Chapter Twelve

Selena hadn't seen Warrick in six days, thirteen hours, and—she glanced at the pocket watch clutched between her fingers—twenty-five minutes. Her behavior would surely be considered disturbing to some, keeping track of time in such a manner. And certainly, she found her constant attention to the watch rather alarming, too, but after watching Warrick stride out of the library with his back straight and without so much as a backward peek after his last words, her awareness of every hour, minute, and at times even seconds in a day had become a torturous burden she could not escape from.

He had also stopped following her.

Or rather, he'd stopped a while back, when they'd come to their agreement, but he hadn't resumed his lurking after that day in the library. Every day she went out for a stroll on Bond Street. Not once had she caught a glimpse of his hulking body behind any of the lampposts. She didn't know if he still had servants following her. She doubted he did. She hadn't spotted his red-headed footman anywhere either.

Theodosia tapped a finger on the watch, drawing Selena's attention away from the ticking hands within the golden case. "I don't think he will come."

Selena returned the watch to her reticule, where a crumbled note that had been delivered to her earlier that morning lay nestled. "He will come," she said with more confidence than she felt.

He had to come.

She didn't believe—couldn't believe—that he would cut ties so cleanly. The man must still be observing her movements from the fringes, mustn't he? No, she dared him not to show his face today. He'd receive word one way or another that she'd revisited the alehouse, and he'd rush over. Like the last time.

"We've been waiting for three hours." Theodosia peeped through the carriage window, pulled up outside The Rose. "Why not wait inside? Leonora said their ale is good."

"The place belongs to those people."

"Those people? You mean the club you desire so desperately to join."

"I'm not desperate." Her fingers worried the material that held her pocket watch. Could she truly claim such a thing?

"Determined, then."

Selena glanced at her friend. "I've decided to take your advice."

"That's a terrifying thing to hear. What advice are you taking exactly?"

"Finding out what the club is about before I join."

"Oh, that. Indeed, good advice if I say so myself." Theodosia's voice was dry as sand. "What changed your mind?"

"I'm not sure. This place, I suppose. What secret club owns an alehouse on the docks?"

"Perhaps the women love beer?"

Selena wasn't so sure, but then, she couldn't rule it out either. Also, there was the note she'd received the morning... which she hadn't shown her friend yet. So, she couldn't blame her for her impatience.

"Forgive me for pointing this out." Theodosia leaned forward a touch. "You detest Warrick. Why are we attempting to lure the earl to us? Has your youthful passion perhaps returned?"

Selena ignored the dangerous question. "I never detested him. I was annoyed by him for a time, but there was no detesting."

"Then what is this about?"

Selena picked at her reticule. "We have unfinished business."

"Then why not call on him? Why go to this length?" Why drag me into this, her eyes demanded.

"I did call on him. He refuses to see me." And you are my friend, you must support me without question, Selena answered with a look of her own.

"Is that even possible?"

"Yes, apparently." It was as though the two kisses they'd shared meant nothing. But for that, she hated to admit, the blame lay on her shoulders.

Do you wish to be ruined? Do you wish to marry me?

Her heart beat a little faster, and then skipped when she thought of how she'd been barred from searching the house for him. She could perhaps slip past one footman but not the seven who had been on guard.

"He shall come around."

Selena shook her head. "I'm not so certain anymore." She'd practically pushed him out the library door with her remarks. However, she hadn't truly believed he would hold such a stubborn stance! How ironic. She finally had the distance she wanted at the start but now all she wanted to do was close it. Even if she couldn't, even if she failed, she still, had to try. This was one of her last, dramatic resorts.

"You're not certain that Warrick would forgive you for whatever you did?" Theodosia snorted. "I find that hard to believe."

"Believe." Selena forced a light smile. She was starting to believe as well. "There were some things between us," like his kisses, his unromantic marriage suggestion, him, "that were worthy of deeper attention, but I pretended otherwise."

Theodosia arched a brow, but she didn't question her. "Then drop the pretense."

Selena peeked through the window again. "Easier said than done."

"Why? It seems to me that you enjoy the fellow helping you find your club. Just continue to do what you were doing."

"You seemed to have forgotten about my brother and the duel..." amongst other things. "I fear we have reached a point of no return."

