Still, she could not form the word. “I am not ready, Cam.”
Her heart had fooled her once before. It could fool her again.
“Have you forgotten you could be carrying my babe?” he demanded, his expression turning hard.
As hard as stone.
It seemed as if she could cut her fingers on his cheek bones or the rigidity of his jaw.
“I am not,” she denied, though she had no reason to suggest she wasn’t. She understood that she would not be free of worry until she had her courses, and those had yet to arrive.
“You cannot be certain,” he countered.
And he was not wrong in that, but she would never admit it.
“Even if I am, I will take care of myself,” she countered. “The babe will want for nothing. You need not fret over that. I’ve money aplenty to see him raised properly.”
For it was true. Dev had control of her portion of the Winter fortune, but she was sure she could convince him to relinquish it to her, to allow her to set herself up in a cottage somewhere. Anywhere she wished. She could do that. She was strong.
His grasp on her knees tightened. “The hell you will raise my child on your own. Eugie, you must see reason. I know you suffered because of Cunningham, and I promise you, I will enact my own vengeance upon him when the time comes, but I am not him. I want to marry you, and not just for your fortune, but for you.”
For you.
She had not expected those two, simple words to affect her as much as they did.
But they did.
She did not want to believe them. It hardly seemed possible a man could want her for herself. Indeed, it hardly seemed possible Cam could want her for herself. She still did not dare trust him. Even after all they had shared.
Her heart was such a fool.
She was weak, so very weak, for him.
“You need my dowry,” she countered, finding her tongue at last.
“I need you,” he returned, and the intensity of his gaze was undeniable.
“The mistletoe is over there,” she said weakly, gesturing to the part of the library they had abandoned.
“To the devil with the mistletoe.” He rose on his knees, and then his mouth was on hers once more.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she drew herself nearer to him. Wanting more. Wanting him so much she did not hear the library door click open or realize they were no longer alone until the shocked feminine gasp echoing through the massive chamber intruded upon her idyll.
She broke free of Cam, jerking her mouth from his too late.
The Duchess of Revelstoke stood on the threshold of the library, along with her son Viscount Aylesford, and another dowager who was a notorious gossip, the Marchioness of Heath.
“Hertford, is that you?” demanded the duchess, her tone horrified and strident.
Cutting through the silence like a slap.
“Damnation,” Cam muttered.
She stared down at him, her heart sinking like a leaden weight in her chest as the truth hit her with such force she almost cried out.
He had planned this farce.
And she would never, ever forgive him for it.
Chapter Twelve
“I ought to call you out for this.”
Devereaux Winter’s voice seethed with fury, and Cam did not blame him one whit. He was seated opposite Mr. Winter in the expansive study of Abingdon House, feeling as if he were facing his executioner.
“I would call me out as well,” he acknowledged into the biting silence. “I cannot convey how deeply sorry I am for causing the threat of more scandal for Eugie.”
“Eugie, is it?” Winter scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “You have daring, Hertford.”
What he had was stupidity and an aching cock.
But Cam wasn’t about to venture as much aloud. Because he was a fool, but he was not mad. And the prospect of matching Devereaux Winter in a bout of fisticuffs, swords, or pistols was not exactly heartening.
“Miss Winter,” he corrected himself. “Pray excuse my familiarity, Mr. Winter. I harbor a great deal of affection for your sister, though my unacceptable actions today did not demonstrate that.”
“Your actions were unacceptable, you say.” Winter’s voice was bitter, his lip curled in a sneer. “I would call them careless, thoughtless, selfish, and idiotic, more like.”
Cam swallowed. It went against the grain to allow himself to be maligned, especially by a man who was not a peer of the realm, but Devereaux Winter was a breed of his own, and Cam had compromised the man’s sister.
Far more thoroughly than he supposed.
And to Cam’s everlasting shame.
“I deserve every insult you choose to hurl my way,” he conceded. “And more. Believe me when I say harming Miss Winter’s reputation is the last thing I ever wanted to do.”
