Wicked Proposition (50 page)

“She is quite special, Chumley,” Nicholas said
and smiled sadly. “I would do whatever I had to do to make sure
these wrongs are now righted for her.”

“You cannot give her back the last two years of
her life, Nicholas,” Chumley replied sadly. “She cannot miss what
she does not know anymore.”

“I know that only too well,” Nicholas said
quietly. “I can only give her back her brothers and her son now. It
is a start.”

“I know telling Lord Iverleigh the truth was
difficult for you,” Chumley stated gravely. “Most men in your place
would not have done so. Why did you do it?”

“Most men do not have as much as I to lose,”
Nicholas reflected moodily. “I cannot keep lying to my wife and
feel like it will all come out one day. She would hate me
then.”

“Secrets are like that,” Myron mused and nodded
in understanding. “No good can come of them.”

Silence fell between both men. His coach dropped
Chumley at his office and Nicholas was once again alone. The
interview had depressed him.

Nicholas was disgusted with his reaction to
seeing Gabriel and Catherine’s son. The immediate resentment he
felt for the small child appalled him. He had no right to the way
he felt, he knew. Just knowing the boy forever tied her to Gabriel
made him clench his teeth.

###

Gabriel laid his son back into his crib and left
the nursery. His mood was blackened by what he learned. He sent a
message cancelling his evening with Annabelle and retired to his
rooms. He sat heavily in a chair before the fire, his head in his
hands.

Would it never end?

Just when he thought it could get no worse and
the pain ebbed a degree some new torment jerked him backward. Was
he to never get past the pain of losing Catherine? Nicholas’s angry
words haunted him.

Gabriel knew he still loved her. Yet he was
still trying to find some way to blame her for all that had
happened. He knew why. He was angry she had not confided in him
from the start, and spared them all this misery.

Why had she not trusted him? God, what had
Lillianne done?

Gabriel blamed himself. Had he let the matter go
about seeking a divorce, Lillianne wouldn’t have felt it necessary
to go to such desperate lengths.

Gabriel could hardly conscience what she had
done to Catherine. His chest clenched at the pain Catherine had to
have endured having her child wrenched from her arms. He had no
doubt Lillianne had used a naïve, desperate young woman for her own
purposes.

The thought of allowing Catherine a chance to
know their son made him tense. The boy had known no parent but him.
He admitted to a certain bit of selfishness now. Giles was quite
spoiled and had only him these last two years of his life.
Lillianne had never laid eyes upon him since he took him from
her.

Gabriel ached now to think the same night he had
felt such elation and joy at the birth of their son; Catherine had
experienced such horror and loss. He was grateful she could not
remember now. Nicholas could not be faulted in that way. The
knowledge she had lost the child would not have aided in her
recovery. No, surprisingly, Nicholas had not failed Catherine as he
had.

While he questioned her motives and true
involvement, her husband stubbornly refused to accept the
possibility of her guilt. Nicholas stood by her now, despite the
way all appeared.

The truth didn’t change his stance on keeping
his son’s birth a secret. None would know the truth. As far as the
world was concerned, Lillianne had indeed borne their child.

Gabriel would make her pay for it every day of
her miserable life, that is, if she didn’t hang along with
Sullivan.

Gabriel would allow Catherine to know her son,
but Giles belonged with him. He would not give up his son to her.
He knew the pain it would cause her to be denied her child, but he
couldn’t imagine losing his son too. Losing her had been bad
enough.

###

“I’m only going to ask you once more, my dear,”
Lord Dartmouth repeated savagely as he pinned Yvetta to the bed,
his knee in the middle of her back. “Where is it? It will go much
better for you if you tell me. We all know you took it!”

Yvetta cried out in pain, but Dartmouth pinned
her easily. They were in the rose room. He had tired of Constance
and sent for Yvetta. The man was in a rage and had no outlet for it
tonight.

When Yvetta arrived, Constance went running. He
decided he might as well find out what he wished to know. Yvetta
avoided him now.

She always found some excuse to be unavailable
when he came to the house. While she kept him supplied with his
favorite pleasures, it was obvious she was hiding something.

