Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

A fter leaving the park, Lazarus had spent a few hours in a dither. Closeting himself in his study, he’d drunk two glasses of whisky. Almost two glasses. He’d stopped because it wouldn’t serve him to have a clouded mind. He needed a plan, and he needed it fast.

He realized he also needed help.

Which was how he found himself knocking on Droxford’s door. Not only was he the best person to advise him—he would keep an even head—but he was likely the only one home this evening. Shefford and Price and likely Keele would be at the Phoenix Club assembly or someplace else. And Wellesbourne had his hands full with a new child.

Droxford’s butler admitted him and a few minutes later showed him to the study where the baron was working. “Evening, Somerton,” Droxford said, standing from behind his desk. “This is a surprise. Shouldn’t you be at the Phoenix Club?”

“I don’t go out every night.” Actually, he did practically, so to act as though he didn’t was a bit disingenuous. But he wasn’t here to discuss his social activities. “I am in need of advice on a very…delicate matter.”

Droxford’s brows shot up. “I see. Let us sit.” He gestured to a pair of chairs angled near the hearth. “Do you want a drink?”

Lazarus shook his head. “No. I’ve had enough whisky.” He sat down on the edge of the chair, nervous energy coursing through him.

“It’s a whisky problem, then.” Droxford sat opposite him. “Whatever you tell me will be kept between us.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that more than I can say.” Lazarus exhaled as he ran his hand through his hair. Too late, he realized he’d ruined his valet’s careful styling, but it wasn’t as if he were going anywhere else. And surely Droxford didn’t care if he appeared impeccable or not.

Hell, Lazarus was prevaricating in his own bloody mind. He met his friend’s gaze. “A woman I met at a fox-hunting party says I got her with child. I don’t remember taking her to bed. I don’t even remember kissing her. And I definitely don’t remember wanting to do either of those things, let alone actually doing them.” He’d spoken more quickly with each statement, a sort of panic rising within him.

“That is…troubling. But you recall her from the party?”

“I do. She is the granddaughter of the host.”

“I received an invitation to this party, I think, though I declined,” Droxford said. “Lord Haverstock’s fox-hunting party?” At Lazarus’s nod, he blew out a breath. “I would not want to run afoul of Haverstock. His temper is quite nasty. I got into a rather vicious argument with him once about the impact of the war on the price of food, and he was most belligerent in his ignorance.”

Lazarus only knew him socially. That was because until recently, Lazarus hadn’t been seriously engaged in his position in Parliament. Hearing this made his stomach knot. “That is not encouraging.”

“Does he know about the babe?” Droxford asked.

“No, nor does her father. Her mother does, however.” Lazarus thought of the woman’s icy glare in the park that afternoon. Perhaps the entire family had horrible tempers.

“This party was, what, last November?” Droxford flattened his lips. “Why is she only telling you now?”

“She’s been ill. Or so she says.”

“You don’t believe her?”

“I’m not inclined to believe any of her claims. Drox, I don’t remember fucking her .”

Droxford’s brows rose again.

“My apologies,” Lazarus murmured. He’d forgotten that Droxford didn’t really curse. He’d never once, as far as Lazarus could recall, uttered any version of the word fuck .

“I don’t mind swearing. I just rarely do it because my father beat it into me that such words came from the devil’s mouth.” Droxford sniffed. “So, you don’t recall bedding her, and you think she may be lying. I do find it odd that she waited so long to approach you, ill or not. Surely her mother could have spoken to you.”

Lazarus hadn’t considered that. “She’s given me until Monday to make my offer of marriage. If I don’t, she’ll tell her father and grandfather.”

“Nothing like a little extortion to make one’s story more believable.” Droxford scowled. “Why would she not tell them straightaway?”

“She is trying to cover up the pregnancy entirely. She suggested we remove to the country after we are wed—with due haste—until well after the child is born so we can be vague about the timing of its arrival.”

“She has a plan,” Droxford noted.

“I thought the same thing.”

“And you are her pawn.” Droxford’s brow creased into deep furrows. “Are you prepared to marry her?”

“I don’t want to.” Lazarus felt hopeless.

“But would it be the worst thing? You will need to marry at some point, yes?”

“Yes. But not her. I don’t know her. I don’t even find her attractive.” Because as of recently, no one appealed to him aside from a sable-haired, dark-eyed beauty who tripped over her own feet and whose laugh sounded like a sunbeam. If they had sound.

