Revenge Wears Rubies (22 page)

She looked at him with tender relief. “I’m looking forward to that, Galen.”

“As am I,” he said solemnly, his expression serious. Galen stood up. “But if we rush, then the sharp eyes of society may still put the puzzle pieces together, and we’ll be right back where we started.” He smoothed out her hair, moving the curls back from her forehead. “I won’t have you suffer a single harsh look, my dear—not on my behalf.”

He could guess her thoughts. She’d given herself to him, and gone too far to turn back now. . . . Her situation was precarious, at best, but Galen was doing his best to give her the assurances she needed. He held out his hand to her.

At last, the storm in her eyes subsided, and she looked back at him, calm and serene, and reached for his hand so that he could pull her up from the chair. “It’s not forever, this arrangement.”

“No, not forever.” He kissed her again, tasting her more deeply and sealing their bargain. “And perhaps you’ll find something to enjoy, something to please you about our secret. What do you think?”

She melted into him, “I think I may already have an inkling of an advantage, or two.”

“For now, just trust me.”

“Yes, Galen. I trust you completely.”

The carriage ride home through the dark and deserted streets of London was like a dream. She kept wondering when she would feel shame or terror at her actions, but instead she felt only a wild kind of liberation and happiness. She had seized her chance for joy with both hands and thrown caution to the winds. And she just knew it would all work out as it should.

He’d all but proposed to her that very night, but for his sensitivity and thoughtfulness when it came to her current predicament. He’d proven his affections beyond anything she’d ever imagined possible, and—they would meet again soon!

It was illicit and forbidden, and so intoxicatingly romantic, this taboo passion! Aunt Alice would be strangely proud, if she knew what Haley had done, but Haley hoped to keep it from her as long as possible. Dear Aunt Alice wasn’t known for her discretion.

And now I have a naughty tale of my very own to shock a grandchild with one day.
Haley leaned back against the cushions and almost cried with happiness.

Chapter
12

“There’s a note for you, Miss.” Emily brought it in on the little silver tray. Usually it was the butler, Mr. Weathers, who brought the cards and notes in, but the housekeeper had already informed her that the poor man was terribly ill this morning.

“Emily, will you ask Mrs. Biron to send for a doctor for Mr. Weathers, please?”

“Yes, Miss.” Emily grinned as she curtsied, and then left to carry out her mistress’s bidding.

Haley studied the sealed note for a moment, admiring the strong, graceful handwriting—unfamiliar to her, but undoubtedly Mr. Hawke’s. Then she turned it over to lift the seal and unfold the paper.

Relief flooded through her and she pressed the paper to her pounding heart.
It wasn’t a dream! I’m to see him again, and he was true to his word!

“I’ve been invited by Mr. Melrose’s secretary to see to a bit of local color!” Herbert announced, flopping onto the broad padded cushions of the sofa of the downstairs sitting room. He’d entered the room with the informal familiarity of a man so used to calling that he hadn’t even bothered to pause in the doorway. “A dog show! I hear they’re notoriously dangerous and seedy, but what a chance to gather for myself what the common man thinks he’s up to with the most popular breeds!”

Haley tried not to let her anxiety at his sudden appearance show and tucked Galen’s note away into a hidden pocket in her skirt. She could still smell Galen on her skin, and since she’d miraculously gotten back into the house undetected for only a few hours of restless sleep, her morning had all but evaporated as the rest of the house demanded her attention. All the promises she’d made to Galen echoed in her head, but the sight of Mr. Trumble’s sweat-covered brow and his cheerful belligerence made it hard to hold her place. “Herbert, there’s something I wanted to—”

“I heard they have bred dogs so small that they can sit in a man’s beer mug! But,” he leaned forward earnestly, “I think they’re shaving guinea pigs and trying to pass them off to win a few coins from idiots who don’t know any better!”

“Herbert,” she tried again. “I was hoping to—”

“No women allowed!” Herbert put up both of his hands, nervously waving her off. “I’ll be lucky to leave without getting my wallet pinched, much less with my dear life, from what Melrose’s man told me! So, there is no possibility of your attendance for—”

“I don’t want to go.” Haley resorted to his own method of speech and interrupted his tirade. “I need to tell you something, Herbert.”

