Sinful Liaisons (11 page)

She saw the indecision in his gaze. Risk an investigation into their disappearances and lose their hideout or release them and pray they didn’t tell anyone of the place. Frankly, Evelyn wanted to put the gambling den behind her and never think on it again.

The man folded his arms and gave a slow nod. “Very well—”

A crash sounded from behind her. She flinched and Pierce drew her into a protective hold. Then another crash as a chair was flung across the room. She was whirled away from Freddie and thrust back against the wall. Two men grappled where Freddie had been standing. The man had leaped behind the bar and was brandishing a bottle. Chaos broke out in every corner—bottles breaking, fists flying. She couldn’t be sure who or what had triggered it but somehow they’d become embroiled in a bar fight.

A man stumbled into her before Pierce could prevent him and she pushed him away with both hands. Pierce gripped her hand and led her to the entrance. Several more men blocked their way and one came swinging for them. A blow struck Pierce’s mouth, then the side of his face. Evelyn couldn’t help but cry out and ball her firsts, ready to leap to his defence but Pierce stepped in front of her and laid out the man with a punch before gripping her hand and urging her on once more.

They spilled out into the cool night air and didn’t stop until they had made it back to the old mine. There, they paused for breath. Pierce leaned against the stone and tilted his head back.

“What the devil were you thinking?” he demanded.

Evelyn ignored him. “You got the confession?”

“Yes.” He drew out the paper and waved it at her. “Turns out Sir Lloyd fathered a child to an important married lady. George was using the information against him. First to advance him through society and then to gain himself some land. He forced him to sign as witness.”

Evelyn snatched the paper from him, unable to read the writing in the dark night and held it close. “I knew it.”

“You did.” He came close and wrapped his hands around her arms. “Now don’t ever do something like that again.”

“Like what?”

“Like entering such a dangerous place alone.” In the moonlight, his eyes were dark and hooded, filled with annoyance and something else.

Evelyn couldn’t pinpoint what. “You went alone.”

“I can look after myself.”

“I couldn’t let you do that alone for me, what if you...you gambled or something...”

“Gambled?” He gave a dry chuckle and released her arms. “Evelyn, I haven’t gambled since I met you. Funnily enough, I haven’t needed to. Maybe you should think on why that is.”

She stared at him, feeling as though she was wading through water. Lips swollen, eye half-shut, he looked at her with an expression of wounded hurt that told her more of his wounds inside than out. Her mind felt thick and soupy. First talk of marriage, then... “I don’t understand. Pierce—I mean, Cyn—”

“Goddammit, I love you, Evelyn. You love me, even if you can’t bring yourself to say my name. I’m sure of it. I haven’t wanted to gamble since laying my gaze on you. You fulfil every desire of mine. What need have I to gamble?”

Evelyn stumbled a few steps back, as though the words he’d flung at her had struck her in the chest. Love? No. Surely not.

“We had an agreement, nothing more. I never promised more than...”

“Than to use me for your pleasure? That I well know. But you have my heart now, Evelyn.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “What are you going to do with it?”

After stopping the night at Plymouth, a quick telegram to his brother and ensuring Merry was looked after, Pierce’s temple throbbed and he longed for a bed. The subsequent train journey and carriage ride didn’t help his pains any further. But it wasn’t the physical pain causing him aggravation. No, it was the real ache inside him that made him feel as though he was breaking in two.

Evelyn had hardly said two words to him since his confession of love. She’d declared he needed rest and they’d spent the night in silence. After that, she had been a picture of cool duchess-like efficiency, helping him arrange for Merry to be taken care of and talking of what she was to do with George.

She
being the imperative word. No more
they
or
we.
Still, hopefully his telegram to his brother would solve that conundrum.

By the time they’d reached the house, his jaw was tense and frustration boiled up inside him. Hell, he did have some pride, did he not? Was he really going to stay and beg for scraps of her affection? Let her pay him for doing what he now did out of love? He wasn’t sure he could stomach it, staying with her only to be cast aside once their arrangement ended.

No, he had to leave. And leave as soon as he could.

He dabbed his swollen lip experimentally and grimaced at the picture he must make. His eye was partially closed and pain jarred through him every time he tried to smirk at himself and what an idiot he was. Evelyn had never needed him, he’d known that. All his thoughts of marriage had been pure folly.