“Which is why you were alone with her in the library, pawing at her as if she were a Covent Garden lightskirt,” Winter said grimly.
His ears went hot, and another arrow of shame sank into his gut, chasing away the lingering hunger he felt for Eugie. At least for the moment. Until he thought of her again. Remembered the sweetness of her kiss or the lush eroticism of her scent.
“I deeply regret the nature of my actions earlier toward Miss Winter,” he forced himself to say. “I will be more than happy to do anything in my power to rectify the damage which has been done.”
Winter continued to glower at him. “What do you suggest? Marrying her and helping yourself to her fortune, I suppose.”
Yes, but not like that.
Marrying her because he had bedded her. Because she could be carrying his child. Because he had been trailing after her this entire blasted house party like a puppy following his master.
Most importantly of all, because he loved her.
He cleared his throat. “Mr. Winter, I have tender feelings for Miss Winter.”
“Tender feelings.” Winter watched him with the predatory stare of a hunter, looking for weakness, taking his aim.
“Yes.” He paused, for he had never before asked to marry a woman. And he had certainly never fallen in love with one, nor revealed his emotions to the brother of the lady in question. It was a deuced awkward affair.
“Naturally, your tender feelings have nothing to do with her dowry or the wealth she stands to receive upon her nuptials,” Winter said bitterly.
“It does not.” Cam searched for the proper words and found nothing. “I am drowning in my father’s debts, it is true. I have been honest with Miss Winter concerning my circumstances. Circumstances which, I trust, were also instrumental in my invitation to this house party.”
Winter raised a brow. “What are you suggesting, Hertford?”
“That it is no secret you are looking to secure titles for your sisters,” he said. “I find it odd indeed you should look down your nose at me for the same reasons you extended me your hospitality. I am in need of a wealthy wife, your sisters are on the marriage mart, and you are looking to acquire the respectability all the money in the world cannot buy.”
Mr. Winter drummed his fingers on the polished surface of the desk. “As I said, you have daring, Hertford.”
“I speak honestly,” he said, taking a deep breath before proceeding. “Which is why I must tell you the indiscretion in the library is not the first occasion during which I compromised Miss Winter.”
He would spare himself and Eugie both the embarrassment of revealing all to her brother, but he would not pretend to be innocent. If he was going to win Eugie as his wife, he owed it to the both of them to secure her hand in the right fashion. With honesty and integrity.
Or whatever shreds of those he still possessed.
“I beg your pardon,” Winter said then, with deceptive calm.
Deceptive because whilst his voice was even and cool, his visage had darkened, taking on a rigid, thunderous mien. He looked as if, at any moment, he would explode in a fit of violent rage.
“I have compromised Miss Winter befor
e today,” he elaborated.
“Was this a plan, then?” Winter asked, and again his voice was quiet.
He was the snake poised to strike.
“There was no plan,” he defended himself. “The truth of the matter is, I was privy to the gossip surrounding Miss Winter when I met her. I had deemed her unsuitable.”
Winter’s fist slammed down on the desk with such abrupt force, Cam nearly jumped. “How dare you?”
“But I fell in love with her,” he confessed, meeting Winter’s gaze, unflinching. “I am not certain when it happened or how. All I do know is that I cannot live without her as my wife, and not because of her fortune, but because of the lady herself. She turned any notions I had of her upon their head, and she made me realize a great deal about myself in the process.”
“You expect me to believe you are in love with my sister.” Winter stared at him now as if he were an escaped Bedlamite.
“I do not expect or require you to believe anything,” Cam said calmly. “Your belief or lack thereof will not make it any less true. I love Miss Winter, and it would be my greatest honor to make her my countess.”
“You truly love her?” Winter pressed.
“I do.” Cam did not hesitate in his response. Loving Eugie felt inevitable. It felt right. He wanted her in his life, at his side, in his bed. He wanted her roses in his garden, her books in his library, her hair fanned over his pillow every night, her lips on his.
