The Danger of Desire

by Sabrina Jeffries

  “You’re the one who said it, not me,” he said defensively. “She’s your wife. You ought to know what she’s capable of.”

  A direct hit. He had said those unfair words about what she might do. He couldn’t blame Hart for taking them at face value.

  Hart didn’t know Delia. And yes, Warren ought to. If he was truthful with himself, he already did. He certainly knew she wasn’t capable of running off half-cocked to ruin his family.

  She might be reckless of her own safety, but he’d never seen her expose her family to scandal, never seen her try deliberately to hurt him. Yet he had behaved as if she couldn’t handle her own affairs.

  Meanwhile, he’d done things to put her at risk—by showing up repeatedly at Dickson’s, bullying her servant into not going . . . putting her in a situation where she had to marry him.

  Well, that last, he hadn’t done on purpose. But the result had been the same. The end of her freedom. So she was right about his methods not working any better than hers.

  “So you don’t think she’d expose me as a card cheat,” Hart said.

  He sighed. “No. Not under the circumstances. If anyone understands doing stupid things to protect family, it’s my wife.”

  “I figured as much, but you never know. Some people surprise you.”

  “Yes.” Like his brother, and his wife, who’d taken his nightmares in stride even as he pushed her away. The thought of it lodged a lump firmly in his throat.

  “I’m going to pay back every penny of the money I won from Reynold Trevor.”

  “You certainly are.” Warren glanced at his brother. “Do you even have it anymore?”

  “Well . . . not all of it. But—”

  “Then I’ll pay it.”

  “You will not!” Hart glared at him. “She’s right about you, you know. You’re so busy ‘protecting’ us from everything, you forget we’re perfectly able to handle our own lives. I’ll get the money and repay every penny, even if I have to borrow it for now. You can be sure of that.”

  Warren choked down a hot retort. Time to learn from his mistakes. “Would you consider . . . accepting a loan from me, then?”

  Hart looked embarrassed. “I might. I don’t know. I think I can get the money together, but it would take time. How . . . um . . . bad is it with her family? Trevor’s wife, I mean?”

  “Bad. I’ve spoken to the bank about stopping the foreclosure on the estate, and I’ve offered to pay the mortgage until things can improve. But Reynold’s son—”

  “Oh, God, he had a child, too?” Hart dropped into a chair, looking like someone had just smacked him. “I really mucked things up, didn’t I?”

  “You couldn’t have known. And to be fair, Reynold Trevor had no business making such a wager since he knew what was at stake.”

  “I wish I’d known what was really at stake. I would have refused to play him.”

  Warren threaded his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know if it would have made a difference. He was clearly bent on . . . settling a score of some kind. He would have found someone else to take the wager.”

  “So her brother wasn’t looking for Niall to get revenge on him because of the duel.”

  “I doubt it. But he might have had another equally disastrous reason. Delia and I recently learned that Niall and Reynold’s widow knew each other before Reynold married her. And you know how men can be with rivals for their wives’ affections.”

  “Oh, I do. Just look at how much my good-natured flirtations with your wife irritated you.”

  Warren shot him a sharp glance. “Don’t flatter yourself. Delia wouldn’t even consider you as a lover.”

  “Of course not. She’s in love with you. Even if she hadn’t said so, any dolt could see it. I would kill to have a woman look at me the way she looks at you.”

  “Which is how?” Warren asked hoarsely.

  “As if you are the key to paradise.”

  Warren frowned. “Not today, she doesn’t.”

  “No, but she will again. As long as you show her, tell her, that you’re in love with her, too.”

  “But . . . what if I’m not?”

  Hart snorted. “Don’t be an idiot. Of course you’re in love with her. I can see how you look at her, too. As if you need her. Want her. Are desperate to be with her. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what you’d call it.”

  “You don’t understand,” Warren choked out. “Loving her means I could hurt her. Worse than you can possibly imagine.”

  “And not loving her means you might lose her. Which would you prefer?”

  Warren gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to lose her, that was certain.

  “Besides, from what I understand, loving someone isn’t really a choice. You either do or you don’t. And you do. Don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  It was true. What had Delia said last night after he’d told her she shouldn’t love him? Can’t help it.

  Neither could he. He didn’t want to be in love with a woman who drove him mad. Who made him do things he feared, risk things he shouldn’t, desire things he’d never desired before. But he did. It was a simple, undeniable fact.

  Perhaps it was time he accepted it. And that meant he had to show her that he did trust her, that he could be the husband she needed. That he was at least willing to try.

  But how?

  “Tell me what to do,” Warren rasped.

  “You’re asking my advice?”

  “You’re my brother. It goes both ways.”

  “About damned time you realized that,” Hart muttered.

  “I don’t want her suffering alone through whatever truths she finds out about Reynold and Brilliana. I need to be there, but she doesn’t want me there.”

  “She does want you there, but as the husband who loves her—not as the Marquess of Knightford who wants to fix everything for her. So only go if you can stand beside her, not in front of her. Can you do that?”

  “Yes. I think so.”

  He had to. So he could tell her that he loved her before she gave up on him. Because if she did that, life would simply not be worth living anymore.

  Twenty-Five

  Delia arrived at Stoke Towers just as most of the guests were rising. As she entered the breakfast room, Clarissa waylaid her. “My dear, what are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

  Forcing a smile to her lips, Delia said, “Not in the least. But I need to speak to my sister-in-law.”

