Chapter Fifteen

October 14, 1812

Dear Mama and Papa,

You have probably been wondering why I have not written to you in the last few days. And that is because I have been greatly distracted by a gentleman by a man by an opportunity to earn more coin.

I know you disagreed with me when you learned I had come to Bath, but I hope I have proven over the last few weeks that I know what I am doing. I have come to no harm, and Mrs. Bryson is taking very good care of me.

But as I was saying—I have found an opportunity to earn more coin.

And yet I admit to having a moral quandary about it. I know I have not told you before because I did not wish you to worry, but I think I'm doing something wrong know I'm doing something wrong cannot extricate myself from this situation and

Dodo stared at the piece of paper under her fingertips, a furrow across her forehead.

She had been attempting to write this letter to her parents for over an hour, but whatever she wrote down, it did not seem to fit. There was so much she could tell them—so much that had happened during her short stay in Bath.

So much she would never have believed.

Attempting to explain how happy she was, without giving the specific details of why she was so happy, was turning out to be a great challenge indeed.

Dodo picked up an earlier version of the letter, skimming through it to see if there was anything there she could use.

Dear Mama and Papa,

You have undoubtedly been waiting for a letter from me for some time, and I must apologize for the tardiness. I have, however, an excellent reason for being delayed in my correspondence.

I have met a gentleman. I met him weeks ago, actually, and though I believed at first that he was a rascal and a rake—he is, of course, but he is so much more. Oh, the way George Chance makes me feel! I wish you could be introduced to him. I am certain you will be as charmed by him as I am.

He is actually the Earl of Lindow. I know, an actual earl! I do not believe an earl has ever come to Croscombe, and I can tell you now, in a way there is nothing much different between an earl and any other man.

Except that George is like no other man.

He is the most wonderful, the most excellent

Dodo placed the letter down. No, it would not do to tell her parents about George in that manner. Neither , she thought as a smile crept across her lips as she picked up another discarded draft, is this appropriate. Though in fairness, she had never intended to send this one to anyone.

I can't believe it. I have been bedded, thoroughly, by the Earl of Lindow. And he was so kind, so loving. I have never experienced such—

The pleasure, oh my goodness! Words cannot describe what he makes me feel. I have attempted to calculate the percentage increase of my happiness since George Chance entered my life, and I believe it to be at least a four-hundred-percent improvement.

Nothing makes me feel like he does. When he touches me, my whole body seems to come alive. It's like I've been dead, or asleep, waiting for him my whole life.

Enjoying amorous congress with him was like losing myself completely and finding myself all over again. He knows how to touch a woman to exact the utmost pleasure. If he asked me to stay in bed with him for a week, then I would.

The way he has with his fingers—and his tongue—I thought I would die when he

She had forced herself to stop there. Paper was not cheap, and the instant she'd realized there was no possibility whatsoever of permitting a living soul to see it, she'd had to halt.

Biting her lip, she looked at another draft. This one was more serious. She'd been unable to finish it, too.

Dear Mama and Papa,

I don't know what to do. I seem to have managed to get myself twisted up in a situation that is most unfortunate, and no matter what I consider, I cannot find a way out.

I have gained the trust of a good man—a rake, also, though that is not important—and I have been taking the information he has trusted me with and using it to bet against him. He owns horses and bets on them, not very intelligently in my opinion, and I seem to have accidentally created a gambling ring … against him?

I don't know how it happened. Two men I've encountered, Mr. Gregory and Mr. Gillingham, assured me they would only use my information to skim a little off the top, but now the earl is losing hundreds of pounds. I know he can well afford it—he is an earl, after all. The man probably wouldn't notice, except that he has such pride in his horses. And I can see how hard he is working, and it tears me apart to see him so frustrated.

But not enough to stop.

We need the money. Your illness has entirely changed the family, and Ellis—

I promised I would not write about him, but do you not think that never speaking of him again is only going to prolong our pain? Ellis would never have wished for us to pretend he had never existed. I've kept the painting you commissioned for my twenty-first birthday, and I look at it often.