“If you love her,” Winter began, watching him carefully now, “then you will marry her without her fortune.”
“Yes.” Once again, he did not waver. “Even if I must sell off the estates and everything remaining my bastard of a sire did not already take, I will marry her. Supposing she will deign to have me, of course.”
She had not agreed to wed him.
And after the stricken expression on her face earlier, he was not certain she would. But he was determined to try. He had to try, because the notion of marrying anyone else was impossible. It was Eugie Winter or no one at all.
“Then I am afraid that is what you must do,” Winter said. “I will grant my approval of a match between you and my sister, Hertford, but by the conditions of my father’s will, the fortunes of my sisters remain at my disposal until the births of their first children, or as I see fit. You will not see a shilling of her dowry upon your marriage to her.”
It was a blow he had not anticipated, to be sure, but Cam would weather it. He would make a plan. He had already begun the task of deciding which properties must go first. He would merely continue.
“I accept your conditions, sir,” he said.
“Oh, but I have one more,” Winter added, flashing him a grim smile. “My sister must agree to the match as well.”
“She will,” he vowed with a confidence that was perhaps fatuous.
But he had to believe he could win Eugie’s heart and her hand both. Because if he could not, he would be lost.
Eugie was shepherded to one of the smaller salons of Abingdon House—a yellow one dotted with dozens of portraits—by her sister-in-law, Lady Emilia. In the wake of her ignominy, a strange tumult of sensations buffeted her.
Disappointment.
Hurt.
Anger.
Self-loathing.
“Sit, dearest,” Lady Emilia ordered her.
Though her tone was gentle, it was firm. Eugie obeyed, settling herself upon a chair. “I am sorry I have ruined your marvelous party,” she apologized at once before her sister-in-law had had the chance to properly seat herself.
Emilia frowned at her as she descended gracefully upon a gilded settee. “I do not care about the party, Eugie. I care about you.”
Eugie fretted with the skirt of her gown, plucking at it as if it were an instrument string. “I am sorry for ruining myself.”
Her sister-in-law sighed. “You are not ruined. Yet. Whether or not you truly are depends upon what you choose to do next.”
“I will not marry him,” she denied swiftly. “I am sorry, my lady, but I cannot bear it.”
“Oh, Eugie.” Emilia sighed, her countenance softening. “Lord Hertford is the one after all, is he not?”
Eugie’s cheeks flushed, for there was no need for her sister-in-law to elaborate. Cam had always been the one. He was the only one. But he had betrayed her, and she could not trust him. “I have kissed him before today,” she admitted.
“You promised me you would not be so reckless,” Emilia chided.
Yes, she had, to her everlasting shame. But she was no match for the Earl of Hertford’s mouth or his knowing hands. How quickly she had fallen beneath his thrall. How easily he had manipulated her, wooed her. Tricked her into believing, for a desperate moment, everything he had told her was real.
That he wanted to marry her not because of her fortune, but because he cared for her. Because he wanted her. How wrong she had been.
“I am sorry,” she said, lowering her gaze to her lap, where her fingers were clenching her skirts so tightly, her knuckles had gone white. “I betrayed your trust, and I have brought shame upon you and my sisters. You were so good to do your utmost to restore my reputation after the lies Cunningham spread. I did not deserve your kindness before, and I do not deserve it now.”
“Nonsense,” Emilia said firmly. “You have a good heart, Eugie Winter, and you deserve every kindness. You also deserve happiness. You deserve to claim your place in society. You can do that now, and you will spare yourself and your sisters both.”
“By marrying him,” Eugie surmised. “But I cannot do that, Emilia. He arranged for us to be seen. I know he did—only think of it, we were interrupted by his friend and his friend’s mother and her bosom bow. He had been asking me to marry him for days, and I had told him I would not.”
“Why did you refuse him?” her sister-in-law asked.
