The Widow Wager (23 page)

“Crispin,” she said softly. “He is on your side.”

His mouth thinned and he nodded. “Of course he is.”

She wanted to say more, but could see he was not open to her at this moment. So she merely squeezed his arm gently and left him alone with his brother, hoping that the two wouldn’t come to blows and wondering how she could get back the intimacy she had once begun to build with Crispin outside of their bed.

Crispin watched Gemma walk out of the room with an ache in his heart. He knew he was hurting her by withdrawing, but after that drunken afternoon a few days ago, he had no other choice but to do so. He did not want feelings for his bride. He didn’t want feelings at all.

“She is a good woman,” Rafe said softly, dragging Crispin’s attention from Gemma.

Crispin stepped forward and closed the door before he faced his brother again. “She is.”

“You ought to—”

Crispin raised a hand to stop him. “I’m not going to talk about her with you.”

Rafe frowned. “Then why did you want to talk to me?”

Crispin moved forward, the anger that he had been keeping in check bubbling to the surface. “Who the fuck do you think you are, paying off Gemma’s father without consulting me?”

Rafe took a step back, surprise clear on his face. “This is about the money?”

Crispin ground his teeth. “How much did you give him for that ‘generous settlement’ he threw up in my face?”

Rafe shifted, and Crispin’s heart sank. “A thousand pounds.”

Crispin’s stomach turned. He didn’t have a thousand pounds to spare at present, especially if he had to pay for Gemma and Mary’s gowns.

“So much,” he said softly.

Rafe watched him for a moment, and Crispin could feel his brother’s caution, his search for delicacy. “I know you have lost a great deal of money in the past year or so.”

Crispin jolted. “It’s none of your damned business.”

Rafe’s nod was his unexpected response to Crispin’s outburst. “I agree. It is not my business what you do with your funds. Although I think the reason I found you today at Marcus and Annabelle’s with Paul Abbot is because you are trying to amend whatever damage you did.”

Crispin clenched and unclenched his hands in frustration. “Yes,” he finally admitted. “Abbot is helping me look into some investments in order to…” He trailed off and Rafe nodded in understanding.

“And what is his thought about your chances at regaining some of the wealth you lost?”

“It will take time,” Crispin replied. “A few years at least. Some of the investments might be faster, others are more long term and steady.”

“And you went there in order to keep this from Gemma?” Rafe pressed. “How much does she know?”

“Some of it.”

Crispin bent his head and turned back to the alcohol he wanted so fucking badly that he had begun to sweat. He’d only been having one after-supper drink with his wife and sister-in-law every night, and by the time he had that, he was shaking. The only thing that made the pain end was going to bed with Gemma. Her touch saved him every time.

It shouldn’t. But it did.

“She knows some but you still hide?” Rafe asked.

Crispin faced his brother again. “I know when she looks at me, she sometimes sees the life she led at her father’s, always wondering if it would be all right. Always trying to fix what he destroyed. I don’t want her to see that with me. I will fix this without involving her, troubling her.”

Rafe moved toward him and slowly lifted his hands to close them over Crispin’s shoulders. “Allow her to be your partner, Crispin, in your troubles as well as your triumphs. Show her that you are not her father by allowing her to see the actions you take. The girl cares for you, the way she tracked your every move in the parlor today told me that.”

Crispin flinched. These things Rafe said were exactly what he could not do, did not want. “You don’t understand.”

Rafe released him. “No,” he said, his tone laced with bitterness. “You are right. I don’t understand. Because you have shut me out as neatly as you attempt to do with her. I hear whispers, I see glimpses, but I have no idea what happened to change you into the man who stands before me today. But I’m your brother, your blood, and I love you enough to keep trying. I hope you don’t destroy Gemma’s desire to keep trying before you realize how valuable it is.”

“Are you finished?” Crispin asked, hating how harsh he sounded. But Rafe couldn’t help. No one could help.

Rafe sighed. “Yes. I’ll see you at Elsworth’s tomorrow, then. And we can pretend this, as so many other conversations, did not happen, I suppose. Good day.”

His brother said nothing else, but left the room and left Crispin alone. And once he was alone, he muttered, “I know how valuable she is. What she offers in those eyes. It doesn’t mean I can have it.”

The sounds of music and talking people pressed around Gemma, making her throat as tight as if it was in a noose. She forced her smile broader and looked around the room at all the Society lords and ladies and saw so many faces looking back. Judging back.

As it had been for so very long.

She knew why they stared. They stared because of her father’s reputation. They stared because they liked to call her a killer. They stared because of her scandalous forced marriage to Crispin.

“It looks like you could use this.”

She turned to find Crispin approaching her, a tumbler of some kind of spirits in his hand. “Normally I do not approve of drowning one’s troubles in drink.”

“Yes.” He chuckled. “I had guessed that.”

She shot him a look and took the glass. “In this case, perhaps I will make an exception.”

As she lifted the glass, he placed a hand on the small of her back and before any spirit touched her lips, a sense of calm began to fill her. She glanced up at him, amazed by how this gentle touch could be so soothing. He returned the look, his eyes locked with hers.

“I see your anxiety on every line and flutter of your face. You don’t have to worry about their thoughts regarding you,” he said softly.

“But I do. For Mary.”

He pursed his lips. “You spend so much time worrying and fretting over everyone else.”