“I swear I don’t know!” Yvetta cried, but
Dartmouth only applied more pressure, making her cry out.

“You lying slut! You cleaned out Clarice’s
office of everything of value. Don’t tell me you didn’t take what
was in the safe too!”

“It was locked! Only Lord Iverleigh had the
combination,” Yvetta cried and struggled to breathe. “Her solicitor
passed it on to him when he took over the house. He was the only
one to open it since she died! I was there. He found only books and
papers inside!”

Dartmouth’s knee eased up and he allowed her to
rise. His black eyes filled with fury.

“Books and papers, you say?”

Yvetta rolled to the other side of the bed to
get away from Dartmouth. Her chest heaved with terror as she backed
towards the wall.

“That was all he took. There was nothing else in
it,” Yvetta said and licked her lips as she eased closer to the
door.

Dartmouth paid her no mind as she rushed out of
the room. His thoughts were scrambling to recall what Seaton
claimed the day he returned from his confrontation with Iverleigh a
few years prior. The idiot told Iverleigh what they had done. It
was obvious Iverleigh held the evidence. Dartmouth would enjoy
telling the others.

Dartmouth wasn’t letting Yvetta off the hook,
seeing her stationary earlier. He knew it was used to write the
notes, whether Iverleigh had written them or not. Yes, he would
have to divine some fitting end for Yvetta. She would pay for
helping Iverleigh.

###

Elise laughed and hurriedly hid behind a barrel
as the watchman ran past in pursuit of her. She withdrew the
nobleman’s purse and was delighted at its weight, pocketing it as
she returned to retrieve her valise within the rubbish strew about.
She looked about and saw the coast was clear as she withdrew her
dress.

In minutes, she was no longer the pickpocket
youth and once more the maid Elise, her blonde wig tucked into
place underneath her bonnet as she left the alley for home.

###

Catherine enjoyed the outing to the theatre. She
tired easily as her time grew near. The trip to the theatre with
her husband, Tieghan and the Van Ryker brothers had been on
impulse.

She excused herself from her four escorts to use
the ladies retiring room when she saw Gabriel. He was standing with
an auburn-haired lady and was speaking with a couple as she passed.
She could feel his eyes upon her and a flush stole up her neck.

Catherine delayed as long as she could in the
powder room, reeling from the sight of him. When she realized
Nicholas would worry, she left. Gabriel waited outside the doorway.
His dark eyes met hers and a clamor of some emotion slid over her
so powerful she trembled.

His handsome face betrayed no emotion as his
eyes devoured her face for some sign of recognition.

“What do you want of me?” she whispered in a
small tortured voice. Her hand trembled as she gripped the reticule
in her hands. “Whatever we were to each other once is in the past.
I cannot remember it. The sight of you upsets me! I know we were
involved once. I fear my husband will discover it if you persist,
so please stay away from me!”

“You remember us, then? You remember what we
were to one another?” Gabriel said huskily, his dark eyes glowing
with some inner light that made her tremble even more. “I have no
wish to cause you any pain, Mrs. Van Ryker. I just needed to hear
from you that you are happy and well.”

“It is quite alright, Gabriel. I know who you
are. It was a relief to know you are indeed real and not a figment
of my imagination,” Catherine whispered, her green eyes shining
with some hidden emotion.

Her use of his name made him smile, his sensuous
lips bringing those heated dreams to her mind’s eye. She blushed as
she recalled the power those lips had to make her weak and wretched
with need.

“I would not have spoken to you of the past,”
Gabriel said sadly. “I know you are married now. When you are ready
to hear of the past, you need only contact me.” He withdrew his
card from his pocket and handed it to her.

Catherine took the card from him, his fingers
brushing hers made her shiver with a startled jolt. Trembling hands
placed the card in her reticule, eager to talk with him, but
knowing Nicholas would not understand.

“I know I cared for you once, my lord,”
Catherine said softly and looked uncomfortable. “I do not remember
you.”

Gabriel looked as though he had been punched in
the stomach at her honest admission. “You loved me, Catherine. I
felt the same. I never got to tell you that you meant more to me
than you thought then. That has bothered me more than wondering
what happened to you.”

