayle leapt out of his chair to grab Tony by the lapels, yanking him upright. “Not a mistress.” He gave Tony a little shake.

“So you didn’t follow up when she refused your offer of marriage with an equally mercenary offer of carte blanche?”

“No,” Cayle said, trying to keep control of his temper. “I didn’t ask her to become my mistress.”

Brian nodded sagely. “But you’d like her to be.”

Cayle couldn’t deny this and his brothers knew it. Every time he looked at her, he saw beds, sheets, bathtubs. He saw her naked and willing. It was driving him insane. He let go of Tony’s coat and his brother dropped back into his chair. Cayle ran his hands through his already tousled hair and shook his head in frustration before slumping back into his own chair.

Tony continued, “Hard to imagine why Becca refused. Of course, your proposal would have been everything a romantic young lady could hope for — bended knee, betrothal ring, declarations of undying love.”

For a short time, drinking had dulled Cayle’s guilt over his slapdash proposal but now the stupidity of it overwhelmed him again. He dropped his head into his hands and groaned in despair.

“I made an absolute cock up of it.”

Brian gave another happy laugh. “As we said before, it’s comforting to know you’re not an infallible god. You make mistakes like the rest of us mere mortals.

“Have I been so unbearable?”

“For the first two months after you returned home, you were on an unrelenting crusade to prove you’re a better man than you were four years ago. A better man than our father ever was. It made you so boorish we could barely stand you.

But since you’ve been escorting Becca, you’re a different person. Everyone’s noticed.”

“However, that also includes our dear stepmother. And she’s displeased with you. Crossing Julia is not a good idea.”

“I know. So, if Becca refuses marriage and my offer of our name, how will I protect her?”

Tony’s gift was studying people and their reactions. He offered his advice. “If you want Becca so badly, go after her. Don’t let Julia stop you. Her demands about keeping the family name pure, free from gossip, are ridiculous. Court Becca. Woo her.”

“But she wants a man who loves her. And she knows I don’t.”

Tony’s regard was wise beyond his years. “Don’t you? Then why are you sitting here drowning your sorrows instead of carousing with your friends? Think about it, Cayle. How would you feel if Becca had been seriously injured tonight? Or worse, murdered.”

Cayle shuddered and his brothers both nodded.

“Yes, you may not be ready to admit to loving her yet, but without her, your life would go back to being boring.”

Cayle laughed. “And predictable.”

“Humdrum and conventional.”

• • •

They left Cayle alone to ponder the mysteries of Becca and how he could solve it. His brothers were right. She’d brightened up his life, made him laugh again, and whether he wanted it or not, made him feel. Only, such feelings hurt. But the worst thing was that he’d also hurt Becca and that was unacceptable. He needed to repair that, now. Cayle did the unthinkable in sedate Martin House and walked to the door to bellow down the hallway.

“Jenner!”

His head spun a little and he listed slightly but the ever astute Jenner arrived and steadied him. He hadn’t actually imbibed that much, but he’d been too busy making arrangements to eat.

“Jenner, it’s past midnight. Do you think I should visit a lady at this hour?”

“Your Grace, the lady in question was intrepid enough to visit you in your residence at night. And from what I heard — ”

“Listening at the door again, Jenner?”

“Indeed, Your Grace. And from what I heard, you’ve upset that lovely lady and it needs to be set to rights. My good wife, God rest her soul, believed one should never go to bed on a quarrel.”

Cayle agreed, ordering Jenner to arrange a hansom to take him to Grosvenor Square. It was past time to set things to rights. At Jamison House, Cayle pushed open the door to the servant’s entrance and faltered. He debated if he’d imbibed too much brandy to be breaking and entering, or if being slightly inebriated gave him the impetus to do it. Creeping up the narrow stairs, he prayed no servants appeared before he discovered which room was Becca’s.

At the next landing his question was unexpectedly and, for Cayle, miserably answered. The gut-wrenching sounds of sobbing tore at him as he stood outside the door, frozen with guilt. What had he done?

She’d laughed off his proposal as being the same as all her others but they’d been for wealth or schemes. His wasn’t. He’d trampled over her fragile feelings by committing the same sin. Like all the others, he’d forgotten that while Becca may have an intellect far greater than most men, she was still a woman with a woman’s sensitivities.

Barefacedly, she’d lied that she didn’t cry over proposals. Yet, he could hear her beyond the door still sobbing her heart out. And it broke his heart. That fresh crack in it widened by another notch.

Gathering his courage, he stepped inside and pushed the door closed behind him. For a moment, he stood still and watched her. She was spread face down across the bed, the top buttons of her gown undone with the remainder still fastened, long red locks tangled through them. Sob after sob shook her frame and rocked the bed. Lowering himself to the edge of the bed, he reached out a hand to stroke her back and said in a comforting whisper, “Little one.”