The Widow Wager (9 page)

Marcus nodded. “A fine way to handle it. But will you keep her in your home, assuming it turns out the girl is not a raving murderer?”

“You’re asking if I will continue the marriage,” Crispin said softly. “I-I don’t know.”

Rafe stepped forward. “You came here seeking my counsel and I am now going to give it to you. Should it turn out that the story of Gemma killing her late husband turns out to be exaggerated or untrue, I believe—”

His brother didn’t get to finish the thought, because at that moment, the door to the billiards room opened without the preamble of a knock and all three men turned to watch Gemma enter the room, flanked on either side by Annabelle and their mother.

Crispin caught his breath at the sight of her. It was funny, he knew now that he was looking at a potential killer, someone he might not even be safe in the company of. But if she was not the most beautiful potential murderer he’d ever seen, he didn’t know who was. He let out a long sigh.

Whatever was going to happen, the fact that he found Gemma so entirely attractive was going to be an issue. He already knew what beautiful women could do and it could be far worse than murder a man in body. She could capture a soul. She could take everything.

And whatever happened, he wasn’t about to let this woman close enough to do any of that.

When Annabelle opened the door to the billiards room, the way the men brought their conversation to a screeching halt made every hair on Gemma’s neck stand up. She stared at the three guilty faces, the three sets of eyes that wouldn’t meet hers and her skin heated. She wanted to hide. She had come to be very aware of when others were discussing her in a less than positive light.

And even though she knew Crispin wanted out of their marriage, the fact still stung.

But then he did the unexpected. He turned his face back to hers, their eyes locked, and he just…
watched
her. Unflinching, unjudging. He just watched.

She finally looked away, just as Mrs. Flynn said, “Is it safe to assume that everyone in the room now knows the unfortunate details of Gemma and Crispin’s marriage?”

Gemma suddenly found the design on the carpet fascinating, but even though she no longer looked at them she was well aware that everyone around her was nodding. The humiliation of all these strangers, kind as they had been so far, privy to what had been one of her worst nights cut deep. It took everything in her not to run from the room. After all, where would she go?

“Then I suggest this is something that would better be discussed all together, as a family.”

To Gemma’s surprise, Annabelle wrapped an arm around her shoulders in that moment and drew her forward, drew her into their circle. She felt her spine straighten and she let her gaze lift.

Part of their family? Could it be so easy?

“Gemma tells us that you wish to somehow annul the union on grounds of fraud, or at least drunkenness,” Annabelle said, her tone cold. “Is that true, Crispin?”

“It
was
true.” Crispin shifted. “Rafe pointed out to me a moment ago that I never actually asked Gemma’s opinion on the matter. So I am asking you now, Gemma. What do
you
want to do?”

She stepped back in surprise. No one had asked her about her desires regarding her own future in years, decades perhaps. She wasn’t even certain she had a reply.

“Gemma,” he said, his voice softer as he took a step toward her. “I want to know your thoughts.”

She cleared her throat. Her thoughts.

“Although being dragged into the night by you and my father, being forced to wed in the most unromantic and uncouth way would never have been my choice, the fact is that it
was
done. And I know my father. By this morning, he would have begun the announcing and the crowing to anyone who would spread the word quickest. If we then annul the union, I fear the repercussions will be devastating. Not to me. I already know a bit about scandal—”

She blushed at having to say those words, but forced herself to continue.

“It is for my sister I fear, you see. At this moment, Mary could still have some value if my father allows her to have a Season. He might even let her have a little bit of choice in husbands to save face. But if I fall, utterly fall, as I would with this broken, blasphemous marriage…well, my father might decide to barter with her innocence instead.” She shook her head. “I realize I’m telling you something personal and horrible and trust me, I take no pleasure in it. But you asked me what I want, Crispin…Mr. Flynn, and what I want is to protect my sister from a future I have already survived.”

His face softened, as if he were beginning to understand a little about her. He nodded.

“So you wish to keep the marriage intact and work something out for how we will proceed?”

“Wish is a strong word,” she said with a shake of her head. “I believe that may be the best course.”

To her surprise, he smiled. “It is something to consider.”

“I think Gemma is correct,” Mrs. Flynn said, breaking the moment between them without even trying. “Crispin, you could make an argument about fraud or duress and it would go to the courts and be dragged out for months, while you and especially Gemma are the topics of a kind of gossip that I promise you is nothing like the whispers about the playful antics of you and your brother over the years.”

Annabelle nodded. “There would be censure for you both. It could very well be irretrievable.”

Crispin’s full lips were pinched. He continued to look at Gemma, holding her stare with his really very beautiful blue ones.

“Would censure pass to you, Annabelle? To Rafe and Serafina? To Mama?” he asked.

Rafe stepped forward now. “Yes. I believe this is the kind of scandal that might affect us all. Serafina would likely know best. But none of us would tell you to make this decision based upon what we would suffer.”

Now Crispin turned and looked at his family. There was something different in the set of his jaw, as if he had changed in the brief time they’d been apart. Gemma found herself mesmerized by it.