“Let us talk through what will happen if you refuse to marry her. She will tell her father and grandfather. I can guarantee her grandfather will try to force the marriage. He may even bend the prince regent’s ear and try to convince him to compel you.”

Lazarus felt queasy. “He can’t make me marry her.”

“No, but he can end your life as you know it. You won’t be invited anywhere. Your position in the Lords would be compromised—in that you would become largely ineffective as many members will refuse to associate with you. And of course, your family would be affected.”

His mother. His sisters. Their husbands. Their children .

“Your wife,” Lazarus whispered, horrified that this terrible situation could touch sweet Tamsin, who’d so recently found happiness.

“Perhaps,” Droxford said with a grimace. “I won’t lie. I think you may just need to marry this woman. Unless, are you certain you didn’t bed her?”

“No, I’m not certain.” Lazarus leaned one elbow on the arm of the chair. “I went to a pub with Sheff one night, and we got so drunk, I don’t remember a thing. I don’t even know how we ended up back at the estate. I was completely worthless the following day. And I think we left the day after that.”

“Does Sheff remember anything?”

Of course Lazarus should ask. He’d thought of Shefford in the park earlier and should have gone directly to his apartment at the Albany. “I’ll find out.” Lazarus would hunt him down later.

“I propose you take the next couple of days to try to determine the truth. She is definitely expecting?” Droxford shook his head. “I hate asking that.”

“I know. I hated thinking it. She was careful to show me her abdomen.”

“Well then, you try to discern if it really could have been you. Perhaps Sheff will be able to provide you with an alibi.”

God, that would be lucky.

“But you also need to consider what you’ll do if presented with proof that you did, in fact, bed her. You’ve no idea what Sheff remembers.”

Lazarus’s momentary excitement vanished. He couldn’t marry Miss Worsley. Not just because he didn’t want to, but because he was in love with Gwen. He wanted to marry her .

But if he refused to wed Miss Worsley, and her family told everyone he was the father of her child, Lazarus wouldn’t be able to marry Gwen. She wouldn’t want him. He wasn’t even sure she wanted him now. He was already a rogue . Miss Worsley’s allegations made him out to be a complete blackguard. He wouldn’t be fit to be anyone’s husband.

How had he ever thought he was good enough for Gwen? He’d behaved poorly with her, giving in to his baser desires. Never mind his past transgressions, which perhaps included fathering a child on an innocent young lady.

“I can see this weighs heavily on you,” Droxford said with sympathy. “I’m sorry this has happened. I hope Sheff is able to help.”

“I hope so too.” Lazarus got slowly to his feet. “I appreciate your counsel, Drox.”

“I wish I could do more. Hopefully, all will turn out right.” He clasped Lazarus’s shoulder in a rare show of support or perhaps even affection.

“Thank you for your discretion. You’re a good friend.”

“We are all in need of discretion at one time or another,” Droxford said cryptically. “That’s what friends are for.”

Lazarus nodded, then departed in search of Shefford. He prayed his friend hadn’t been as inebriated that night and could remember what happened. If he didn’t, Lazarus feared he was ruined.

T hough Gwen had not received a response to her invitation from Lazarus, she went to Tamsin’s anyway, hoping he would come. She hadn’t included the reading exercise in the note to Lazarus because she hadn’t finished it yet. But it was now complete and tucked in her pocket.

Tamsin received her in the drawing room upstairs. “I got your note, of course,” she said without preamble, bringing Gwen to sit with her on the settee.

Gwen had also dispatched a missive to Tamsin that morning saying she needed to meet Lazarus at her house that afternoon. “Thank you for letting me descend upon you with little notice. And for not being angry with me for not even really asking.” She grimaced faintly.

“There is no need to thank me,” Tamsin assured her. “Your note said you needed to speak with Somerton about a matter of urgency. Is everything all right?”

“I hope it will be,” Gwen said. “I find I don’t want our association to be over. In fact, I’d rather it continued. Perhaps in a more…intimate manner.”

Tamsin’s eyes rounded. “Oh! Has something happened since you kissed him at the literary salon?”

“I’ve realized I have developed a tendre for him,” Gwen confessed. “I’m rather smitten, to be honest.” She felt warmth in her cheeks, but didn’t care. It wasn’t from embarrassment, but from the excitement of sharing that with one of her dearest friends. “How did you know you had feelings for Droxford? I know it wasn’t before you wed, given the manner in which you had to marry.”