The carriage came to a halt in front of the house and he silently stepped out and aided her down. She barely looked his way before heading up the steps and pausing at the top one. He came to her side, ready to tell her this was it. Today, he’d leave.

“Pierce—”

He lifted a hand but before he could speak a young man came out of the open doors and swung his gaze between them.

“Mother.”

Evelyn rotated slowly her jaw dropping open. “Samuel! What are you doing here?”

“Well, is that any way to greet your son?”

She laughed, stepped forward and took him into her embrace. Samuel patted her back awkwardly and turned his glare back onto Pierce.

“The rumours are true then,” he said tightly.

He hadn’t inherited his mother’s red hair—instead an unruly mop of dark curls covered his head in what Pierce could only describe as a bohemian fashion. He supposed it might be stylish in Europe. But his eyes and what was currently a youthful face were certainly from his mother. In a few years, he’d be nipping at Pierce’s heels in the handsome stakes.

And he didn’t like Pierce one bit. Apparently the lad knew what Pierce was to his mother. He couldn’t blame him really.

“Let’s go inside and have some tea. I’m wearied,” Evelyn said diplomatically, glancing between the two of them.

Pierce could hardly be bothered to glower back. Samuel would be pleased to know he was giving up any idea of a claim to Evelyn’s heart before long. Once he’d had a quiet word with Evelyn and assured her Jasper would deal with George for her, he’d pack his belongings and return to London.

What the devil he was going to do with himself? He was still poor. Just a minor problem. But he wouldn’t take any more money from Evelyn.

They went through to the main drawing room and Evelyn rang for tea while handing over her hat, jacket, and gloves. Pierce removed his hat but tucked his gloves in his trouser pocket and merely undid his jacket. There was no sense in prolonging things.

“Evelyn, may I—”

The entrance of the butler forced him to cut his sentence short. A flush of red appeared on the man’s cheeks. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but there is something...I mean...you need to...” He retreated into the hallway and they followed.

Pierce couldn’t help but grin when he spied Jasper, dragging in a figure with a sack over his head.

“You ask, and I deliver,” Jasper announced.

“What is going on?” Evelyn asked.

“Bring him into the dining room. No sense in getting blood on the carpet,” Pierce ordered.

“Blood?” she cried.

Pierce ignored her and snatched the arm of the man to help his brother haul him into the dining room. “That was quick. You must have only got my telegram yesterday.”

He shook his head. “It just so happens Ash was at Stourbridge when I got your message. He delivered this devil to me.”

“Ash was at Stourbridge?” Pierce considered his quiet younger brother, trying to fathom what he’d be doing travelling there.

“Yes...” Jasper waved a hand as they dumped the man on a chair. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll explain later. Anyway, luck would have it that I was in the right place at the right time when I received your message. I didn’t think there was any sense in wasting time.”

“Well I appreciate your efficiency.” It meant he could deal with this chap and be on his way soon indeed.

“What is going on?” Evelyn demanded from behind him.

Pierce ignored her. “Did you harm him?”

“Just roughed him up a little. He didn’t wish to come easily.”

“I can’t blame him. Forgery, blackmail, potential extortion...he’s been a bad boy.”

He drew off the sack, and George blinked in the lamplight. True to his word, Jasper hadn’t really harmed him but he had a bloody mouth and probably looked a little like Pierce did right now. His hands were bound behind his back and his eyes were wide. Jasper had done a fine job of scaring him. Now it was up to Pierce to ensure he remained scared.

“Mother...” Samuel protested when she pressed him out of the room.

Evelyn came forward and thrust the signed confession his way. “You tried to steal from me, Mr. Whitbury.”

“What are you going to do to me?” George asked, his voice muffled by his swollen lip.

Pierce leaned in, meeting his gaze and keeping his voice low. “I’m going to make sure you never swindle anyone again.”

“You’re going to kill me?”

He exchanged a look with his brother and they smirked. “First, you’re going to write a nice little letter, admitting to your crimes of forgery and blackmail. Then we’ll consider what to do with you.”

Of course Pierce had no intention of killing the man but it wouldn’t hurt to let him believe that for a while. A cocky chap like George needed to be scared into behaving. The chances were a swindler like him was too used to things coming easily. He charmed his way through life, taking advantage of people like Evelyn who had no one to support them.