The burning heat of a blush filled her cheeks and she looked away from him at last. “It is all I can do,” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “At any rate, if my feelings are so obvious, then I am in trouble regardless.”

He shook his head. “I do not think they would be obvious to anyone else.”

She jolted. “Then how can you see them so clearly?”

He was quiet long enough that she forced herself to look up at him again. He was suddenly grim. “I know you,” he finally retorted, but the admission seemed to give him no pleasure and hit her like both a stab to the heart and a warm embrace.

Such discordant feelings only fueled her tangled state of mind.

A state of mind that was not helped when she looked over his shoulder and saw the approach of one of her least favorite people in London.

“Oh, damn,” she said, downing the drink in one slug.

Crispin stared at her, eyes wide. “What brought that on?”

“Lady Winterhaven is approaching.”

“Who?”

She almost laughed at his refreshingly out of touch confusion. It would not help Mary, but it was a happy change from her father, who only cared about rank and rule.

“The Countess of Winterhaven came out the same year I did, and for whatever reason, she decided we were rivals.”

Crispin cast a glance over his shoulder at the still-approaching lady. “Perhaps because you are a dozen times more lovely than she?”

She smiled despite her increasing nervousness. “I have no idea, but she would malign me whenever she got the chance. And I know she was one of the people who spread the rumors that I killed Theodore. Her maid and one of my footmen were…involved in some way, and I think she wheedled some of the story from them and embellished greatly.”

To her surprise, Crispin’s face, which had been amused and relaxed, not tightened with anger on her behalf. “That bitch.”

Gemma flinched. “Well, I wouldn’t start the conversation that way because she is… Hello, Lady Winterhaven.”

Crispin set his jaw before he turned to greet the intruder with a stiff nod.

“Gemma,” the countess said, dismissing any rank Gemma had or had ever had.

Gemma pursed her lips as she looked the other woman up and down. Lady Winterhaven…Lady
Margaret
as she had been known when they came out the same year looked as fresh as she had during her diamond debut. Her blonde hair was perfect, her elegant curves were perfect. Her green gown was stitched with jewels throughout the fabric and made Gemma very aware that her own ball gown was two seasons out of fashion. As usual she felt dowdy and plain next to this woman.

“I did not know you were in attendance, my lady,” Gemma said, forcing her tone to remain light, unaffected.

Lady Winterhaven smiled, her teeth all but glinting in the light from the chandeliers in a most predatory way. “Unlike some people, I am invited to
all
events.”

Gemma flinched. She had opened a door wide open for that barb. She shook her head. “Forgive my manners, I have not yet introduced you to my new husband. May I present Mr. Crispin Flynn?”

“The brother of the Duke of Hartholm, I know.” Lady Winterhaven let her eyes drift over Crispin. They held a strange combination of both disdain and what could only be called sensual interest.

Without thinking, Gemma slipped her hand into the crook of Crispin’s elbow and squeezed gently, as if that action could somehow stake a claim on a man she held so little claim upon. It was an empty action, but then none of her weapons against Margaret had ever had much edge to them.

Women like Lady Winterhaven always won.

“My lady,” Crispin said coolly.

“You are quite a pair,” Lady Winterhaven chuckled. “The killer and the cad. And the way you wed, it was priceless. I think my sewing circle and I must have laughed for a full five minutes when we heard. You do always entertain, Gemma.”

Gemma swallowed hard, wishing she could stop her heart from pounding. She always came up with retorts for this woman, but they came too late. They woke her in the middle of the night rather than springing to her mind in the midst of an attack.

“Why would you laugh?” Crispin asked, his tone blank as if he truly didn’t understand. Gemma groaned. He would only make it worse.

“Because it was a bet you
lost
that
forced you to marry her.” Lady Winterhaven was speaking louder now, clearly drawing attention to them purposefully. And it was working for those around them were edging closer, listening while trying to look like they weren’t.

Gemma’s cheeks burned. This would damage Mary so much. She wanted to sink into the floor or die on the spot just to escape the humiliation and disappointment.

But Crispin seemed less affected. He tilted his head back and laughed. “Is that what you heard?”

At his laughter, Margaret’s green eyes narrowed. “It is what is true.”

“For one who has so much guile, you are surprisingly gullible. The story you have heard is pure, ridiculous poppycock. Gemma and I married because I fell wildly in love with her and I convinced her father to allow us to marry. When he said yes, I could not wait another moment to call her my wife.”

“What?” Lady Winterhaven asked, her mouth agape. Not that Gemma could blame her. It was rather her own reaction to this tale. “That is not the story I heard.”

Crispin shrugged. “Well, ’tis true, I assure you. I met Gemma’s father in a gaming hell, that is correct. And we did play a few friendly card games together. When I was invited to his home to pay him what he’d won, I caught a glimpse of the beautiful Gemma in the hallway and I was…”

He looked down at her, his eyes shining with something that looked like truth even though Gemma knew it wasn’t. But it was so convincing and…and tempting to see it here.

“Crispin…” she began.

He tapped her nose gently with the tip of his finger. “Let me tell the story. You know how I love to do it.” He shifted his attention back to Lady Winterhaven. “Well, I was awestruck. Gemma is the most beautiful woman I have ever known. And although everyone knows I am a committed rake, in that second, I realized I no longer wished to be. So I wooed and won her and here we are, as happy as two people have ever been.”