“But I must consider it,” Crispin said softly. “I must consider the consequences to my family and to Gemma. After all, it is I who did this with my foolish actions.
I
created this.”

He looked at her again and reached for her. She let him take her hands, felt the warmth of him in his rough fingers. She couldn’t withdraw and couldn’t look away as he leaned in.

“I am truly, deeply sorry, Gemma.”

She blinked at sudden tears that flooded her eyes. He had said those words before, but this was the first time his apology felt whole. It sank into her, washing away some of the anger she felt toward him. She nodded.

“I know you are,” she whispered.

He nodded and pulled away. “I think Gemma and I need some time to discuss this matter and others alone. But may we return for supper tomorrow night?”

“Of course,” Rafe said. “Perhaps you can see Crispin as well and visit Serafina, though I think she will be abed still.”

Crispin frowned. “See Crispin?”

“Yes. We named the baby that, you see. Crispin Reginald. After you and father.”

The way Crispin staggered back, Gemma felt she had no choice but to reach out, steadying him with a hand against his arm. For a moment, tears brightened his eyes and he blinked to clear them.

“That is an honor to share a name with your son, Rafe. Perhaps I can do a better job moving forward in showing him how to behave.”

“He’s a Flynn,” Marcus Rivers said with a laugh behind them. “You two have already blazed a spectacular trail for the boy.”

The others laughed, but Crispin was still struggling with what were clearly extreme emotions. He nodded once more.

“So, tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” Rafe turned to Gemma, and she couldn’t help but smile at his continually welcoming expression. Whatever they had discussed in this room about her, Crispin’s brother did not seem to fully judge her. Yet. “I look forward to it, Gemma.”

“As do I, Your Grace,” she said with a slight incline of her head.

“Great God, woman—
Rafe
,” he said with a laugh as he hugged first his brother and then gently embraced her. “You are my sister now. You can’t ‘Your Grace’ me or I shall expire.”

Gemma stood in stunned shock as the rest of the family repeated the embrace that Rafe had begun, each murmuring words of encouragement and support. Even Rivers pulled her closer for a moment.

“They’re a family worth joining, my lady,” he said. “But we protect our own.”

When she pulled back, she looked at him, but his face was unreadable. He merely smiled mildly and followed as the entire group escorted them to the carriage outside. But as they waved them off and they drove away, Gemma couldn’t help thinking that whatever had happened in the billiards room was going to have broader reaching repercussions. And she wasn’t certain she wanted to deal with those.

Not now. Not ever.

Crispin watched as Gemma picked at what was left of her supper, running the fork over the remnants of chicken and vegetables. When they had returned home in the late afternoon, she had retired to his chamber, but she clearly hadn’t gotten any rest there. There were dark smudges beneath her gray eyes and a sad expression on her face that gave him an odd desire to take her hand or let her rest her cheek on his shoulder.

But there were distances to be kept and unanswered questions which required addressing. Of course, everything in him told him to follow his normal mode of behavior and ignore the unpleasant duty at hand, but he couldn’t. This had to be dealt with.

He cleared his throat. “Why don’t we retire to the parlor, Gemma, since neither of us seems especially hungry?”

She jolted, as if she had been daydreaming and forgotten he was there. He had to wonder if she had only been thinking about their situation, or if other thoughts plagued her.

She glanced down at her plate and frowned. “I hope your cook will not be offended. The food is delicious, I am just…”

He held up a hand. “I think everyone in my household is aware these are trying circumstances. I’m sure she will not be offended, especially since I will be certain we pass our apologies to her.”

Gemma’s face relaxed a little. As Crispin motioned to one of the footmen that they were finished, he shook his head slightly. Worrying about hurting the feelings of a cook didn’t seem to match with the idea that this woman was some kind of killer.

They stood at the same time and he came around the table to offer her an arm, which she took with only a slight hesitation. When her fingers closed gently around his bicep, Crispin felt her touch all the way to his gut. It was odd how visceral a reaction he had when she laid her hands on him. The few times it had happened so far had lit his body on fire.

But he had no idea of their future, there was no reason to allow desire to confuse the issue. He led her to the parlor and closed the door behind them. She pulled away from his arm and walked to the settee beside the fire. He leaned against the door and watched her settle in, her frown still deep and troubled.

“Would you like a drink, my lady?”

She jerked her attention to his face before she slowly looked across the room toward the sideboard. “Do you think that is wise?”

He flinched. So she was already judging him a drunkard. Of course how could she not? She had seen what damage he could do when inebriated. Who else but a man with no control would go so far?

“One for you, Gemma and
one
for me to take the edge off. I promise.”

She seemed to ponder the wisdom of this suggestion for long enough that Crispin began to salivate for the brandy that all but seemed to glow on the table.

“Very well,” she finally capitulated, and he almost sagged with relief. He hadn’t had a drink all day and his hands shook as he moved to remedy that. He poured them each a glass and returned to her.

“It’s strong,” he cautioned, uncertain if any such spirits had ever passed her lips.

She shrugged one shoulder delicately. “I’ve had brandy before. And perhaps we need strong right now. I certainly feel very weak at present.”