Chapter Sixteen

October 15, 1812

The right place to do it was the smoking room.

That much was obvious to George. They had spent so many happy hours here, after all. Before they had found an understanding, this was the place where Dodo had taught him—fine, attempted to teach him about mathematics.

George wasn't sure whether his card-playing skills were any better than they had been before, to tell the truth. It was damned hard to concentrate when someone like Dodo Loughty was talking to you.

It was where they had shared their first kiss. Where she had opened up, just a little. And since they had discovered their mutual delight in taking off each other's clothes and enjoying amorous congress, it was a place where they had retreated when it was no longer acceptable for him to keep turning up at her rooms in Johnson's Buildings pretending he was merely a visiting "cousin."

George knew his servants had guessed at the… at the activities he and Dodo had taken to occupying their time. They had certainly witnessed her turning up time and again without a chaperone. But they didn't know . They couldn't know .

Thank goodness his great-uncle, the pervious Earl of Lindow, had installed such thick paneling around the room.

So when it came to choosing a place to do it, he wanted to choose somewhere private and somewhere personal to them.

The smoking room at Lindow House was perfect.

George sat, then immediately stood up again. His ears were pricked for any indication she had arrived.

He glanced at the grandfather clock. He had asked her to be here at two o'clock, and it was five minutes to. She was not one to be late—at least, he had never known her to be.

That was what was so exciting about Dodo. There was still so much to discover. So much to learn. So much to enjoy.

Excitement thrummed through his body as George nervously paced around the room.

What would she say when she knew?

It was a ridiculous question. George knew precisely what Dodo would say—what she would feel. The only real question was, how would she express her gratitude?

His manhood twitched, but he forced himself to think cool, calming thoughts until the instinct went away. He wasn't expecting that , certainly. At least, he wasn't expecting it. If Dodo wished to, on the other hand…

The door to the smoking room opened and a flushing Dodo appeared in the door way.

"Miss Loughty for you, my lord," said Northrup with a raised eyebrow.

George ignored him. There was only one figure in that doorway who interested him. "You're here! You're late."

A swift glance at the clock told him she was, in fact, a whole three minutes late.

The color on Dodo's cheeks darkened and she looked, not at himself, but at his butler.

George halted in his tracks. He had been approaching Dodo at speed, intending to pull her into his arms for an embrace the instant Northrup closed the door behind them.

But his servant was still standing in the doorway, and Dodo seemed… upset.

His jaw tightened. "Why are you late, Dodo?"

He had not intended the question to come across as a barking interrogation, but it had. Dodo was distressed, pressing her lips together in a posture of great discomfort.

And his butler had not departed.

"I was merely informing Miss Loughty, my lord, that there was talk amongst the servants due to her frequent unaccompanied visits," said Northrup blankly, as though informing his master of the weather. "That was all."

That was all?

George halted before them both, trying to slow his breathing and doing a very poor job of it.

The devil take the man! What in blazes did he think he was doing, lecturing a woman far above him in station about her comings and goings? What was it to his butler whether a woman visited him or not?

Glancing at Dodo, he saw her eyes downcast and her hands clasped tight together.

Oh, hang it all. There was only one way to resolve this, and though he may regret it later, he very much doubted it.

This could not be allowed to continue.

True, he had dismissed the idea of the butler being the one to leak information about his horses—the man could not have known enough about them. But there were other things that had bothered him for too long.

"Northrup," George said smartly. "Pack your bags."

The butler inclined his head. "I shall instruct your valet to pack your bags, my lord. Where shall I tell him you are going?"

" I am not going anywhere, but you are," said George, his jaw tight and every word an effort. "I said to pack your bags. You are dismissed."

The man's mouth fell open. To his right, Dodo's head jerked up with a look of horror.

"I beg your pardon, my lord?" said his butler, his eyes blinking rapidly. "You cannot possibly mean—"

"Please do not presume to know what I mean, just listen to what I say," George snapped. "I'm tired of it, Northrup. Complaints from other servants, having to put up with your inconsiderate nature—then you offend one of my guests? No, it's gone too far. I shall write you a reference, if you wish."