"And yet we find ourselves in a carriage in the hope that Warrick will appear," Theodosia pointed out. "Besides, doesn't coming to a point of no return just mean you have no other choice but to forge onward? See where the path you are on leads you."

Yes, but, "What if it leads to marriage?"

"So what if it does? What if it doesn't? There is no use dwelling on such questions since they will answer themselves eventually. You decided to partake in this journey. You decide how it ends. Period."

Could it be that simple?"See." She grinned at her friend. "I knew there was a reason I brought you along. You always set my mind at ease."

Theodosia nodded. "Now it's your turn to impart some advice." Her voice turned serious. "What do I need to do to get rid of your brother?"

"Why not see where fate leads you?"

Theodosia gave her a flat look. "Do not make me laugh. Our situations are not the same. I have no previous affection to draw from like you. Your brother makes my skin scrawl."

"Quite frankly, if you want to get rid of him, leave London."

"That's your advice?"

"My brother rarely changes his mind once he is set on a task, or mission in this case. And won't your brothers arrive any day now?"

Theodosia scowled. "Drat them."

"And if you do decide to retire to the country, take the book with you," Selena suggested.

"The betting book?"

She nodded.

"Has the Duke of Mortimer paid you a visit?" Theodosia asked. "It seems he's speaking to the heiresses."

"No," Selena murmured. "But I suspect he might be looking for the book for personal reasons."

"Why? Did something happen?"

"No, it's just a hunch." One formed after receiving the note. Selena almost handed the note to Theodosia but held back. She didn't want to show the note to anyone else before she showed it to Warrick.

"Well, I shall consider it. Lord knows, the sea air might be just what I need to set my mind at ease."

The door to carriage was wrenched open, and Selena's heart thudded as she sat up straight.

"What the devil are the two of you doing?" A familiar voice accompanied by an unwelcome countenance demanded.

Her smile drooped. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm your damn brother and I followed you here. It's been three hours. My arse hurts from waiting around. What are the two of you up to?"

"As usual, you are a joy," Theodosia murmured. "And who says we are up to something?"

"Don't take me for a fool." Saville ducked into the carriage, but before he could take a seat beside Selena, she stretched sideways to block him. "This spot is taken."

He sent her a begrudging look as he settled next to Theodosia instead.

Selena crossed her arms, returning her brother's look. "Are you here to badger, scold, and curse us?"

"Is that not your favorite pastime?" he countered.

She huffed out a breath. "I've moved on to different hobbies, if you must know."

"More inappropriate ones, I imagine."

"At least I have direction," Selena snapped. "What do you have?"

Saville snorted. "Direction? Did that direction lead you here?"

"Why yes, it did. Thank you for asking."

Theodosia clapped her hands twice. "Let's not bicker in such a confined space, please. Warrick is not with you?"

Saville scowled. "Why would that villain be with me?"

Theodosia arched a brow. "So the rumors are true. The two of you are in the midst of a lovers' tiff."

"What lovers' tiff? That cad crossed the line!"

"By that account," Selena said in his defense, "I crossed the line as well."

"He should have known better," Saville growled.

"Because he is a man?" Selena demanded.

"Yes!" A short pause. "No. That's not the reason."

Selene arched a brow. "Are you certain? You don't seem so sure about your answer."

"Damn it, he should have known because he is older."

Theodosia burst out laughing. Selena wanted to as well, but she couldn't find the humor. "Older means wiser then?" she asked instead.

"Older means more life experience."

"Then why are you acting like a child?"

"Don't call me a bloody chi—" He cut off suddenly and cursed. Saville cleared this throat and continued more calmly. "So, why are the two of you here? Are you waiting for someone? Does it have something to do with the new list that appeared in White's?"

Selena jolted. "What new list?"

"Yes, do tell," Theodosia murmured.

"A list of the most eligible bachelors," Saville said, adding in a sour note, "and their flaws."

"What about their best attributes?"

A grunt. "If you could call titled a best attribute, then yes," he said, "but I do understand your past resentment better now."

"How intriguing," Theodosia said. "Are we to assume your name is on the list? What's your flaw? Shall we take a guess?"

"Infantile," Saville said without preamble. "They called me infantile."