“Evelyn, will you fetch some paper and a pen?”

She glanced warily at them all. “Pierce, what are you...?”

“Will you for once in your life trust me?” he bellowed.

Chastened, she scrabbled for some paper in the nearby bureau. Pierce might have regretted his harsh words normally but not today, not when he felt like his soul was tearing in two at the thought of never making her his.

With unsteady hands, George wrote down his crimes and signed the document. Before he handed it over, an arrogant glint entered his gaze again. “What are you going to do with this? No one will believe it. It was done under duress. It means nothing.” He glanced at Evelyn. “Getting your man-whore to do your work for you? It’s hardly duchess-like behaviour is it? Will people really believe someone like you after all this unseemly behaviour?”

Darkness encroached on his vision. Pain blasted through his knuckles before he realised what he’d done. George slumped in the chair, the confession slipping from his fingers. Pierce bent to pick it up and handed it over to Evelyn. Weariness ate into him once more.

“Jasper will deal with him. Here’s your confession.”

With that, he turned and left, ignoring his brother calling his name and then Evelyn doing the same. He headed out of the building and began walking down the lane to the main road. Hopefully he’d use his charm to garner a lift to London. It was far more likely he’d get a ride with his clothes on. Once he’d returned home, he’d send for his belongings.

And he’d never see that woman again. Pierce knew when he was defeated and this was it.

The London townhouse seemed empty without Pierce. Tension thrummed through Evelyn, making her movements still while she tried to finish penning a letter to Lady Tisdale. It didn’t matter that Samuel was with her and she could hear him humming as he browsed the newspaper somewhere behind her. The house still felt empty.

Three months. She pressed a hand to her chest where the ache that had never left resided. She hadn’t been to London since then. Had not been brave enough. She, who prided herself on being bold and outrageous at every turn had been too terrified to step foot in London for fear of running into him. Of course, fear governed her every movement, did it not? That was something she had begun to realise since he’d left her with a terrified George at her feet. The man had vanished off to America or Australia or somewhere, never to be heard from again once she’d released him.

And Pierce had left too.

Leaving her with a deep throb that refused to abate. She’d only been protecting herself, she reasoned. Why open herself up to more hurt? Except...except she was hurting now, was she not? Evelyn shook her head at herself and pushed aside the letter. Her penmanship was atrocious today. She doubted Lady Tisdale would be able to read a word.

Evelyn pressed fingers to her temples and rested her elbows on the desk to peer out of the window. Every time she saw a dapper gentleman, her heart bounded. Maybe he’d find out she was in town. Perhaps he’d come to find her and beg her to marry him.

Perhaps she’d say yes.

No. Yes. Oh blast, she didn’t know what she was doing. Pierce had his pride and she couldn’t blame him for leaving before their arrangement was done. After all, had she not brought the man to the very lowest point? She’d taken all he had to give—his love, his care, his time—and thrown his offer in his face. He hadn’t even taken her money. He had nothing to show for the aggravation she’d caused him. What was he doing to survive now? Had his brother offered his support? She hoped so.

“Mother, stop sighing.”

She twisted to view her son as he lowered his newspaper. “Was I sighing?”

“Yes, and you keep doing it. You did it all the way here and you’ve been staring out of windows and sighing for near on three months now.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t realise I had become such an annoyance,” she snapped back, half-heartedly. The gumption had gone from her, withered away. What was the point in feigning boldness when she knew the truth now? Her entire life was governed by fear.

“You know that Pierce fellow is in the newspaper.” Samuel watched for her reaction.

She tried not to give one but she felt her shoulders straighten in spite of herself. “Is he in trouble?”

“Well, I suppose it depends what you think of as trouble. A big fight is being advertised. Looks like the man has gone into boxing.”

“Boxing?”

She tried to imagine elegant Pierce with his fists raised, swinging a punch at a man. And then she recalled how he’d reacted at the gambling den and with George and found herself able to piece together both sides of him. When Pierce needed to, he’d defend those he cared for to the death. But boxing? Why would he be doing that?

“Seems like he’s making a name for himself,” he murmured. “Odds are he’ll win today.”

“Today? When is this fight?”

He drew out his pocket watch and flicked it open. “Three o’clock. In half an hour’s time.”