The earl saw it the other day and gained quite the wrong impression. He was hurt, and it pained me to see him feel so despondent. And I'm doing worse to him, far worse, and he does not even know.

And one day, he'll discover that it's me, and I don't know what to

No, that one could not be sent, either. Dodo was not sure what her parents would think of the manner of her earning. They had not pried as to the source of the money she'd sent and she did not want to give them any more reason to send her aunt to collect her.

They think me genteelly playing whist at the best houses , Dodo thought with a dark smile. They had no idea that she had been to the notorious McBarland's. That she was betting on horses—betting with clandestine information. That she had been ravished by a handsome earl…

She permitted herself ten minutes of daydreaming about George. There weren't enough minutes in the day, in all honesty, to spend thinking about George. Every moment without him was a chance to think of him, so Dodo was having to ration herself. Ten minutes in the hour was more than enough.

Sighing happily at the thoughts she had indulged in, Dodo turned back to the letter. Or in truth, letters.

She really just needed to write a letter and send it. The fifty-pound note in her reticule, a frighteningly large amount of money, needed to be sent forthwith.

But what to say about George?

Dodo bit her lip. To disregard him and not include him felt wrong, somehow. He was such a part of her life, to have nothing about him in the letter to her parents seemed a huge injustice.

But nothing of the future had been spoken between them. No promises.

She had not asked for any, to be sure. But what would her parents say if they knew what she had already done…

Dodo held her head up high. They didn't need to know. Not yet.

Picking up her pencil, she wrote the shortest letter she could manage, while still being polite.

Dear Mama and Papa,

I hope you are well, and I apologize for the lateness of this letter. I have found myself incredibly busy here in Bath, and I hope you will forgive me.

Please find enclosed a fifty-pound note. It is probably the largest sum I shall send you, and I hope it will pay off the final debt to Doctor Hollister. Will he mix your medicines now? Is the mortgage still very pressing?

I have spent time at the racecourse with an acquaintance, George Chance, the Earl of Lindow. There is much to learn about horses and racing, with some fascinating opportunities to calculate speed alternating on corners and straights. Most satisfying.

I will write again soon, I promise.

Your loving daughter,

Dodo

Tilting her head, Dodo read back the letter and considered whether there was anything in there that was amiss.

No, not as far as she could see. She had mentioned George, but without the hint of intimacy that earlier drafts had included.

The fifty-pound note was a wonder to behold, and Dodo found herself distracted for a few minutes as she stared at the thing. She'd known they existed, of course, but to actually see one…

Then she folded it carefully right into the center of the letter. She would have to hope, as she sealed the note with a dab of wax, that no one would guess that the small, insignificant letter held something of such importance.

It would be a miracle if it arrived unscathed at Croscombe. The idea of that much money going into a letter, handed to some stranger who promised it would be delivered to her parents… It was a very odd concept, when one came to think about it.

The safest way to deliver it to her parents would have been to go herself.

A slow smile crept across Dodo's face as she leaned back in her chair, overlooking the decrepit conditions of the rooms she had taken.

But she couldn't waste that sort of money, could she? Going back to Croscombe just to hand over money would in and of itself be a waste of money. Not to mention she couldn't be sure her parents would allow her to leave on her own again, the promise of more money or not.

She rose, leaving the sealed letter on the small desk, and meandered over to the window. If the doctor's debts were paid, that left only the ongoing cost of her father's medication, and her mother's spectacles, and the mortgage.

Dodo's stomach churned as she looked out onto the street below. The mortgage. Why hadn't they told her they'd raised money on the old place? It was half falling apart at the best of times. To take out a mortgage on such a property, one the new vicar wouldn't dream of taking from her family, when her father was too ill now to perform the duties he once had as the parish vicar—

Her gasp caught in her throat.

There he was. George. He had just stepped out of a carriage, one with the Lindow livery painted on the side, and had glanced up at the window. Their gazes had met and that had been enough to expel all the air from her lungs.

Without giving a thought to how it may appear to others, most especially Mrs. Bryson, who had inquired after her "cousin" with what Dodo could only describe as a twinkle in her eye, Dodo darted down the stairs and out of Johnson's Buildings.

