Revenge Wears Rubies (35 page)

“You intended to harm her?” Rowan’s voice had an alarmed edge.

“Her reputation, good doctor. I was going to expose her publicly in the press as a faithless, moneygrubbing whore. How does that sound for noble schemes and lofty plans?”

Rowan dropped the book in his hand on the desk and took a seat on an overturned chair’s back. “It sounds. . . like another man I’ve never met. Suddenly, our conversation the other day begins to make sense. But Galen, you—you couldn’t have done it.”

“No, I couldn’t. No matter how blackly appealing the cursed idea was before I met her, once I knew Haley . . . and then it was too late to tell her the truth. And then I convinced myself that she didn’t have to ever know. I’d pursued her and won her. Why would that seem different from any other illicit courtship that ends in respectable matrimony? Except—”

“Except she found out your secret, and now it seems too different to ever be believed that you’re not Lucifer himself,” Rowan finished, retrieving his drink to take a steadying sip or two. “Well! This is starting to put my day into perspective.”

“I should take comfort that she has a respectable and honorable man waiting to marry her. But I don’t think I can live knowing that fat mud troll, Trumble, is going to be her husband.”

“Ah! There’s one problem solved.”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard from Lady Pringley that the engagement is off. Apparently the fashionable Miss Moreland, for reasons unknown, broke off their agreement, but the gossips are convinced it’s because Mr. Trumble may have met someone else.”

“Off?” Galen felt numb. “When?”

“For some time, now.” Rowan knelt next to his friend. “I’m surprised you hadn’t heard.”

“No. I’ve been so caught up in my own head, and . . . so distracted by . . .” Galen wasn’t sure what was worse: the sick relief that Trumble would never touch her or the additional guilt of knowing that he’d callously and completely disrupted her life. The illusion that everything that had happened had been just between the two of them was shattered. “Any advice, Dr. West?”

Rowan leaned back on his heels, straightening up to use the furniture to stand, and then held out a hand to help Galen back up. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Yes.” Galen looked him squarely in the eyes. “Granted, I’m a little crazed, so don’t ask me to swear that I’ll follow it, West, but yes, I want to hear it.”

“When did she discover all of this?”

“Last night.”

Rowan drew his fingers over his chin, clearly thinking things through before speaking. “It’s too soon.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s too soon to approach her. She’ll be too emotional to hear anything you say, and I’m afraid you’ll be no better off for the attempt, Galen.” Rowan nodded, as if to underline his own wisdom by agreement. “I think you should wait a few days and let her catch her breath.”

Galen held out his hand, shaking Rowan’s hand. “I’ll leave you to your sorting and repairing, West. Have you sent word to Michael?”

“You’re not going to wait, are you?”

Galen’s expression didn’t change. “Send for Michael. Good day, Rowan, and be sure to let me know if there’s anything I can do.” He made a quick bow and left the library without another word.

Galen wasn’t sure what he could do to win her back. He wasn’t sure what words even existed to bridge the chasm his actions had carved between them or if there was a gesture grand enough to make her reconsider him.

But one thing he knew with absolute certainty.

He wasn’t going to wait before he tried.

Chapter
22

“What a lovely gown!” A very young and beautiful Lady Forrester had befriended her for the evening, and Haley was grateful for the distraction. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a clever sleeve! Everything else I see is endless draping and rouching, but this! It’s like a delicate basket weave, but of silk.”

“It’s my own creation,” she admitted, feeling braver about the subject because of Jacqueline’s sincere compliments and sweet nature. “I enjoy making my own things.”

“Well, I’ve heard from more than one woman this Season that there is a fierce quest to discover the cunning genius behind your dresses,” she said, squeezing Haley’s hand reassuringly. “But I’ll keep your secret if you wish!”

“Thank you, Lady Forrester. I’m wishing I’d met you weeks ago . . .”

“Oh, I don’t think I could have kept a delightful secret like this for
that
long!” Jacqueline teased. “It’s perfect timing that we’re friends now, for you’ll think me an even-tempered and honorable creature, and be spared my worst traits.”

“And what traits are those?” Haley asked with curiosity.

“I would never say!” she laughed. “But my husband even admits he has never met a woman more impossible, nor loved any other as much, so I cannot be too terrible!”

At the mention of a husband’s love, Haley felt the pleasure she’d had in the conversation instantly bleed away. It felt petty to envy her new friend her happiness, but her own heartache was too recent. “No, not too terrible.”

“You should be dancing! I would refer you to my cousin, Wilbur, but he was the worst dancer in London last Season and has now vowed to never make another attempt.” She shook her head. “I’d be grateful, normally, to see all the toes of my friends safe at last, but what a social albatross to cart him around from party to party so that he can mope in corners.”

“I wasn’t going to dance this evening.”

“Really?” Lady Forrester eyed her with new speculation. “I hope you don’t mind my saying, but how is that possible?”

“I prefer not to.” Haley hoped she didn’t sound too cheeky. “How is that impossible?”

Jacqueline smiled. “It is impossible if it’s true that you just recently ended your engagement to a certain successful industrialist! For that kind of brave or remarkably insane action simply
must
be followed up by a cavalier demonstration that you are, in fact, better off without him and ready for a happier and far wealthier blue-blooded prospect!”

