Chapter Sixteen

Selena's heart chased the beats of the furious clatter of Warrick's coach as it rattled through the streets of London. Her wrist still tingled where he had led her away in an almost death grip. She rubbed the spot gently, absentmindedly.

He'd been late, so he hadn't heard. He didn't know.

Cut ties with Warrick.

How many times had she almost blurted the truth to him from the moment they entered carriage? But she had held back. A part of her wished he'd arrived sooner to overhear her conversation with that woman. Another part of her dreaded the very thing.

She snuck a look at the man's grim face. Guilt jabbed at her heart. She hadn't lied to him, she told herself. Everything she told him was the truth. Not the entire truth, but still part of the truth.

Selena, you fool.

She shouldn't have made it sound as if they had used each other. That was the only part that couldn't be further from the truth. But she had floundered. She hadn't known how to act toward him in the wake of hearing that woman's conditions. That one condition.

Everything she wanted was within her grasp, but the price was hefty. And if she paid it... it might just be the cost of a chunk of her soul. He hadn't been wrong there. He hadn't been wrong with many things.

"Are you cold?" His question came so suddenly she jolted.

"I beg your pardon?" She hadn't even noticed the cold.

"You're shivering." He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Heat spread across her cheeks. The action was so simple, so intimate, it made her heartbeat jump. But then his scent enveloped her, mocking her with the memory of all she desired but hesitated to claim.

"I'm sorry." He deserved this much. "I made things harder for you, didn't I?" She felt those dark eyes on her, but she couldn't meet them. She would not be able to hold back if she did. She would blurt everything out. "I should never have stayed."

"Why did you?"

"I'm not sure myself. I suppose I was curious—too curious for my own good." Curious about all things Phineas North. Curious if her heart would keep skipping beats for him. It still did. She wasn't sure it had ever stopped.

"I suppose I can't blame you," he murmured offhandedly. "If I were you, I'd be loath to leave a handsome man, too."

She snorted, a bit of the tension draining her body at his attempt at dry humor. "There is no such thing."

"When it comes to you, Selena Savage, there is no such thing as no such thing." A short pause. "We don't have to define terms if you don't want to, but what are we going to do about this situation we find ourselves in?"

Her eyes met his, and the burning in their depths intensified, refusing to leave her in peace.

Peace.

Lord, she finally understood why Warrick desired his peace of mind. Selena wanted nothing more than to fall back onto her bed, curl up surrounded by all of her pillows, and shut out the world.

However, that woman had robbed of any peace even if she were to do exactly that. "I realized something tonight," Selena said slowly, collecting her thoughts. "You are the reason I haven't been invited into the club."

"Me? How so? Is that what the person you met said? Is this what you meant when you said everything was my fault?" A brow shot upward. "You give me too much credit, Selena."

She shook her head. Revealing the woman's claim that they were lovers would open the conversation to the conditions of entering the club. She couldn't reveal this. Not yet.

Two days . . .

Just two days.

She would claim every minute of those two days and clear her head and consider her options.

"The credit is deserved," she replied simply. "You and your long legs, big head, and brawny shoulders are the reason I have not received an invite."

"It's astonishing how you can turn what ought to be a compliment into an insult."

The corner of her lips twitched. "But it's true." She leaned forward. "You speak of curses. Is there even such a thing? If there is, then you are as much my curse as I seem to be yours."

"Because I've been protecting you from fortune hunters?"

"Following me."

A stormy furrow gathered between his brows. "Protecting you."

"Why are protecting me in the first place?" She shot back, regretting the impulse as soon as the words left her mouth.

"Bloody hell, Selena. You know why. How long are you going to crucify me for that mistake? Yes, it's my scrawl on the list. Yes, I lost the list. I'm the reason the list made the betting book. But you should know better than anyone how easy it is to misplace a scrap of paper."

Selena let out a heavy breath. He wasn't wrong. She couldn't blame him forever. At some point, she had to let it go.

Cut ties with Warrick.

This man . . .

Who am I? Who are you? Who are... we?

Until she could answer those questions, she could not claim him, his heart, or anything else for herself.

She gave a curt nod, mostly to herself, but also in acknowledgment of him. "You are right, of course. It's time to let the past go. You made a mistake. All of you. You shouldn't be cast into the fire for it. Lord knows, mistakes are part of being a human." She'd made too many recently to count on all her fingers.

