Eleven

ELEVEN

Still in Templetons’ library

Several tense tick-tocks of the mantel clock later

Folding her arms tightly to her chest, Roxina pressed her lips together against the unladylike oath she longed to hurl at Shelby Tellinger. If she were a man, she’d punch his arrogant face and rearrange that perfectly straight nose for calling her a liar.

How dare he humiliate her in front of her dearest friend and Jackson Matherfield?

How odd to come upon Aubriella and Matherfield in the library.

Roxina knew full well that Aubriella had no liking for Jack. And that twaddle about teaching her hazard? Aubriella was a dab hand at the game. She didn’t need any instruction or practice.

No, something was too smoky by far.

Regardless, Roxina would deal with that business later.

She eyed Shelby from beneath her lashes.

Right now, she must face Shelby Tellinger, more infuriated than she’d ever witnessed him before. He’d been his usual standoffish, brooding self this morning. This evening, however, something had sent him into a proper froth.

Taking three deep breaths and counting to five with each inhalation and exhalation, as she taught herself when Mitchel was in one of his rages, she brought her racing heart and pulse under control. Raised voices, particularly males, nearly always caused her extreme anxiety. It brought back terrifying memories of her father shouting at Mama.

Mustering her equanimity and forcing calmness to her voice, she met Shelby’s infuriated glacial gray eyes.

“I told you, Shelby. I don’t know where Mitchel is. You, above all people, are aware he does not include me in his confidence. My brother lives his life, and I live mine. Actually, I’m surprised you don’t know where he’s off to. I thought you were chums and shared everything .”

Her sarcasm earned her another eviscerating scowl.

“Mitchel was remarkably closemouthed about his holiday plans. I presume he intended…” Shelby rubbed a long finger beneath his nose because no doubt what he’d intended to say was not meant for delicate ears. “Well, that he wanted seclusion and privacy.”

She rested a hip on the sofa’s arm. “Mitchel meant to engage in a season of holiday cheer and whoring?”

He didn’t appear shocked at her crude question, so then why pretend it wasn’t true?

Mitchel was the worst sort of profligate scoundrel.

Angling her head, she narrowed her eyes. “Or, perhaps, cuckolding some poor fellow.”

“I am not his keeper.” Tellinger laced his fingers behind his back, but his granite jaw belied his false tranquility. “Neither am I his confessor or conscience.”

Roxina had never seen him in such a state. Like a caged lion or panther, ready to spring upon its prey. Perched as she was on the sofa’s arm—mostly because her too-small second-hand shoes pinched her toes, and her feet were killing her—he seemed taller than his six feet, two inches as he towered above her.

“Well, I certainly am none of those either,” she retorted with equal rancor.

Suddenly weary, she placed a palm against her forehead where a niggling ache portended a migraine if she didn’t promptly find her bed. “I think he left around the thirteenth, but I cannot be sure. He rarely sleeps at the Gloucester Street house, and I only see him in passing every couple of weeks or so. I noticed his bedchamber door ajar, and clothing was strewn about as if he’d packed in haste.”

“Blast him to Hades.” Shelby paced away five steps, then stamped back to glower down at her. “I must find him.”

Roxina sighed and permitted her shoulders to slump an inch. “Why? What has he done that has caused you, his dearest friend, to turn on him?”

Did she really want to know?

“I am not his dearest friend. I watch him closely because he is an untrustworthy blackguard, and that is better done by spending time with him.”

“ Oh .” The breath left Roxina’s lungs in a rush.

What did she say to that confession?

“He impersonated me and forged my signature.” Shelby released a frustrated huff and scraped a hand through his dark blond hair. “He used my name and character to obtain a thousand-pound loan from a card sharp, which came due the fifteenth. The henchmen came round to collect yesterday. My butler promptly penned me a message.”

“Good Lord.” Roxina’s blood ran cold before she flushed with heat. “Mitchel is selfish and untrustworthy but to betray you in such a fashion…”

She spread her hands.

“I am truly sorry, Shelby.”

A thousand pounds.

A veritable fortune.

Could Shelby afford to pay the loan?

The consequences, if he couldn’t, might be dire.

He quirked a hawkish dark blond eyebrow. “I don’t suppose he has any funds or valuables at the house?”

She laughed; the sound almost hysterical to her ears.