He seemed to realize his mistake, instantly appearing contrite. “Yes, of course.”

Haley took a slow, steadying breath to compose her thoughts. No matter what Galen had said, she did trust him and she knew that everything he’d said made perfect sense; but she couldn’t keep Herbert in the dark—or misuse his engagement. And she was sure there was a way to break it off with him without throwing her future with Galen away. Hopefully, Galen would understand her decision to give in to her own instincts and be as truthful as she could be.

“I need you to please . . . forgive me, Mr. Trumble. I’m afraid that I can’t marry you after all. I’m relying on your good nature and mercy, and hoping that you’ll understand.”

“What is there to—but I don’t understand, Miss Moreland! What could possibly have changed? Unless . . .”

“Unless?” Haley prompted him breathlessly, suddenly afraid that he’d guessed the truth.

“Unless it’s that nonsense about my investing in Miss Langston’s next production. I was afraid you wouldn’t approve, but I can assure you that it’s a respectable business arrangement! I even asked a few colleagues and they said that the royals have been known to support the arts!” His face was flushed as he spoke, and Haley held up a hand to stop him from saying any more.

“My mind, Herbert. I changed my mind.” She took his hand, trying to reassure him, but speaking as honestly as she could. “The more time we spent together, the more I began to doubt that I could ever make you truly happy. I am . . . not an ideal match for you, Mr. Trumble.”

“That’s ridiculous!” He shook his head. “You are well-bred and your family is well-respected. You are exactly what I want in a wife and exactly the kind of wife who can help me make my way in the world and improve my station. I know I may not be the most polished bloke in the Empire, but you have quality enough to make up for my shortcomings! We are a perfect match!”

She pulled her hand away, wishing there had been another way to protect her ragged conscience without hurting the poor man. “You don’t love me, Herbert.”

“That’s ridiculous! I’ve spent hundreds of pounds! I’ve opened credit lines for—”

“And I don’t love you, Mr. Trumble,” she whispered, the quiet truth finally reaching him.

He stood, turning his back on her to stare out the window onto the street below. “Affection can grow over time.”

“I don’t think so. Every instinct tells me . . . no, Herbert.”

He turned back, confusion giving way to a strange look of belligerent challenge on his face. “This may be a feminine impulse of the moment, Miss Moreland. My sisters are notorious for changing their minds and then tearfully changing them back as soon as they realize their mistakes.” He straightened his coat, pride lifting his chin a small fraction. “I’ll await a note from you within the next three days before I say anything to anyone. That should spare you the embarrassment of explanations and hold off any misunderstandings.”

“Mr. Trumble, I don’t need three—”

“Three days! I do hope you’ll reconsider all the advantages I have to offer, Miss Moreland. I am a generous man, and can promise that I’m not going to hold this sudden and uncharacteristic change in temperament against you after we are wed.”

He made an awkward bow and turned, leaving without saying another word.

Haley sat for a few minutes, stunned by the strange turn of events. She’d expected him to protest but not to completely deny her breaking off of the engagement.

Still, once his deadline had passed, she was more hopeful that he would, in fact, be kind when it came to voiding their contract.

As for now, he’d given her the gift of three days to catch her breath and not be forced to make any decisions at all. Three days without dreading any more confrontations, three days to brace herself for the inevitable disaster of telling her father that his financial security might have to wait for just a while longer.

“Miss?” One of the maids spoke from the doorway. “Miss, your father is asking for you. He’s . . . feeling a little poorly this morning.”

Haley stood up, setting her shoulders for the task ahead. “Feeling poorly” meant his head was still bothering him after drinking far too much at last night’s ball, and she would have to put off her own chance to rest for just a while longer to attend him. “I’ll be right there, Emily, thank you.”

Haley headed up the stairs to the second floor and her father’s rooms. It was nearly noon, but the draperies were still drawn, robbing the room of all light. She was familiar enough not to trip over the furniture to reach him, mildly concerned at his soft moans.

“Father? Can I get you anything?” she asked softly.

“A shroud,” he mumbled. “A burial shroud.”

She smiled, leaning over to light an oil lamp by his bed stand, only to suffer his complaints.

“No lights! My eyes will burn out of my head!”