There was a strange sort of ringing in George's ears. He did not regret what he had done—in fact, he felt a tad ashamed he had not done it sooner. The Lindow household would be a great deal happier, he suspected, with a more pleasant butler.

Still, there was a strange sort of giddiness in his head he could not understand.

Perhaps it was because, for the first time in his life, he had made a decision about his duties as master of the house. He'd just left things to Northrup, for years, and to his steward and the rest of the staff in the countryside.

For the first time ever, George had made a change without reference to Cothrom, or to Northrup, or to anyone.

He stood proud, chest puffed up. And it was all because of Dodo. She saw in him something he had never seen in himself. She made him want to be a better man!

Already, a cloud of sullenness had dropped over his butler's face. "Very good, my lord."

"I shall give you three months' wages, as a courtesy, but I want you out of the house by dinner," George said quietly. "Thank you, Northrup."

The man stepped back, closed the door behind him, and left George and Dodo alone.

The silence of the room was almost deafening. George blew out a long, slow sigh. "Well, that was—"

"I hope you have not done that merely for me," Dodo blurted out swiftly, her cheeks still red. "I suppose he thought he was protecting you, protecting your name. I do not wish him to lose his position merely because—"

"It has been a long time coming, I assure you," George said hastily. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel guilt for such a thing. "This is not the first strike against him. Come, come sit."

His excitement was bubbling up again, uncontrolled, unfocused, over another matter entirely.

He was proud of himself. It had not been easy, getting all of this sorted. From the very moment the idea had occurred to him, he had known it would be difficult, but he had never imagined it would be so complicated.

But it was done now—and he could finally reveal to Dodo precisely what he had achieved.

There was a teasing look in her eye as she carefully sat in the seat he had pointed out. Her seat, in fact. The seat she always sat in when they were playing cards together.

"Your note sounded as though you had news of some sort," she said, leaning back in the chair and looking more relaxed. "I wondered whether you had done something rash and purchased a third horse."

It certainly was a little rash , George admitted to himself, at least at first . But the more he had progressed along the path, the more it had become clear. This was the right thing to do. And Dodo would never be able to stop thanking him for it.

"I have not bought another horse," he said aloud. "Though it is an excellent idea."

Dodo's eyes sparkled. "And you don't think you have enough to be getting on with, with the two horses that you have already?"

He snorted. "Not by half."

And that reminded him—he would have to ask someone to look into that again. There was most definitely someone spilling secrets, someone in the stables. How else would this blaggard, whoever he was, be able to bet so carefully against him?

That would have to be the first thing he did after… after this.

"Well?" Dodo prompted. "What is it?"

George could hardly contain himself with elation but managed to sit in the chair beside Dodo's. He took a deep breath.

Here it was, then. His chance to show her, beyond a shadow of a doubt, just how he felt for her.

And there was no better way than this. Not even the prospect of one day protecting her honor.

"I had a letter this morning," he said, trying to keep his voice level. "From a doctor."

Dodo waited expectantly. "And?"

"From a Doctor Hollister," George said quietly.

He watched her carefully, wanting to drink in every moment of this conversation. He would never be able to have it again, after all. He wanted every heartbeat to imprint itself on his memory, like a painting. He would stroll down this gallery of memory time and time again.

Dodo's eyebrows raised. "Goodness, what a coincidence. That is the—I mean, I know a Doctor Hollister."

George shifted in his seat. "I know. His… His letter to me arrived at breakfast confirming that the final part of my plan had been executed, and I am delighted to say, with success."

She was laughing now, apparently overwhelmed by his exuberance. "Are you just going to tell me what you've done, George, or do I have to tease it out of you?"

Biting back the words that he would very much like her to tease it out of him, George hesitated, just for a moment.

He had rehearsed this. Oh, that sounded far more ridiculous than it actually was, but still. He knew this piece of news would be monumental—would radically change Dodo's life. And he wanted to give her that elation.