Evelyn twined her hands together. He could be hurt. He could die. Boxers died regularly, did they not? Or at least were injured severely. The jagged pain tearing at her heart like a beast’s claws made her breath stifle. She couldn’t let him die.

Not without...

God, she loved that man. She’d love him even if they were apart. If he died or something happened to him and she wasn’t with him, she’d regret it forever. The pain wouldn’t be any less simply because she’d tried to keep herself away.

Would it be worth it, though? To open herself up and suffer further potential hurt? She considered the times they’d spent together and the pure joy he’d brought her.

She couldn’t be sure. But as a supposedly brave woman who wanted to experience what the world could offer her, she had to find out. She couldn’t live in fear anymore.

“It’s taking place at the Repton Boxing Club,” Samuel murmured. A smile curved his lips when she met his gaze.

“I didn’t think you liked him.”

He lowered the paper. “No son wants to think of his mother doing...taking...” He shook his head. “Anyway, the fact is you have been miserable these past few months. I have to assume that you weren’t when Lord Pierce was around or else you would have kicked him out on his arse. Besides, I saw how you looked at him.” He gave a shudder. “That, I could have done without.”

Evelyn laughed, struck by how mature he was since his return from Europe. He really did make a wonderful duke. He was already cleverer and wittier than she was.

“I take it you’re going to this fight. Shall I come with you?”

She eyed the handsome man who had once been her little boy and shook her head. She wouldn’t mention she didn’t like the idea of him being near the fight. “You probably won’t wish to see the scandal I cause.”

“Please do not get yourself into trouble, Mother.”

Standing, she shook her head and bent to kiss his cheek. “It certainly makes a change for you to be worrying about me.”

“Not at all. I’ve worried about you for many years now. I hope this Pierce chap is worthy of you.”

“I think he is.”

Now she had to worry about whether he’d even accept any apology, let alone consider marrying her. “I’ll be back shortly,” she assured Samuel and hastened out into the hallway to bark an order for her jacket, hat, and the carriage.

By the time she’d fussed with her appearance, the carriage was ready and she had twenty minutes to get to the fight. The awful London traffic meant progress was slow and time sped by all too quickly. He’d be already fighting by the time she arrived. Evelyn tugged at the fingertips of her glove, pulling it off before drawing it back on again while she gnawed on her bottom lip. She peered out of the window at the horses and carriages clogging the road. Damn them all, did they not know she needed to get to Pierce?

She near flew out of the carriage when it came to a halt in front of the building. Evelyn pushed through the door and gazed around the grand hallway. Stale sweat made Evelyn’s nose wrinkle. Shouting emanated from the room ahead and she winced at the sound. When she pushed through the door, a wall of men’s backs greeted her. Arms were being waved above their head and shouts of encouragement or disgust rang in her ears. Dust filled the air and made it thick. She resisted the need to fan her face.

Why would Pierce even consider coming to such a place? What was he thinking?

“Excuse me.” She tried to squeeze between the thickly packed crowd. “Pardon—” Someone trod on her skirt and she had to tug it free. An elbow nearly struck her face. She heard the sound of what had to be fists on flesh.
Oh dear God.

“Pierce,” she shouted in desperation, still far away from where the fight was taking place.

He likely hadn’t heard her amongst the roar but a few of the crowd did and turned to look at her. She used the opportunity to force her way through. Evelyn spilled out in front of the ropes and paused, horrified. The two men grappled, blood and sweat dripping down their bodies. In only trousers, she could hardly tell who was Pierce until they broke away.

Her heart threatened to shatter in her chest. One side of his face was bloody and swollen, grime was smeared across his damp chest. Who knew how long the fight had been going on for but he moved sluggishly, as did his opponent.

“Pierce!” she screamed at him, clinging to the ropes around the pair. “Pierce!”

When the men broke apart his head snapped briefly in her direction. She saw the stiffening of his body but he had no chance to do anything more. His opponent was on him with a flurry of blows that he blocked then ducked from. Pierce returned with a jab, then several more, successfully striking the man on the jaw.

Evelyn couldn’t help cry out. What world had she stepped into where commanding, calm, generous Pierce was fighting another man for money? If she’d been inclined to, she might have fainted. She tried calling his name again, to beg him to stop. She was near tempted to climb the ropes and fling herself against him but her skirts would never allow it and she doubted the burly men surrounding it would either. It was suffer the spectacle of Pierce risking his life or be flung out. She’d suffer if it meant talking to him after the fight.