“Because I do not dare trust him, for fear he will break my heart,” she admitted, biting her lip to stave off a rush of humiliating tears she had no wish to indulge.
Yes, there it was. The bitter, awful truth. She had fallen in love with the Earl of Hertford. Cam. The man who kissed her so sweetly, who had made love to her with such tenderness. The man she had been drawn to from the moment they had danced together at the welcome ball.
The man she could not shake.
She loved him. But she was terrified he did not love her in return. Fearful he only wanted her fortune, which he freely admitted he needed to save himself from ruin.
“Why would he break your heart?” Emilia’s shrewd voice cut through her wild thoughts.
“I have fallen in love with him,” she whispered. “But I have already been deceived and hurt badly by another. I did not love the baron, and I know that now. But if I were to discover Cam only wanted to marry me to avail himself of my fortune, I… I do not think I could bear it.”
“Eugie,” her sister-in-law pressed softly. “I understand all too well how you feel. Love is terrifying. It is like a massive beast, holding us in its grasp, with the power to keep us safe or crush us in equal measure. When I fell in love with your brother, I was fearful too. I ran from him, because running was easier than facing the way I felt.”
The love her brother and his wife shared was undeniable. The way they looked at each other was enough to warm her heart and to make her yearn for that same powerful connection. But Cam had never spoken one word of love to her. Nor did she expect him to, especially after the farce he had arranged earlier.
“It is different for you and Dev,” she insisted. “You are both desperately in love with each other.
“I believe you and the earl are in love with each other too,” Emilia said then. “I selected the guests for this house party with great care, doing my best to find gentlemen I believed could make good matches with you. Lord Hertford’s reputation, aside from today’s indiscretion, is impeccable. You could do no better. I also suspect he is in love with you, my dear. Otherwise, he would never behave in such a reckless fashion.”
&n
bsp; “He would if he wanted my share of the Winter wealth,” she argued, mulish.
“If that were true, he could have compromised you immediately. He could have arranged for such a tableau when he first kissed you,” her sister-in-law returned. “He could have left you without a choice well before now.”
As Emilia’s words took root in her mind, some of the anger she had been harboring toward Cam abated. He had been giving her a choice, had he not? Emilia was right. He could have forced her hand when he had first kissed her. Or later, when he had made love to her. He could have gone to Dev and revealed everything, leaving her with one option to save herself.
He had never hidden the truth about his debts. Indeed, he had always been open and honest about them. And whilst he had been asking her to marry him at every step of the way, he had always accepted her denial.
What if he had not arranged for them to be discovered earlier at all? What if he had been every bit as shocked at the interruption as she had been? What if she had been wrong about him, just as he had once been wrong about her?
“You have much to think about,” Emilia added gently. “This is not a matter of the next day or the next week. This is a matter of the rest of your life. I have spoken with your brother, and he is adamant that the choice must be yours and yours alone. He will not pressure you to accept Hertford’s offer of marriage, and neither shall I.”
“His offer of marriage?” she repeated. “Has he… He has gone to Dev, then?”
Lady Emilia nodded. “Of course he has. Your brother was furious when he heard the news. An interview was in order. You must have expected as much.”
She supposed she had, but somehow not as quickly as it had occurred. In the aftermath of her recklessness, she had been bustled from the chamber, separated from Cam as if she were kindling and he the flame and everyone feared they would burst into a raging fire at any second.
“I have never been truly ruined before,” she said at last, attempting levity. “Merely rumored to have been. I was not certain how such matters work.”
“Lord Hertford wishes an audience with you now, and Dev and I are willing to allow it,” Emilia surprised her by saying. “The door will remain ajar, and we will be near enough that if either one of you so much as coughs, we shall hear it. But this matter must be settled, and it must be done today. Tarrying much longer will only bring scandal down upon the both of you. Aylesford will not speak, and he assures me his mother shall not either, but the Marchioness of Heath will not be so generous.”
Wanton in Winter Page 11
