Authors: Raven McAllan
Jermyn shrugged his shoulders. "He never
said. Indeed I know not if he had realized. I was just outplayed by an
expert."
"Did
he
cheat?"
"No, I think not. Why should he? He had no
need. I was outgunned, outmaneuvered and outplayed. It was a salutary
lesson."
And one
I am involved in, I think not.
"So now you need tell him to choose another
prize, I will not, as I said, be a party to this, and if need be it can be
stated so in your horrid book. I will not be seen to be sold."
"That's the thing
Caty
,
he worded it very cleverly." For the first time Jermyn looked wretched. To
her annoyance, that demeanor didn't last long. His natural arrogance soon
reasserted itself. "You are not mentioned. The wager says part of the
loser's family or possessions, to be chosen by the victor. I coveted his
hunting lodge near Melton
Mowbray
."
What?
"Jermyn, you have one not ten miles from
his." She was at a loss, who was this money-grabbing scheming person
disguised as her brother?
"Yes, well I like his better." Now he
sounded like a sulky schoolboy. "However 'tis immaterial, he won. His
words were 'I will have Catherine. You have forty eight hours to have her agree
to present herself at
Court
Caty
, I could not say no."
"Of course you could. It is easy, one
word." Her head pounded and she had difficulty forming her sentence. She
rather thought she and her actions were at the root of the wager.
"I couldn't, for his next words were…'and
if she refuses, I will take everything that is not entailed.' Hang it
Caty
; that would leave us with nigh on nothing."
No, she could not refuse.
Damn
them both.
Catherine knew she
had no option other than attend and see what he had in store for her.
But
Court
That
was more than half a day's drive. She thought over his wording. She had to
agree
to present herself, not be there?
What game was he playing?
Was
this at
last his revenge?
"So, I suppose I have no option other than
to give you leave to send him that message and ask when and how. But I tell you
now Jermyn, when I,
I,
not you have
paid this debt of
your
honor, I no
longer have a brother. I am ashamed. Of you, and God help me, of myself for
condoning your behavior. If it was not for mama and the children, I would say
hell mend you both. Now please leave me. Until I choose to vacate this house
this is still
my
sitting room, and I
do not like the way you are spoiling the ambiance." She looked away from
him and at the book in her hands, turning the page with slow deliberation.
For one
moment she though he would argue, then he spoke.
"As you ask.
I will inform you of any instructions I
receive." It was unbelievable, but he still spoke as if she was in the
wrong, not him. "I believe it will be soon, he was definite in what he
wanted."
She was in no doubt of that.
Chapter Two
Brook Fredericks turned the missive over in his
hands
thoughtfully
. Had he really believed Catherine
would not call his bluff? But here was the evidence that once more she had come
to her brother's aid. He didn't know whether to be displeased or thankful. When
would she ever let Jermyn sink or swim due to the results of his own folly? If
Brook hadn't been so sure Jermyn was cheating, he would have played fair and
square. As it was Jermyn was so determined to win, his play was careless, and
Brook had little to do to sway the result in his own favor. The hunting lodge
meant nothing to him; he had other houses that he preferred. As a man of honor,
to see the younger man not only cheat, but
be
prepared
to wager anything belonging to his family, sat uncomfortably with Brook. He
would have thought more of him if he had protested at the end. Instead Jermyn
had said nothing, and only spoke when Brook had said Catherine or anything
un-entailed. Then Jermyn had nodded, "I will tell her."
The fool, the uncaring,
stupid fool.
As much as he wanted Catherine with a desperation that
surprised him, he wanted her honestly, to be told she had been wrong, she
missed him, and wanted his body next to hers. It was a faint hope. Up until he
received the missive, Brook had no thoughts to proceed, other than to leave
Jermyn to stew in the results of his folly for a few weeks. However, receiving
the letter, which stated starkly,
Lady
Catherine
will do as you ask. Please send details, of how
and when. Also, strike the debt as paid in the book
, changed his mind.
She was foolish. Did she not know what he
would demand? He smiled grimly. Jermyn Charles was an idiot, his sister
facilitating his idiocy. The debt had not been paid, and until it was, Brook
had no thoughts of permitting either Jermyn or Catherine renege.
He had no intention of letting Jermyn off
lightly, in any case. The young man—
young
idiot—
needed to squirm. What Catherine needed he was not prepared to think
about yet—apart from him, buried deep inside her, and moaning her arousal.
She would be made to see the error of her
ways, before this wager was over, of that, Brook had promised
himself
. He sat at his desk and began to plot.
Two hours later he sanded his letters, before
folding and sealing them, and handing them to a footman with explicit
instructions regarding their execution. Satisfied, he leaned back in his chair,
crossed his ankles and rested his chin on his hands. Retribution had begun.
Catherine did not know just how much she had wounded him in the past, and Brook
was too much of a man to show her. He was under no illusions that she would not
realize this was payback time.
How long before she was demanding when and where
it would all begin? He had no idea, but he thought it would be sooner rather
than later. To his secret amusement, he was correct. Brook had scarcely left
his bedchamber the following morning before the first letter was handed to him.
Something to peruse over his breakfast.
He chuckled at the ill formed words. Knowing
Catherine, he would bet she was in a fine temper when she read
his
letter to her. It had been concise
and to the point.