The important thing , he told himself sternly, is saying it.

"I have paid him."

Dodo blinked, clearly waiting for the rest of his sentence.

Blast. That didn't explain it at all. "What I mean to say is, I have paid him for your parents' treatment."

The laughter on Dodo's face started to quiet. Her smile started to fade.

She's clearly overcome by shock , George thought triumphantly. And she didn't even know the best part yet!

"And he informed me your parents had built up quite a few debts in—Crumbscome, I think it's called?"

"Croscombe," whispered Dodo.

It was more of a wheeze than a whisper. George congratulated himself on such a perfect way to tell her. Oh, she will never forget this.

"So I paid them," he said promptly, his grin widening. "And I paid off their mortgage, too—you never mentioned they had to mortgage their home, so awful—and I have given Doctor Hollister a thousand pounds, against any future needs they may have!"

George ended on a jubilant note. As well he might. It was an absolute coup, the perfect way to show Dodo just how much he loved her. The best gift he could offer before asking for her hand.

Well, of course, there were other gifts, like the things he'd like to do to her again—

Dodo rose from her chair so swiftly, it tipped over onto the floor. The dull thump echoed around the smoking room, as did her footfalls as she staggered away from the card table.

"Dodo?" George said hastily, rising to his feet.

This had somehow all gone terribly wrong. Unshed tears stung her eyes. Instead of looking delighted, as he had expected, she looked… mortified. Upset. Almost—no. She would not be offended at such an act of devotion, would she?

"I thought you'd be pleased," he said recklessly, not sure whether to start after her or stay where he was. "I thought—your parents, I know you care so much about them, and—"

"That must have cost you a fortune," Dodo breathed, her voice catching in her throat.

Oh, is that it? She was worried, perhaps, that it was going to take a great deal out of his coffers? Well, he could soon put that concern to bed.

"Only about three thousand, I assure you," said George, taking a cautious step toward her. She took a corresponding step back. "And it's really nothing to the Lindow estate, honestly. Yes, I hadn't expected to lose so much on the races this autumn, but—"

There was a sound from Dodo that was almost a groan. It sounded akin to despair, as though she could not believe what she was hearing.

"You should not have done such a thing!"

George stared wildly, unable to understand what was happening. "What do you mean? Why shouldn't I—"

"Earls do not go around paying off debts for women's parents!" Dodo said, her hand at her breast, as though her heart were in danger of launching itself from her body. "Three-Three thousand pounds?"

"It's nothing," George said, his stomach dropping. "I wanted to do it—I wanted you to know your parents were well cared for!"

" I was caring for them!"

"I didn't mean—hang it, Dodo, I thought you'd be delighted," he said, irritation seeping into his words.

Because it didn't make sense. Anyone else would have been grateful, would have thrown themselves on him with gratitude. Would have asked him how he had managed to do such a thing, perhaps, and he could regale them with the tale of tracking down all Loughtys—not a common surname—and finding them in Crumbscome. Or wherever it was.

But Dodo?

She was staring as though he had done something awful. As though he had transgressed some sort of line. Had offended her, wounded her.

And George could not understand where he had gone wrong.

"You should never have done such a thing," Dodo was saying, still keeping ten or so feet away. "It was not your place to—you've already done so much. You shouldn't have—"

"I haven't done anything, except lose a few pounds to you over the card table," George said, trying to laugh. "Dodo, my darling, you're overreacting. Perhaps I should have told you, but—"

"I've taken hundreds of pounds from you already!"

Her words shot out into the silence and she clasped her hands over her mouth.

George stared. "Hundreds… Hundreds of pounds? You can't have."

The lessons hadn't amounted to that much. Dodo, his mathematical genius, had miscounted. She didn't know what she was saying. The shock of such a gift, of such thoughtfulness—

"I'm the one who has been betting against you, all this time," Dodo said, eyes sparkling with tears, lowering her hands just enough to speak. "I've lost you all that money—I listened to what you said about y-your horses, a-and I've been betting against you, George!"

And he stared.