Fingers. Fingertips.

He slanted her a skeptical look. "You aren't just saying this to appease me, are you?"

Selena shook her head, her gaze dropping to her hands. "Anyone can lose a scrap of paper." Look at her. Hadn't she lost one, too? The very same one that led him to the warehouse.

Oh, lord.

She couldn't breathe.

If she had the world at her fingertips, why did it feel as though her world was slipping through them?

I can't do this right now.

She used one of her fingers to part the curtain covering the window. They'd already entered Mayfair.

"Please stop the carriage," Selena blurted.

"What? Why?"

She could hear the frown in his voice. The confusion. A tight vise gripped her throat. What was happening to her? She couldn't breathe.

"Please," Selena exclaimed. "Stop the carriage! I need it to stop." Need to get out.

He rapped on ceiling, signaling for the driver to draw the carriage to a halt.

"What's wrong?" She heard a rustle. "You look pale."

"I need to leave." The moment the carriage stopped she pushed open the door and leaped out, inhaling a deep breath of air.

"Where are you going?" Warrick demanded, climbing out after her. "We haven't arrived at your home yet. It's dark, Selena. Dangerous. Get back in."

"I'll be fine. Don't follow me." The coolness of the air relieved some of her anxiety. "You wish to get rid of your curse? Just get rid of me. There. Done. Curseless."

"What are you talking about? My curse is a family curse about marriage."

"Is that why you are here?" Stop, Selena. Don't say anymore. But the words still pushed past her lips. The fear. "You are looking for me to break the curse? Not Selena the curse, but Selena the curse breaker."

"What's wrong? Obviously, something happened that you're not telling me. I've never seen you as a curse breaker or whatever. I've only ever seen you as Selena."

What was wrong? Selena herself couldn't say. No, she could, she just didn't want to say it. So, she found something else to latch onto. Her only goal, her only aim at present, was to get to her bed.

"This is what you believe?" he continued. "You think I'm using you to break the curse?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "If we wed, your curse is broken."

"That's hogwash and you know it. Did you not enter my chamber on you own?"

"It doesn't matter anymore." Or it did. She couldn't find the right words. Her temples started to throb.

A loud curse. "It doesn't matter? What do I mean to you? Am I merely a pillow on your bed? Was I a method to a madness I do not grasp? I don't understand what is happening right now. I might even be the mad one."

No, he wasn't. This was her. "Let's stop here, Phineas."

"What do you mean?"

She still couldn't look at him. If she did, she might falter. Just two days... "Let's take some time to think about what who we are to each other."

"I already know who you are to me," he said softly. "I don't need time."

Oh, God. She could feel herself wavering. "Let's just take some time," she repeated, unable to find more words.

"I love you, Selena."

Her breath caught.

He . . . he . . . She shut her eyes, her entire body going numb at those three words. "How . . .?"

"How do I love you? Simple. You bring me torment."

She pressed the back of her palms against her eyes. "Torment is not love. Torment is torment."

"A man can only be tormented by a woman he is madly in love with," he denied. "And I love you."

Selena couldn't listen anymore. Her brain refused to digest his confession, could hardly form a sentence that made sense. "Let's speak about this later, all right?"

"Selena."

"Please." She lifted a hand to stop him saying anything more. She couldn't hear it. She didn't have the heart to. She didn't have the mind to. "Goodbye, Phineas."

*

Something was wrong.Very wrong. So wrong that the chill from their encounter hadn't yet left his body. What had happened between the time she'd left his house and the time he'd found her in the warehouse? Whatever it was, it was something that she didn't trust to tell him about.

A string of foul words flew from his lips.

He'd told the woman that he loved her, and she said they could discuss it later?

Why had he ever thought he could unravel the shroud of distrust that shackled Selena? He couldn't. Instead, he'd been the one to unravel, just as he'd originally feared. He was still bloody unraveling. The threads... he could feel them fraying as he lost his sanity, his heart, his very soul. What about her? He'd felt a palpable change in her that hadn't been present earlier that day. Hadn't even been present as she'd been dragged off by Saville.

Ah, Saville.

Even his closest friendship was on the brink of ruin.

Would this damn curse claim everything dear to him?

No, he refused to give that blasted word any more power. Curse? What curse? If Warrick were a cursed man, it was a curse of his own making. He had been so focused on everything that had gone wrong for him that he had been half blind to all that might go right. Had he even been open to anything but curses? The moment the first thing had gone wrong after he turned thirty, the idea of the curse settled into his mind, and he hadn't been able to push it back out.