You will await my
instructions,
I am yours, etc.,
Her reply was almost as brief.
I can
not and will not put my life on hold for you. Please inform me immediately when
and where you wish me to pay my family's debt. I am not yours etc. Catherine.
He frowned; her family's debt? Still she refused
to take the blinkers off and face up to her brother's perfidy. Or did she? With
a flash of clarity, Brook knew she was doing this for her mother. Once he had
been privy to her innermost thoughts, sharing her grief at her father's refusal
to shoulder his filial responsibility. He had not even chosen the honorable way
out with a bullet. Instead the late Lord Charles had absconded to the continent
with his mistress and the family coffers. His death in a duel not three weeks
later had been a relief to them all. To that day, none of the Charles family
knew of Brook's part in the matter, or just how their fortune had been
recovered. Brook intended to see it stayed that way. Nevertheless his inner
self had to see them squirm, just a little.
Especially the
twins.
Catherine because she had broken his heart when
she had refused him because of her father's actions; Jermyn, to save him from
himself.
He chose not to answer her letter. Instead he
dressed carefully and strolled along
James Street
Whites or Brooks? He decided on Whites. Better to face the fire and the
inquisitiveness of the member over the bet before outrageous and scurrilous
gossip began to circulate.
He doffed his hat and handed it and his cloak to
the doorman before strolling into the library. For once the place was quiet,
only one old peer drowsing in a wing chair
near
the
fire. He picked up the daily paper, accepted a cup of chocolate, and sat in a
far corner to enjoy the solitude. Ten minutes later he was rudely interrupted.
"How dare you trifle with
Caty
? She is beside herself with worry, and you sit here
with not a care in the world." The paper was rudely snatched from his
hands.
Brook looked Jermyn up and down. The younger man
flushed.
"Lower your voice, Charles," Brook
said quietly but in a tone that countenanced no argument. "Do you wish the
world and his wife to wonder just
what
you
agreed to wager? I have let it be known we wagered a copy of Keats'
Endymion
, but I can easily change that. Do you wish
the ton to know how little you value your sister?"
Jermyn scowled. "I do value her. You chose
to ask for her."
"And you agreed. I would have thought more
of you if you had refused. However as you did not, this wager no longer
involves you. Now, if you will excuse me, I am busy." He picked up the
paper again. Jermyn made a noise akin to a dog growling. Brook ignored him, and
the younger man walked out of the room. As soon as he had, Brook lowered the
paper. Mind made up he returned it to the table, knowing it would soon be
ironed to its original pristine condition, and left the club. Once outside he
hailed a hackney. It was time to put part two of his plan into execution.
****
Catherine was on edge. She would not have thought
it possible to be both bored and tense at the same time, but her body told her
different. The clatter as a maid cleaned out a grate made her jump and drop her
cup, luckily empty. The shout of a pie man outside the house set her to pacing
the room. Eventually she gave in and called her maid. If she just waited for
Brook to contact her she would become a candidate for Bedlam.
"Betsy, we're going for a walk in the park.
I need to discard my fidgets and blow the cobwebs away." She laughed at
the doubtful look on her maid's face. "Come on, you know once there my
temper will improve."
It is either
that or storming Lord Frederick's house and demanding he put me out of my
misery.
That, she could not say to Betsy.
The weak spring sunshine had warmed the air
enough to make a light pelisse all that was necessary. Catherine strode out in
a way that would have made her mama wince had she been present to see it. Not
ladylike, certainly, but necessary. Beside her Betsy huffed and puffed as she
struggled to keep up.
"Lawks my lady, do we need to go as if on
the retreat from
Catherine slowed her pace a little. "Then
'tis as well you weren't in the French Army, or you would be dead by now."
"My lady, if we don't slow I'll be dead
anyway. You forget
,
I do not get the exercise you
do."
Catherine sighed; it was true, in one respect,
she did walk whenever possible. Though knowing Betsy was 'walking out' with the
second footman, she would wager she got
some
exercise.
No, not
wager; that is what led to this sorry mess.
She slowed even further, and they finished the
walk to the park gates at a more decorous pace.
From out of the corner of her eye she saw a
hackney draw up, and a tall, dark and familiar looking figure alight, and walk
toward her. Her spine stiffened. Just as she had come to terms with the fact
Brook was toying with her, and making her sweat, here he was in the flesh.
Catherine composed her features into a polite expression of disinterested
acknowledgment of his presence. She would
not
let him see her agitation.
She didn't need to. He bowed and smiled at her
knowingly. "No sharp greeting or lambast, Catherine? You disappoint
me." He turned to her maid. "You may wait for us here. I will keep
your lady in your view at all times, but we do not need a witness to our
speech. I will not kill her, abduct her, or even admonish her. I wish to
converse, pleasantly for a while." He didn't wait for an answer but
offered his arm to Catherine. She had no option but to take it.
"Why are you here?" she asked in a low
tone.
"Now?"
His smile
mocked her and made her itch to slap it off his face. She was appalled at the
violence of her feelings. Catherine had always considered herself to be
even-tempered and biddable. Now within a day of his re-emergence into her life,
she was a veritable harpy.
"Why, Catherine," he drawled in what
she considered to be his most annoying voice. "I thought you wished to
speak to me. Immediately, I believe was the term you used. So here I am. What
wish you to say?"