Selena did laugh at this. She wanted to kiss whoever compiled the list. "They must know you quite well."

"I already know who created the list. Your lover."

Her lover? Did he mean Warrick? Selena refused to fall for such a paltry trick. "I do not have a lover."

A snort. "Kissing friends, then."

"There is no such thing." And if there were, she'd be supremely intrigued. But kissing never stayed at just kissing. It evolves. Into dreams. Fantasies. Longing.

Theodosia shook her head. "I never took you for a prude, Saville."

"Whose side are you on? Or do you also believe there is nothing wrong with walking around and kissing people?"

Selena rolled her eyes.

"You truly have to ask that?" Theodosia responded. "Well, I shall answer in any case. I am on the side of independence and free will."

"The side of rebellion, then."

Selena wanted to boot her brother from the carriage. However, like a stubborn barnacle attached to the bottom of a ship, it would be near impossible to brush him off. It didn't matter anyhow. The only thing that did matter, the only thing that was a true bother...

Her heart constricted.

He hadn't come.

*

Warrick lowered thecap over his brow as he watched the carriage pull away and disappear into the distance. He waited until he could no longer see them before entering the alehouse. She had tested him today, and she would have been happy to discover that her ploy had worked.

Only, perhaps not in the way she would have wanted. Had she entered the tavern on the other hand...

"Why didn't she enter?" Warrick muttered in thought. That day should have left an impression on her, supported her confident belief that he would show up when he was needed. But today she hadn't entered. Realization struck. She hadn't been certain he would follow her.

Doubt had already formed in her mind.

He sighed.

Six days.

Six days he had painstakingly avoided her. Emphasis on the pain. He remained uncertain where, how, or when he had become so attached that he'd had to resort to full out avoidance yet still lurked in the shadows to catch a glimpse of her.

When had he turned this pitiful?

That look in her eyes before he'd walked away... Lord above, that look haunted him. Followed him around like a damn ghost refusing to enter the light.

Keeping his distance was for the best. He was not all that good to begin with, starting as many fires as he put out. And after all he'd done to harm her, what woman would attach herself to such a man? But that didn't stop him missing their interactions.

Or perhaps just missing her.

His gaze found the man in a shadowed corner. While he'd been watching Selena, he'd also glimpsed a familiar figure enter.

Warrick narrowed his eyes and strode to the man seated in a darkened corner at the back. "You were here that day as well, weren't you?"

The Duke of Mortimer lifted his head to meet his gaze. "Keen observation, Warrick."

"You followed Lady Selena today?" A wild guess.

"Not quite."

"Not quite?" He paused in thought. "You believe she has the betting book."

He inclined his head. "I believe it's in her hands at the moment, yes."

"It's not."

The duke arched a brow. "You know this for a fact?"

Warrick plopped down and signaled for a beer. "Is that the same barman from the other day?"

"No," the duke said. "He hasn't shown up since then."

Was that so? "Suspicious business."

Mortimer inclined his head. "Very."

"I know she did have the book at one time," Warrick offered after a moment. "I also know she hates reading."

"So she passed the book along already."

Warrick narrowed her eyes on the man. "What are you doing here, Mortimer? You don't strike me as the sort of man to visit taverns such as these just to keep track of a lady who may or may not have a book you were asked to retrieve."

"Should I have sat in a carriage or stood next to a lamppost for three hours then? I'd rather spend my time more comfortably."

"When you say it like that, you make it sound as though I belong in Bedlam." Warrick's tone couldn't hide a sour note. Mortimer still hadn't given him any response that would even remotely answer his question. This must be part of the real reason he was hunting the book.

"What about you?" Mortimer asked. "I thought you'd laid the matter of Lady Selena to rest."

He had. He did. "Curiosity."

The arch of a single brow was filled with a question: Are you sure?

"Believe what you like," Warrick muttered.

"It's a pity she hates reading," Mortimer remarked. "You wrote quite the love note."

"I made a list. Hardly a love note."

"Do you have any regrets? You must have heard that Mandeville's tumbler exploded in his hand when he read your assessment."

"Proving my claim, no? That must have infuriated him even more." Warrick thanked the server when she brought his ale. "As expected, neither the list nor the wagers has left the walls of White's."