Catherine looked miserable to hear his words.
“Please, you cannot say such things! You have to forget about me
Lord Iverleigh!”

Gabriel smiled sadly. “If only I could. While
you have no knowledge of me, the sight of you never fails to wound
me.”

Catherine looked up into his handsome face and
saw his tortured dark eyes. Her heart clenched to know she caused
him such torment.

“I love my husband, Lord Iverleigh,” she said,
lips trembling under the force of his possessive stare. “I’m sorry
if that hurts you.”

Gabriel would have said something, but suddenly
they were not alone.

A hand gripped her arm and she looked up to see
Nicholas standing there.

Nicholas looked at Gabriel with a fierce scowl
and she glared as he pulled her away from the nobleman rudely.

“Is he distressing you, Catherine?” Nicholas
demanded, his eyes never leaving Gabriel, who smiled tauntingly at
him, his handsome face composed in an innocent expression.

“No, Lord Iverleigh has been most gracious,” she
said and nodded to Gabriel as Nicholas drew her away, eyeing
Gabriel with some undetectable expression.

Catherine eyed him angrily as he fairly dragged
her back to their party. She pouted as he took her aside, his blue
eyes sharp with accusation.

“Why were you conversing with Lord Iverleigh?”
Nicholas said sharply and he noted her discomfort immediately. “I
will not allow you to speak with him again!”

“You have no right to tell me who I can speak to
or not!” Catherine whispered angrily under her breath and looked up
at him with tears in her gaze. “He was merely being polite! He said
nothing more than a few civil pleasantries. You have no reason to
be angry with me. I don’t even know him! Surely you needn’t worry
over a pair of strangers exchanging a few words?” she lied brokenly
and looked away.

Nicholas grasped her chin and brought her eyes
back to his. He saw her hurt and her confusion, but he didn’t fail
to not notice the glimmer of her deceit. He released her chin and
cursed under his breath.

“You never did lie very well, Catherine,” he
said in sad resignation.

Catherine noted the change in his mood
immediately and bit her lip, looking down and feeling miserable for
being the cause. The intermission was over and she suddenly had no
desire to sit through the rest of the play. Her evening had been
spoiled.

He said no more as they went back to their box
to watch the play. She felt his withdrawal from her and hot tears
sat at the edge of her eyes for the remainder of the evening. The
enjoyment she had felt upon arriving was gone.

Nicholas guided her to the coach outside. As
Tieghan and his brothers clambered aboard she met Nicholas’s dark
look and shivered. When they arrived home the men got out.

Nicholas held her fast as she would have moved
past him. He made her sit back down. He rapped on the side of the
coach and called out to their driver to go around the block.
Catherine knew the conversation she feared was about to take
place.

“Do you know who Lord Iverleigh is, Catherine?”
he asked very softly, his hands gripping the edge of the cushioned
seat tightly as he awaited her reply.

“I have only seen him in my dreams on occasion,”
Catherine admitted and looked down at her hands. “I did not know he
was real. I swear to you that I had no idea he was someone I used
to …to… be intimate with! I did not know he existed until the
Billingsley ball and felt him looking at me. His name came to me
suddenly. He knew it from my expression. He just approached me
tonight to ask if I was alright, and nothing more.”

“Do you remember you were once the man’s
mistress?” he asked in a flat voice and she flinched and her hand
covered her mouth. “Yes, it is true,” Nicholas said and cursed and
looked out the window, not wanting to see the pain in her eyes. “Do
you love him still?” he asked quietly and looked back at her. He
saw her tears and her look of confusion and cursed himself for
pushing her, but his jealousy gnawed at him.

“I feel something when I look at him. I do not
understand what it is. Mostly it is fear I feel,” she said as tears
coursed down her cheeks. “I think I must have loved him once to
have been with him in such a way, but I do not know how I feel now.
I do not know him anymore! How can you ask me such a thing? I am
your wife! It is you that I love, with all my heart!”

Nicholas gathered her into his arms and kissed
her lips softly. His feelings of insecurity made him feel like an
ass. He was the one who was at fault for keeping all of these
things from her. She needed to know, he thought desperately. He had
to tell her before she discovered it all.