If he survived.

Her stomach bottomed out. She wished she’d eaten breakfast. Bile rose in her throat when more blows were exchanged, each one sounding more painful and damaging than the last. She didn’t know how long the fight lasted but she swore it felt like a lifetime.

How foolish she’d been. So close to receiving something wonderful yet she’d not clung to it. God had seen fit to grant her a second chance at love and she’d been too terrified and foolish to grasp it with both hands. People thought her bold. How wrong they were. Now Pierce might pay for her folly. If she’d declared her love, he might have stayed. He wouldn’t have doubted himself, surely? Or her.

Evelyn didn’t know whether to close her eyes to the sight of her love using his body in such a way or to watch each excruciating blow. But she couldn’t shut her eyes to it, somehow. Couldn’t tear her gaze from him.

It happened in a blur. More sickening punches and slaps of flesh. She released another cry, unable to prevent herself. Pierce locked gazes with her briefly and something simmered through the air. He turned and with one incredibly powerful punch, he knocked the man to the ground—out cold.

Deafening shouts of triumph echoed in her ears. Her vision narrowed to a mere circle and her skin grew hot. Evelyn swayed when Pierce came to the centre of the ring, his arms lifted in wearied triumph. He met her gaze and all breath left her lungs. The floor came up to greet her.

When she next opened her eyes, there were strong, but damp arms around her. She was cradled against a chest and being carried. She drew in several long breaths and noted the air was no longer thick and musty. Her vision began to clear and the sight of Pierce’s swollen jaw filled it.

He set her down on a chaise, kneeled in front of her and tugged at her gown. She ineffectively pushed his hands away but he continued to loosen and pull until her senses almost fully returned. Evelyn eased to sitting.

“What are you doing here?”

Her first instinct was to fling her arms around him and bury herself against his neck. She wasn’t sure he’d appreciate it with his injuries so she curled her fingers at her side.

“You...you left without payment, Cynfell.”

He shook his head and went to stand. “If you came about the money, you can leave right now. I’ve no intention of taking it.”

“No.” She grabbed his arm and tugged him down to kneeling again. “Pierce. Please.”

His eyes softened at the use of his name. He released a weary sigh, pushed a hand through his damp hair and locked his gaze upon hers. “What is it, Evelyn? Make haste because I’ve a desperate need to slap a decent steak against my face. A waste perhaps but...well, my face is worth it, do you not think?”

Her lips twitched at his wry humour but it wasn’t said in his usual flippant manner. There was a hard edge to it and she had the horrible feeling she was responsible for it. Any amusement quickly dropped away, and she reached up to touch his bloodied mouth. He winced but let her touch him, and his body seemed to lose the tension within it. His muscles unfolded and relaxed, like a beast unfurling.

“Pierce, I came to...” Her voice grew thin and strangled. She coughed and tried again. “I came to stop you, to ask you...” Blood seeped from a cut above his eye so she fished around for a handkerchief in her pocket and pressed it against the cut. “God, why are you even putting yourself through this?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No.”

“To prove myself.”

“By using your fists?”

Pierce lifted a shoulder then hissed his pain. “How else is a fourth son to earn his living?”

“Please stop,” she begged. “Do not fight. You don’t need to.” Evelyn removed the handkerchief, satisfied the bleeding had ceased. She curled it into her hands and stared at the pretty cotton now marred with red. “You need to come back to Fairchester,” she said quietly.

“Forgive me, Evelyn, but believe it or not, I have some pride. I suppose I discovered that during our acquaintance so I owe you my thanks.”

She snapped her head up. “You owe me nothing.” Leaning forward, she curled her hands around his shoulders, fearful he intended to leave her. “Pierce, I owe you. Not money, no. But I owe you my love. I owe you for helping me not to be scared anymore.”

“Evelyn—”

“I was terrified of being vulnerable again. It seems odd, I know. No one believes the Duchess of Ardleigh is scared of anything, but I am. Shortly before Rupert died, I also lost a child during childbirth. He was a beautiful boy who had taken my heart completely. Then Rupert died afterward and I lost myself to grief. I knew then that I couldn’t let myself be vulnerable again. And that I would never find anything worth being that weak for.”