“Actually, I had started to fall for him by then,” Tamsin said with a shy smile. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but my father’s proposal that I wed followed by my acquaintance with Isaac showed me an enticing future I hadn’t considered. I know Isaac appears brusque and brooding, but to me, he has always been drily witty and exceptionally caring. Almost from the moment we became acquainted, he made me feel protected and important. He was the first person outside my family and my closest friends who really saw me, if that makes sense.”

“It does, actually. I feel that way about Lazarus. He doesn’t care that I can’t dance or will likely spill a drink on his favorite waistcoat. And when he planned that special evening, taking me to the literary salon…” Gwen couldn’t help grinning. “Well, that was definitely when I began to feel differently about him.”

Tamsin grinned too. “That’s so lovely.”

But Gwen sobered rather quickly. “I just don’t know if he feels the same. I mean, he’s a rogue. He’s never given any indication that he wants to marry.”

“Neither did Isaac. Even after we were wed,” Tamsin added wryly. “If you recall, he wanted a marriage in name only. I can’t imagine my cousin would want that, however. Particularly since you’ve already kissed. You are way ahead of where Isaac and I were.”

“I know you and Lazarus aren’t close, but have you never heard him discuss marriage?” Gwen asked. Her mother’s counsel, that Lazarus wouldn’t be a good husband, lingered in the back of her mind, but while Gwen wanted to please her parents, she also couldn’t deny her own feelings. “I assume he’ll have to wed at some point. Doesn’t he need an heir?”

“Yes, and while my grandmother has laughingly said he’s sowing his oats, she did indicate at Christmas that it’s time he settled down. My aunt—his mother—agrees and had hoped he would take a bride this Season.” Tamsin lifted a shoulder. “You never know what will happen. Are you planning to tell him how you feel? Is that why you wanted to see him today?”

Gwen nodded. “But I’m so nervous. What if he laughs at me?”

“He won’t! And if he does, I’ll kick him. Repeatedly.” Tamsin patted Gwen’s hand and gave her an encouraging nod. “Perhaps he feels the same about you and he will make his mother and our grandmother happy by marrying you.”

“I’m not sure I dare believe that,” Gwen whispered.

The butler appeared in the doorway and announced the arrival of Lord Somerton. Gwen’s insides curled into tight, little knots. Her heart beat a rapid pace.

“Show him to the library,” Tamsin said. When the butler departed, she looked to Gwen. “You’ve gone pale. Pinch your cheeks before you see him. Or think of kissing him. That’ll put some color in your face.” She smiled, and Gwen laughed.

“Thank you.”

They stood together, and Tamsin said she would be here afterward, no matter what happened.

Then Gwen went downstairs to the library, walking alternately fast and then slow as she couldn’t quite decide if she was excited for the coming conversation or dreading the result.

As she walked into the library, her breath caught. Had he somehow become more handsome since the day before? His blond hair was elegantly styled and his clothing superb. He looked as if he’d walked straight off a fashion plate.

But he wasn’t smiling. Indeed, his face looked a bit drawn. Was something wrong?

“You received my note,” Gwen said tentatively, feeing incredibly nervous.

“Yes. That is why I am here, though this is not something we should be doing. However, you said it was urgent.”

“Did you receive the writing exercise I sent you the other day?” she asked hopefully.

He exhaled. “Yes. I apologize for not responding. It was most helpful. You are a wonder.” He smiled faintly, and Gwen relaxed a little.

She pulled the new exercise she’d made from her pocket. “I’ve another one for you.” She moved closer to him and held the folded parchment out.

He reached for it, clasping the proffered edge, while she held the other side. Their gazes met.

“Thank you,” he murmured, taking the paper and tucking it into a pocket in his coat. “Is this why you wanted to see me? You could have sent it like you did the first one. I promise I’ll respond in future.”

“I appreciate that,” she said. “But that isn’t why I wanted to see you. I, um, I missed you.”

His jaw seemed to tighten.

When he didn’t respond, she gathered her courage and went on. “I saw you in the park yesterday. I thought you saw me, but then you turned and walked away.”

“I did see you.” He sounded almost…weary? “You looked as if you were going to come and speak to me, but I told you we can’t be publicly associated any longer. How would that look if you approached me at the park?” He didn’t sound angry, but there was some underlying emotion weighting his words.