No. No, it couldn't have been. It wasn't possible. He trusted Dodo, knew her as he had never known any other woman. He had been more open with her than he had ever been, even with his own brothers.

Even Aylesbury did not know so much about him—did not know the real him.

And now she was saying she had…

"No," George said quietly, unable to say anything else. "No. No—"

"I didn't mean—well, I suppose I did mean to, but I never expected it to get so out of hand." Dodo exhaled, a single tear now falling down her cheek. "I thought, a few pounds here and there. It wasn't your money—"

"It… You listened to me talking about Honor of Guinevere and you…" George shook his head, as though that would clarify matters. "No. No, you wouldn't do that to me, Dodo."

Because if she had—if the one person he had trusted, truly trusted with his affections could do such a thing…

Another tear cascaded down her cheek. "I needed the money, and I thought it would be the racecourse that would lose the money, I didn't realize for a time that you were also betting and would therefore lose—"

"But then you did know—I did tell you, Dodo." George's chest was tight, every breath agony. This couldn't have been happening. No.

"And Mr. Gregory and Mr. Gillingham, they said that it wouldn't matter, that a few others—"

"You told other people? You involved them in this—this scheme?" George said harshly.

The pain within him was building and had spiked the instant she had mentioned the names. He knew of those men. He had almost warned Dodo not to gamble against them, for fear of what they might do—and to learn she had been gambling with them!

The plain fact of the matter was, no matter how much he did not like it, he had to face it.

Dodo had created a gambling ring against him, using his information. His tips.

Oh, dear God. And he had thought it someone in the stables.

"How could you—why would—" George stepped forward, desperate to be closer to her and at the same time, growing in pain with every step. "Why would you do this to me, Dodo?"

"I tried to tell you, before—"

"I didn't ask why you didn't tell me—I asked why you would do this to me !" he snapped, his temper finally pushed over the edge. "But yes, as you mention it, why didn't you confess this to me before we—"

He did not need to say it. George could see in Dodo's eyes that she understood.

Before they'd been united, physically and beyond. Before they had confessed their love. Before he had felt closer to her than anyone in the world.

"I trusted you." George had not intended to sound so pathetic, but apparently, he was. He had been thinking marriage—he, the Earl of Lindow, the renowned rake, marriage! To safeguard her honor, after what they had done. Because… Because he had never felt like this about a woman before.

All the trust he had placed in her—he had never dreamed, never considered that there was an outside chance she was using him.

Because that was what it was, wasn't it? Dodo—no, Miss Loughty had used him. From the moment they had sat together at a table at McBarland's, she had calculated precisely what she could get from him.

And he, the fool, had given it to her.

"I trusted you," George repeated, his voice cracking. "And I—"

"I don't know why," Dodo said, her voice suddenly harsh, full of pain. "I never told you that you could!"

George swore under his breath as he turned away, certain he would say something he regretted if he did not.

"You are the most difficult woman to love!" he exploded, turning back to her. "Damnit, Dodo!"

"Then don't love me!" she said, tears streaming down her face now, her expression a picture of sorrow. "Don't love me, George. Don't love me anymore."

"Dodo—"

But he wasn't able to get to her quick enough.

Before George had taken four paces, Dodo had turned on her heels and fled. No one could have run faster. He heard the front door slam moments afterward. And there he stood, in the middle of the smoking room, alone.

All his plans, all his hopes for how this conversation would go. He had never considered it could go so badly wrong.

The spiteful words which that been spoken so recently fluttered around him, reminding him of the disaster this conversation had become.

He had wanted to show her, really show her, how he cared about her. Telling her about the financial rescue of her parents, that had been the first way. And as for the second…

Shoulders slumped, George stepped quietly across the room to the bureau. The key was in the lock and it turned quietly, well-oiled and cared for. In the top compartment was a small box that he pulled out and looked at carefully for a minute in silence.

Then he opened the box. A large pearl attached to a gold band, encircled with diamonds, sparkled up at him.

"Well, hell," George said quietly, his heart breaking. "Now what on earth am I supposed to do?"