Everythingturned into a curse.

And some of the wrongs had clearly been his doing. Ridding himself of this so-called curse would not be accomplished by marrying, and marrying would not rid him of his problems. He needed to begin righting wrongs.

Selena wanted space, so he would give her space even if it killed him. He'd start making amends with Saville instead.

With an apology.

He had crossed the line. Though he would not be badgered into marriage, he could have handled certain things differently.

The rain had stopped about the same time Selena had left him at the side of the road, but no one could escape the frosty nip this night brought. Despite the chill, he knew where his friend would be after a day like today, and he'd come straight here after following Selena from a safe distance to make sure she arrived home safely. Warrick jumped from the carriage the moment it drew to a halt strode over to his friend who sat on the bank staring off at the Thames River.

Saville didn't glance over his shoulder at his approach, just growled, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Can't I enjoy the riverside view?"

A snort. "How did you know I'd be here?"

"Did you forget we've been friends for years? I know the spots you go when you are near angered to death."

"I didn't forget anything. You are the one who forgot."

"You are right." He wouldn't deny his wrong in this.

"What the hell do you want? I'm not in the mood to chat."

Warrick settled in beside him. "I'm here to apologize."

Saville took a swig straight from the bottle of brandy he held in his hand. "Then marry my sister."

"I will."

Dark, skeptical eyes settled on him. "I've never heard a man change his tune so quick. Weren't you dead set on standing your ground earlier?"

Warrick picked up a pebble and flicked it into the river, watching the dark ripples grow bigger and bigger. "I'm not scheming. I'm telling the truth even while I'm still standing firm."

"But you will marry my sister?" Saville asked, looking over to him.

"In a heartbeat."

Saville's eyes narrowed. "When?"

This was the part his friend wouldn't like. "The moment she demands it of me."

"Bloody hell." Another swallow.

Warrick held out his hand. "Give me some of that."

"Get your own bottle."

"I didn't bring one."

Saville grabbed a second bottle Warrick hadn't noticed resting beside him. "Here." He tossed him the bottle, and Warrick caught it with both hands.

Warrick's brow pulled upward. "You brought two bottles?"

"Well, I was planning to drown myself in drink tonight. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No." Indeed, Warrick had no different idea. "I'll join you."

"I suppose my misery could use company."

Warrick uncorked the bottle and took a long swig. He welcomed the burn of fire trailing to his belly, and some of the chill vanished. Saville hadn't chased him away. Had brought two bottles. No man could drink two all by himself. He must have hoped for company. But he wasn't going to expose his hunch.

He took another swallow, watching Saville mimic his earlier action and tossed a pebble into the river. "I didn't plan for any of this to happen. You must know this."

"You didn't stop it either."

"No, I didn't." Another swallow.

"Your sister..." What to even bloody say? "I am hers. Everything else is—"

"Once again, you are ignoring the fact that I am her brother." Dark eyes moved to him. "Everything else is what?"

Warrick gave him a flat look. "Irrelevant."

Saville grunted. He traced the rim of his bottle with a finger, the action almost pensive. "Do you love her? Do you love my sister?"

Warrick couldn't help his brows from furrowing at the memory Saville's actions evoked. He sighed deeply. "I care for her deeply, yes." She had his heart, his everything.

"Then why wait until she demands marriage from you?"

"Your sister is not ready to decide what she wants." Whatever, whomever, that may or may not be. "Give her a moment to collect her thoughts."

"You mean unlock her bedroom door?"

As if a locked door could hold her.

"You really are clueless at times, my friend."

"You're one to speak.

Quite right. Warrick raised his bottle and clinked it against Saville's. "To clueless friends."

"Hear, hear," Saville said before tossing back liquid in this throat. "Ah, I love the sting." He looked to Warrick. "Anyone pinch your arse lately?"

"Don't bring up that bloody experience." Another swallow burned down his throat. "What about you? You seemed quite taken with Lady Theodosia. Have you perhaps fallen in love with the chit?"

"What the devil are you talking about? That woman drives me mad."

"That doesn't mean you don't care for her." Just look at him. He had fallen head over heels for his own tormentor. "And you are still following her around."

Saville blew out a breath. "No, I'm not. Not since her birthday."