“By dancing?”

“At the very least!” Lady Forrester looked back over the guests, as if openly seeking Haley’s next prospect. “You are too lovely to be a good wallflower. Trust me, I know all about wallflowers! My older sisters were notorious at blending into the draperies, and I thought my mother would die from all the fuss she would make afterward. I still think they did it deliberately to enjoy my mother’s theatrics. Mind you, they both made incredible matches once they’d determined to mend their ways!”

“As easy as that?” Haley asked, marveling at the elusive idea that a woman could change the course of her life by determination alone.

“Well”—Jacqueline bit her lower lip, a mischievous gleam in her eyes giving a few of her secrets away—“they
may
have had a bit of a stealthy push from their younger sister, who wasn’t going to be allowed to come out until they were married. But what is life without an adventure or two? And it all worked out in the end!”

Haley could only nod, beginning to realize that the sprightly Lady Forrester might indeed be the most charming troublemaker she had ever encountered.
Lord Forrester is bound to lead an adventurous and happy life, I suspect.

“Shall I help you find a partner for the next dance?” Jacqueline offered brightly.

“If you wish, but . . .”

“Come, let’s step forward and see who we can find in the crush to—”

“Miss Moreland!” Rand Bascombe addressed her as he approached the pair. “What a delight to see you out this evening! Ah, Lady Forrester, wasn’t it?”

“It was and is.” Jacqueline nodded. “I was just encouraging my new friend to dance, Mr. Bascombe.”

“As well you should. Would you care to dance with me, Miss Moreland?”

Haley would rather have spent an evening with her back against a wall, but she couldn’t afford to be rude in front of Lady Forrester. “Yes, thank you.”

Bascombe bowed to Lady Forrester and swept Haley onto the floor before she could demur or say anything else to her new friend. “Aren’t you enjoying yourself this evening, Miss Moreland?”

“Yes, of course.” It was the proper answer, but hardly enthusiastic.

“Come now, I understand you’ve had a disappointment with your engagement ending so suddenly, and I am so sorry to hear of it. I thought you and Mr. Trumble were such a . . . lovely couple.” He turned her perfunctorily around the dance floor. “But you are too beautiful a young woman to want for company, Miss Moreland, and I’m sure a dozen hearts in the Ton cheered to think you were not taken.”

“It is not a cheerful subject, Mr. Bascombe. Please . . .”

“We’ll leave it, then. But while I have you,” he continued, “I must let you know that as a friend, I have a favor to ask—and of course, a favor to offer you in return.”

“What kind of favor?” she asked warily.

“I want you to send word if Mr. Hawke contacts you again, or if you have a meeting. For you see, I still think you’re the most likely person for him to share his secrets with—or perhaps he already has! And since I suspect he is no longer on good terms, you might feel differently about helping me in this regard.”

Haley’s mouth fell open involuntarily before she realized it, then she pursed her lips quickly in shock. “Mr. Bascombe, I—”

“It’s no betrayal to speak of these things, Miss Moreland, when a man has treated you so cruelly. And how hard would it be to answer one of his letters and feign forgiveness if it suited you?” His grip on her fingers tightened to keep her from pulling away. “For if you will help me, I think I may be in a position to help your father with his financial straits.”

She was speechless. That he knew of her relationship with Galen was too unfathomable—and too horrifying to absorb in a single waltz. “You cannot . . . believe . . .”

His expression became intensely serious, and his hold on her was suddenly a subtle prison as they made another turn around the floor. “I am relying on you, Miss Moreland. Any conversations regarding India that Mr. Hawke shared with you are quite literally worth their weight in gold to me and to others.”

The music ended, and he took a step back, releasing her at last.

“Mr. Bascombe.” Haley took a deep breath. “What in the world can have happened to Mr. Hawke in India that would fascinate you so much?”

“If you knew, you would know not to ask. But there’s no need to explain why I need this information, Miss Moreland. I’ll depend on your discretion not to repeat this offer to anyone else—and you can depend on mine in return.”

“You . . . are entirely serious.”

“Never doubt it, Miss Moreland. We have a mutual enemy now, and that makes us even better friends, you and I.” He bowed again. “I’ll wait for your note.”

Haley watched him walk away, trying to hide her astonishment and confusion.

“Miss Moreland?”

Haley turned, praying her distracted state wasn’t too evident on her face. “Yes.” She realized instantly that Lady Forrester had made good on her promise to assist her friend in making a better show of the evening.

Jacqueline’s smile was far too innocent. “May I present my cousin, Mr. Wilbur Parrish? It seems he’s recovered his good humor enough to beg a dance!”

The surly expression on Mr. Parrish’s face belied her words, but he bowed all the same. “May I have the next dance, Miss Moreland?”

Haley spared one look to Lady Forrester and accepted that there was nothing to be done. She was just going to have to make the best of it and keep hoping that she could stay one step ahead of the worst that the Fates had set out for her.

Only one thing was certain. Bascombe had spoken of enemies and favors, and all she knew was that there wasn’t a soul on the earth she’d betray at Rand Bascombe’s bidding. Not even if it meant her life.