"Dodo!" George cried with evident delight. "I won!"

Dodo's eyes widened. "Won? You didn't. You won a race?"

It wasn't that she had no faith in George's horse-rearing abilities. The more she had gotten to know the man, the more she could see his passion. He had an interest in his horses most owners never had, and he spent far more time than any of them at the stables on the racecourse.

That did not guarantee, of course, that he would be any good at it.

But the idea that Honor of Guinevere or Scandal of Lancelot had actually won a race…

"Oh, we didn't win the race. That's a little far-fetched, even for me," said George, his grin wide.

Dodo tried not to laugh—she really did. It was most indecent for a lady and a gentleman to be laughing so openly together, in the street—and her, as ever, unchaperoned!

But she could not help it. George's open, affable features were spread into a knowing grin, his ability to laugh at himself one of the most attractive traits in him.

And there was a lot to be attracted to.

"No, I meant I won a bet," George said confidently, tapping the side of his carriage. It pulled away without him needing to say another word. "I was certain Scandal of Lancelot would come fourth, and he did! And that smarmy man who is always betting against me, whoever he is—he must have forgotten to bet!"

Evident delight was pouring off him, so strong, it was almost as though his horse had indeed won a race.

Dodo tried her best to reciprocate the obvious excitement George was feeling. "That… That's wonderful!"

It was a sharp reminder that she had completely forgotten to bet against him yesterday.

"And that smarmy man who is always betting against me, whoever he is—he must have forgotten to bet!"

Hearing herself described that way at all would have been rather unpleasant, but it was agonizing to have George say those words straight to her face.

He did not know. He certainly would not have used such strong language if he'd had any idea she was the one who had been "guessing" at the deficiencies of his horses the last few weeks.

"—absolutely certain he would do far better on a shorter distance," George was saying happily. "I spoke with my jockey and he agreed. It didn't appear to have paid off at first; we were a tad worried he'd overshot himself. On the third corner, you know the one, he peeled off to the left…"

Dodo swallowed, tasting only bitterness as her stomach twisted itself into knots. With all that had happened between them the last few days, the intimacies they had shared, the confessions of love they had exchanged…

"And I am desperately in love with you."

"And I-I'm desperately in love with you. Exponentially. At least fifty times more than I could have expected."

She had completely forgotten to speak with Mr. Gregory and Mr. Gillingham. They would undoubtedly be irritated with her—this may have been an excellent chance to win significant funds from George.

"—but I knew better than that, and the beast did marvelously right at the end," George was still speaking, rapture on his face. "There's nothing like it, honestly, Dodo. I imagine it's like you and your numbers—when it all comes together and it just works, there's no feeling like it in the world. Well. Not quite."

Dodo glanced up at her rooms in Johnson's Buildings. In there lay a letter for her parents that held fifty pounds. Fifty pounds she had won because she had betrayed George's trust.

And it was her lack of attention these last few days that had helped him win this money—that had made him so happy.

"Isn't it wonderful?" George was saying.

He reached out to embrace her, but the sudden passing of an elderly gentleman, his cane tapping along the pavement, forced them apart.

George grinned, sweeping his hair from his eyes. "I almost forgot myself there for a moment. Almost forgot we were out in public. That I can't… I can't touch you as I wish."

And perhaps those words would have enflamed Dodo's body, making her crave his touch even more—but she was still locked in a private battle of her own.

Whether or not to tell George the truth.

She had to, did she not? Whatever this love was going to become, she could not continue with any sense of honor. Could not use him, take the insight he so happily shared with her and use it to win coin against him at the races.

It was cruel. It was unfair.

And it was the only thing, short of begging for money, standing between her parents and ruin.

"Dodo?" George's voice was soft, and gentle. Just like him. "Are you quite well?"

Dodo managed to smile, but she could not make herself speak. She was being torn in half from the inside, knowing she should speak, admit everything to him… and at the same time, terrified that it would mark the end of whatever this was.

"I am your friend. I deserve to know—"

"You are not my friend."