“If he had, don’t you think I would’ve used them to pay the baker? Butcher? Grocer?” She gestured toward her gown. “Perhaps splurged and bought a couple of yards of fabric to make a new gown? This travesty was my mother’s, Shelby, and she’s been dead for a decade. I’ve remade this rag four times, and no one here isn’t aware of my reduced circumstances.”

If it weren’t for the earnings from the Ladies of Opportunity ’s betting book, she’d have starved long ago.

On the verge of tears, she swallowed and blinked rapidly.

I shall not cry in front of him.

Not him .

Shelby Tellinger, who had befriended the monster who tormented Roxina her entire life. Since the moment she came into the world and stripped her fourteen-year-old half-brother of his only child status, he’d put every effort into making her life miserable to pay for robbing him of that prestigious position.

Shelby sank onto the sofa and crossed one long leg over the other. Drumming his fingertips on the brocade arm, he contemplated her with such intensity that Roxina fidgeted and then stood.

“Well, if that is all, I shall excuse myself.” And make straight for her bed. Although, how she would sleep with the news Shelby just imparted, she couldn’t fathom.

“That is not all, Roxina.”

Of course, it wasn’t.

“He’s mortgaged your house to the hilt. I purchased the loan six years ago so you wouldn’t be evicted.”

Oh, my God.

It cannot be true.

But Roxina knew, deep in her soul, Shelby spoke the truth.

Her head spun, and she extended a hand to grasp hold of something so she wouldn’t crumple to the floor in a hysterical heap. She had a smattering of pride left, and to let Shelby Tellinger see her come undone—she couldn’t bear it.

Shelby shot to his feet and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Far gentler than she believed him capable of being, he guided her to the sofa.

“Sit down, Roxina. You’ve had a terrible shock.”

She licked her lower lip, afraid she might cast up her accounts. “You bought the mortgage?”

Six years ago?

Wasn’t that about the time he and Mitchel had become friends?

So, he had spoke the truth about their quasi friendship, too.

He gave a terse nod. “I knew he was a spendthrift and wouldn’t make the payments. And I also knew he didn’t give a tinker’s damn if he left you without a home.”

Tears burned behind her eyelids.

She’d been so awful to Shelby, and he proved himself a more decent human than her own flesh and blood.

He sat beside her and took her hand in his.

“I shall have to use the house and contents as collateral, Roxina. Not only haven’t I the cash to repay the loan at present, but I don’t have time to sell the house either. The type of people Mitchel borrowed from won’t wait until I can raise the funds. Until I can locate your brother and bring charges against him, I have no choice. Even then, it’s not likely I’ll recover any of the money.”

“Use the house as collateral?” She could barely force the words past her stiff lips. “What will become of me? Where will I go? I have no living relatives.”

“I shall think of something.” For the first time that evening, he directed a genuine smile toward her. “Trust me, Roxina.”

Trust him ?

A man she’d loathed for years?

He passed her a crisp, neatly folded, and starched handkerchief. “Here.”

So lost in misery and fear, Roxina hadn’t been aware tears trailed down her cheeks. She accepted the cloth—it smelled of sandalwood and cloves and him—and patted her face.

“I suggest you use discretion who you share this information with.” Kindness glinted in his eyes, warming them to a dove-gray shade. “We wouldn’t want to put a pall on the festivities.”

“Of course.” Roxina doubted she’d be able to enjoy the next two weeks. Especially knowing she’d shortly have nowhere to live. But she wouldn’t ruin the occasion for the others.

She stood on wobbly legs, Shelby’s handkerchief wadded in her fist.

“I’ll return your handkerchief after it’s laundered.” She’d wash it herself as she couldn’t afford the vails the other guests paid the servants. Her friends passed the expected coins to the domestics on her behalf.

She wore humiliation and chagrin like a second skin these days.

“It’s of no import.” He also stood, concern pleating the corners of his eyes.

She drew in a ragged breath.

“Thank you. I…” A fresh wave of tears threatened to engulf her, but Roxina swallowed them down. Shelby Tellinger would not see her weep again. “Please excuse me. I have a headache and need to lie down.”

“I am sorry, Roxina. Truly I am.”

Grief clogged her throat, and she could only nod as she fled the library and tore to the bedchamber, praying she didn’t encounter anyone along the way.

All this time, she’d loathed the man who had ensured she had a place to live.