"We are not as sensational as the heiresses." Mortimer gave him an unreadable look. "Forgive me for pointing this out, but you look like hell."

"Well, thank you." He knew just how hellish he looked.

Mortimer's gaze flicked to his head. "Your hair seems—"

"Be careful now," Warrick cut him off while meeting his gaze. "Or I'll be meeting you at dawn."

"Still itching for the duel that was taken from you?'

He even knew that much. "That's right."

Mortimer chuckled. "I only meant to say I've never seen a head of hair as disheveled as yours." A small pause. "You said your biggest flaw was your receding hairline. It's not. Your hairline is just fine."

Warrick brushed lightly over the strands of his hair and grunted.

"If you don't believe me," Mortimer went on, "look at the hairlines of most of the men at events. You have nothing to worry about."

"I'll be sure to have a look next time."

Mortimer shrugged. "In my humble and perhaps unwelcome opinion, your biggest flaw is that you allow the people you care for to treat you as a sheep when your true nature is that of a wolf."

"A wolf you say..." Warrick took a big swallow of beer and almost spat it out at the duke's next claim.

"You are searching for a secret women's club."

Warrick set down his glass with a thump. "How the hell did you know that? Wait, you know about that group as well?"

The duke nodded, tapping his finger on the table. "I gathered that was why Lady Selena showed interest in this particular establishment. They weren't hiding their interest either."

"Don't tell me you are searching for the club as well?" What an unbelievable and terrifying prospect.

"I am a man of many interests."

"Most men are." A brief silence followed where the two men stared at each other. Warrick took another swallow of beer. "Lady Selena wants to join the club."

"I surmised as much."

Warrick's gaze swept over the interior of the tavern and settled on the sword hanging above the bar. "My instinct tells me they are trouble. And not the good kind." Was there even a good kind?

Yes.

Her mischief.

"Your instinct would be right," Mortimer informed him. "There is nothing good about them."

This was not the response Warrick was hoping for. For once, he wished he was wrong, that his instinct was just an excuse to hold onto a rope he should long ago have released. The last thing he needed was a real reason to return to her side, because he knew he would cross the line again. And she would cross it along with him. There was no denying it anymore—he was a bad influence on her. He indulged her and brought her over the line with him. He was too soft when it came to Selena Savage.

He cursed. "How the hell do I get her to give up this madness?"

"I'm sorry," Mortimer said. "I don't have the answers you are looking for. I'm no good with ladies."

Warrick glanced over to the duke's stiff posture. He could believe that. He sighed. "I just want her to be happy."

"That, I can understand." Mortimer's face turned thoughtful. "I suppose I ought to take your advice."

"About?" He couldn't recall that he ever imparted advice.

"Asking for the book. Explain my reasoning. Perhaps we can come to an agreement."

Ah, yes, he did say that. He didn't give a farthing about the book or the duke's reason for wanting it. "I wish you all the luck."

"Aren't you going to warn me off talking to Lady Selena?"

Warrick's brows furrowed. "Why would I do that?"

"Seems a theme amongst your friends so far."

"Yes, well, they are rather protective." Warrick smirked. "I suppose most men would feel threatened when a predator approaches their wife or fiancée or sister. Especially when the predator's intentions are unclear."

"Fair enough."

"You do have a way of infuriating people," Warrick pointed out.

"So my mother tells me."

Warrick chuckled. "Are you attached to your mother's hip?"

"It would be more apt to say she is attached to mine."

Another laugh. "On your case to take a wife?"

"Isn't it the life's goal of every mother to see her offspring married off?"

"Cannot argue that point."

A companionable silence settled over them, but Mortimer's words from earlier still stewed in Warrick's mind, poking at the center of his being. Did he allow the people he cared for to treat him like a sheep? One particular friend came to mind. A friend who had herded him straight into a pen that he might never escape from.

Allow.

Mortimer wasn't wrong.

He had allowed Saville to rope him into "protecting" his sister while he "protected" Lady Theodosia. And Warrick had permitted it in spite of his reservations. He had given in to many things.

He'd acted the sheep when his true nature, perhaps, was that of a wolf. No, not a wolf... but rather... a lion.

"I'll be damned."

He was a lion. A lion with a great bushy mane.

Not a sheep.

Perhaps it was time for him to roar.