“I realize that, which is why I wanted to see you. I don’t want to not be able to speak with you or spend time with you. We’d become close, hadn’t we?” She waited for him to say something or for his expression to change. When he remained stoic, Gwen began to worry that this would go very badly. Perhaps the worst that could happen was about to.

“I miss that closeness,” Gwen said, knowing this was her only chance to tell him how she felt. “My mother has asked me which gentleman I am hoping will offer for me, and I realized that the only one I want is you.”

Lazarus’s nostrils flared. “You can’t want that.” His voice was low, nearly a growl.

“Why not?”

“Because you know what kind of man I am.”

“Yes. The man I am in lo?—”

He snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. “ Don’t say it. You can’t feel that way about me. I won’t permit it.”

She looked up in the firestorm of his eyes and ached at whatever he was battling. Was it that he didn’t think he was good enough for her?

“What about what I will permit?” She pressed against him and put her arms around his neck.

He muttered something that sounded as though it may have been a curse just before his mouth claimed hers in a blistering kiss. Gwen’s soul sang as his tongue swept along hers. She clutched him tightly, never wanting to let go. If this moment could last into eternity, she would be happy.

His hand moved lower, to her backside, bringing her pelvis in direct contact with his—nearly, for he was taller than her by several inches. This was nothing like the awful ways in which Tremblay had groped her. Lazarus caressed her and held her with a mix of care and unfettered desire. She felt both wanton and safe, as if this was exactly where she wanted and needed to be—in Lazarus’s arms.

He kissed along her jaw then he abruptly stepped away, his breath coming fast. “I’m sorry for overstepping.”

“I clearly didn’t mind. I invited you to kiss me. Indeed, I invite you to do whatever you wish with me.” Please, do that, she internally begged.

He wiped his palm over his mouth. “I can’t be with you like this. Or in any other way.”

He’d said “can’t,” not that he didn’t want to. “Why not?”

“Because you deserve far better, for one. Beyond that, there are…reasons I can’t explain.” He took a deep breath. “Perhaps in time, things will be different.”

“Are you asking me to wait? I will.” She would wait as long as he asked. That had to break a rogue rule—or several—but she didn’t care. She was gleefully throwing them all aside for a chance with this magnificent rogue. And that definitely broke a rogue rule: never give a rogue a chance.

“No, I can’t ask that—or anything else of you.”

“I wish you would explain,” Gwen said. “You can tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” Now he sounded cold. “I am a rogue, and you know that. You are far better off without me. Choose one of your other gentlemen. They will all make you far happier than I ever could.”

“I don’t agree,” she said quietly.

He moved toward the door. “If you ask to see me again, I won’t come.” He kept his back to her. “I do appreciate your reading exercises, though I will understand if you choose to stop sending them.”

“I won’t. I will always help you, Lazarus.” Gwen’s heart was breaking. This was worse than she’d expected. He wasn’t even saying he didn’t care about her, just that he wasn’t good enough for her. That should be her choice, not his.

But there was something else. Something pulling at him. Something he would not reveal.

He left without saying anything more. Gwen wobbled on shaky legs to sit in a chair. She didn’t cry, though she was devastated. She just felt…hollow.

Tamsin came in and rushed to sit near Gwen. “What happened? You don’t look happy.”

“He urged me to choose someone else.”

“He doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, then?” Tamsin’s brow creased.

“He says he isn’t good enough for me, but he also mentioned there were reasons he couldn’t be with me. Though, he did not explain what those are. I suppose he just means that his reputation prevents him from doing so.” Gwen shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Tamsin touched Gwen’s hand. “I’m so sorry. What can I do?”

“Nothing. I don’t think there’s anything to be done.” Gwen summoned a grateful smile for her sweet friend. “I think I need to take a respite from the whirl of the Season. For a few days. Or perhaps a week.”

“Isn’t there an important ball tonight?” Tamsin asked. “A friend of your father’s?”

Blast, that was true. “After tonight, then.” Gwen was suddenly tired of all the effort it took to be marriageable. She wanted time with her books. “I wonder if we could also attend a literary salon on Monday. I’ll send Jo a note.”

“Actually, I just received one from her while you were speaking with Somerton. I have an invitation to attend on Monday. I will only go, however, if you accompany me.”

Gwen’s answering smile was genuine. “That would be lovely.”

She may not have won Lazarus, but at least she had books. Beautiful, trustworthy, faithful books.