That surprised Warrick. "Why not?"

His friend lifted his shoulders in a heavy shrug. "We set out to protect the heiress from the scum of London crawling out of the crevices."

Warrick nodded. "The consequences of the list."

"Yes, well, there are no longer fortune hunters sniffing around her skirts. She doesn't need my help."

"The lady is a force to be reckoned with," Warrick agreed.

"How the hell do I know what love feels like, anyway?" Saville muttered. "At the very least it should feel good. It's love, after all."

"I'm not sure if good is the word I'd use to describe the sentiment."

"Then what word would you use?"

"Not a word," Warrick said, contemplating his next sentence. "Rather, I'd describe giving my heart to someone feeling like I did the first time I raced my phaeton against you across Hyde Park at full speed. Only, I am not holding the reins. She is. It's both thrilling and terrifying at the same time."

"Bloody hell, are you drunk already?" Saville glanced at the contents of his bottle before looking back at the Thames. "It should still feel good. Poets are always going on about it."

"You haven't read a single page of poetry have you?"

"Why the hell would I do that?"

"Never mind," Warrick said. Hopeless. Why wouldn't these Savages read? "And who are you calling drunk? I can go all night."

"Then whoever is overcome first has to carry the other to the carriage."

"Are you a bloody child?"

Saville shot him a glare. "Why yes, I am a child. I am infantile, remember? Besides, are you afraid you won't be able to carry this child?"

He shouldn't have said anything. Just ignore it. "Then you are planning on being overcome first?"

Saville snorted. "Of course. I've got half a bottle on you already. Unless you plan to pour half down your throat now."

"No, I—"

A woman's laughter interrupted him, followed by, "Well, well, well, whatever do we have here?"

Warrick shot a glance over his shoulder, his brow furrowing at the appearance of four cloaked figures. Three wore black cloaks. One wore a sickening shade of red. It reminded him of blood. By their stature, they were all women. A sense of foreboding filled the space between the beats of his heart pounding in his chest. The secret club?

"Who the hell are you?" Saville growled.

"Oh," the woman in red said, "we shall get to it soon enough, but first you shall have to come with us."

Were they being kidnapped?

"We are not going anywhere with you." Saville stretched out a leg lazily. "Run along. You weren't invited to the party."

Four pistols appeared from beneath the cloaks and pointed straight at them. "As you can see, we are not giving you a choice."

"Well, why didn't you just start with that?" Saville asked, stumbling to his feet. He swayed. "We don't want any trouble."

Dear God.

"Warrick, dear," the woman said. "You, too."

Warrick, dear?Why did her voice sound so familiar?

"Warrick, dear?" Saville arched a brow at him, his eyes shooting daggers. "Love is truly grand."

"Don't start. I have no clue who this woman is." Warrick studied the figures. "But I suspect you are from the secret club that has recently surfaced in London."

Soft laughter filled the air. "Why, you are correct. I must say, I never thought Lady Selena would tell you about us. I daresay that's where you heard about us, is that correct?"

Warrick paused. This had to be the woman Selena had met at the warehouse.

"My sister?" He looked at Warrick then back to the women. "What does my sister have to do with you?"

"Oh dear, the Earl of Saville doesn't know anything," the woman murmured. "How interesting. But to answer your question, my lord, your sister has everything to do with us. She is, after all, in possession of something we want."

"What the devil could Selena have that you want?" Warrick demanded. Did this have something to do with how she acted after he retrieved her from their meeting?

More laughter rang out. "She told you about us, but she didn't tell you about this? What an interesting girl. It seems she might be leaning toward meeting our conditions to join us after all."

"My sister will do no such thing," Saville bit out.

Her hooded head turned to Saville. "That is not up to you, my lord."

"What, no Saville dear, for me?" he mocked.

"Of course not, that endearment is meant only for my lover."

Warrick froze.

Her what?

Him?

The sting of steely eyes settled on him once more. "Don't look at me like that. I only have one lover and that's—"

"That's?" Saville's entire body puffed up. "That's who?"

Warrick clamped his mouth shut. No need to poke the bear again. He turned to the women. "Why kidnap us?" She'd mention conditions. He didn't have a good feeling about that at all. "What do you want?"

"Insurance, Warrick, dear. Insurance." She motioned with her pistol to a carriage waiting in the street beyond. "On you go."

On you go?

Just like that?

What the hell was happening right now?