She had been right when she had spoken those words, and they would still be true now. What they were to each other, she did not know. What George wanted from her in the long term, she could not tell.

But if there was to be any hope of them finding happiness in the future, of being together in the future…

Well. She would just have to tell him and hope he would understand.

"George," Dodo said, her voice breaking.

He nodded. "Yes?"

A pair of ladies walked past them on the pavement, running past so hurriedly that Dodo was buffeted about in their wake. When she looked back up at George, it was to see a gentle grin and mischievous eyes.

Her heart skipped a beat. How could she do it? How could she hurt him?

But telling him wouldn't be the hurting, would it? She had already done that. The damage had already been done. Now all that remained was for her to confess.

Something she had vowed to do yesterday, before she had been so delightfully distracted.

Dodo took a deep breath. "George, I have to tell you something—"

"I don't suppose," he began at the same time. "Sorry. Go on."

"No, no, what were you going to say?" said Dodo eagerly.

It was cowardly of her, she knew. She should persist, persevere through the pain that the conversation would undoubtedly create, and tell him.

But the chance to put off the inevitable, if only for five more minutes, was too tempting to avoid.

"No, you started speaking first," George said easily. "I really shouldn't have spoken over you. My sister-in-law Florence hates that."

A prickle of curiosity curled around Dodo. Was this the sister-in-law who was to have been her supposed chaperone at the concert? She had never actually met the woman.

She had heard about the Chance brothers, of course, from George. At least, a tad. It had been far easier to get information from Mrs. Bryson, who appeared to know everything about everyone in the ton .

The two older Chances had both married this year, and to ladies who on the face of it were not the sort of people to become duchesses and marchionesses. Dodo could not help but wonder about "Florence," or as she would have to address her if she ever met her, her ladyship the Marchioness of Aylesbury.

Her lungs tightened with the very thought. Meet George's family? Why, I would only do that if—

"Fine, I'll go first," said George cheerfully, clearly ignorant of the war that had been waging in Dodo's chest. "I wondered whether there was an outside chance that I could come in and… well. Eat."

Dodo blinked. Eat? It was three in the afternoon—did he believe she served herself afternoon tea? Surely not. The man had seen what sort of lodgings she had. He had to know that—

"I'm not hungry for food. I'm hungry for you."

Ah. Eat.

The look on George's face confirmed she had been on the right lines. There was a hunger in his eyes, a lustful yet loving expression on his face, that told Dodo she could be experiencing the delights of the flesh within minutes.

Hot warmth jolted to between her legs.

She swallowed. She really had intended to tell George precisely what she had been doing—to confess. She would have to soon. Attempting to keep these two parts of her life separate was going to become more and more difficult, particularly if his horses started doing better.

And yet the idea of saying no to this delectable man…

"I suppose there is an excellent chance my ‘ cousin ' can find something to eat," Dodo whispered.

George took a step toward her, closing the gap between them and making the air catch in her throat. "And I suppose, if you are very fortunate, you may find something to… to put in your mouth. I hope."

Dodo swallowed. She had wished to repeat that particular experience very much. There was nothing like taking George's manhood in her hands then placing it between her lips. The power, the exquisite pleasure she seemed to create, it was heady.

Her secret place throbbed.

"Right, then," she murmured, ignoring the passersby by who were undoubtedly looking at them curiously as they stood so close together. "A meal it is, then."

She knew her desire shouldn't get the better of her. Dodo had never had to fight off her desire like this before, never had to choose between what she wanted and what she needed to do.

But how could she possibly deny a man when he looked at her like that?

"I've missed you, Dodo," George murmured, taking her hand in his as though the world weren't watching, and pulling her toward Johnson's Buildings.

Dodo's stomach lurched. She would tell him. She most definitely would. Later. "And I've missed you."

"Not," he growled as they hurried upstairs, fortunately passing no others in the hallway, "for much longer."

Dodo wrenched open the door and pushed George through it. He staggered in, already attempting to pull off his boots by the time she'd closed the door.

"No," she agreed hungrily as George's fingers scrabbled at his buttons, dropping his breeches and revealing… "Not any longer."