  “She’s still in her room, I believe.” Clarissa eyed her closely. “Is Warren with you?”

  “No, he stayed in town. Business matters, you know.”

  “Oh, of course.” Clarissa searched her face. “Shall I have a servant fetch Brilliana?”

  “No. This is a conversation best held in private.” She started for the stairs, then paused. “Tell me something. Has your brother been here . . . much since we left?”

  “Not at all, actually,” Clarissa said. “After your wedding, he went back to Margrave Manor and stayed there. I had thought that perhaps he and Brilliana were . . . well . . . interested in each other, but it appears I was mistaken.”

  Not as mistaken as she thought. “I see,” Delia said tightly. “Thank you.”

  Delia headed up the stairs, feeling as if her heart was being knocked about in a whirlwind. A part of her felt horrible about how she’d left things with Warren. Another part of her said she’d had every reason to be upset. His brother had cheated hers!

  But with good reason, or so Hart claimed. Meanwhile, her own brother had abandoned his family. Reynold had lied about his reasons for going to London. Reynold had . . .

  No, she wouldn’t think about it. Not until she knew everything.

  She found Brilliana in her bedchamber, just as Clarissa had said. And her sister-in-law, who was standing before the mirror putting the finishing touches to her hair, looked shocked to see her.

  “My dear!” Brilliana exclaimed as Delia entered. “What are you doing here?”

 
; No point in mincing words. “I’m trying to learn the truth.” She sat down on the bed. “I found the man who cheated Reynold.”

  Brilliana gaped at her. “You did? Was it anyone we know?”

  “Sort of.” Delia steadied her nerves. “It was Warren’s brother Hart. It turns out that Reynold traveled to London because he was in search of Lord Margrave. That’s how he came to be playing cards with Hart. And how he came to lose so much money to him. Because he wagered three thousand pounds in exchange for information about Lord Margrave’s whereabouts.”

  Brilliana went utterly white. “Oh, Lord.”

  “So now I need to hear the truth from you. What exactly was the nature of your friendship with Lord Margrave? And did Reynold know?”

  Her sister-in-law crumpled onto the bed beside her. “I’d hoped that he didn’t. Lord knows I tried hard to keep it from him all these years. But . . .”

  “But?”

  “I wondered if Reynold might have found out something before he rushed off to London.”

  Feeling as if her blood might erupt from her veins, Delia gazed at her sister-in-law. “Why would you think he’d found out, if you didn’t tell him?”

  Brilliana wouldn’t look at her. “I found him one day . . . looking through a bunch of my old sketches I kept . . . rather hidden in my chest of drawers.”

  “And you had a sketch of Lord Margrave in it.”

  “More than one. Quite a few, actually.”

  “Enough to tell him that there was something between you.”

  Brilliana bobbed her head.

  So Hart hadn’t been lying about his reasons for cheating. Not that Delia had really thought he was. It would have been an odd coincidence indeed for him to drum up a story about her relations and his, without part of it being true.

  Still, he’d cheated Reynold, destroyed their lives. He ought to be held accountable for that. Though she didn’t see how he would, given her husband’s urgent need to protect everyone.

  She couldn’t think about that right now. “What did you tell him was the nature of your friendship with Lord Margrave?”

  Brilliana shot her a sharp glance. “That’s none of your concern.”

  “It is if it helps me understand why Reynold did what he did.”

  “And what is that?” Brilliana snapped. “That he lost all our money? Stumbled off a bridge drunk and drowned himself?”

  It was Delia’s turn to look away.

  Her sister-in-law released a harsh breath. “He didn’t . . . It wasn’t . . . Reynold didn’t die by accident, did he?”

  It was time Brilliana knew. “No.” When her sister-in-law gave an anguished cry, Delia added hastily, “His note said not to tell you, but—”

  “He left a note?” Brilliana said. “And you kept it from me?”

  “You had so much to endure already! I didn’t want to heap more troubles upon you.”

  “It was my right to know!”

  Delia’s heart shivered in her chest. Brilliana was right. Delia should have told her. Here she’d been accusing Warren of protecting people from dealing with things on their own, and she’d been guilty of exactly that.

  She sighed. She and her husband were quite a pair.

  Brilliana thrust out her chin. “Do you have the note with you? Can I see it?”

  “I burned it. But I can tell you what it said.”

  After Delia recited the note, her sister-in-law moaned. “I should have realized . . . or perhaps I always did. I just didn’t want to accept it. After Silas was born, Reynold got more desperate to have me love him. He always said he loved me to desperation. And I . . . wanted to love him. I tried. But I was—”

  “In love with someone else. I know.”

  “Delia—”

  “I don’t need to hear the details. But admit it. At some point, you were in love with Lord Margrave. And Reynold found out and—I don’t know—had to meet his rival? Get rid of his rival?”

  She blinked. “Surely he never meant to do that!”

  “People do a lot of foolish things for love. So perhaps that was why he was willing to go to great lengths to find out where Lord Margrave was.”

  Brilliana jumped up from the bed. “Yes, but I wasn’t . . . I didn’t . . . After Lord Margrave left England, I cut him out of my life. From the time I married, I was entirely faithful to my husband. Reynold knew that, because he’d heard about the duel and Margrave’s fleeing the country before I even met Reynold.”

  “It’s one thing to cut someone out of your life. Cutting them out of your heart? That’s quite a bit harder.” She softened her voice. “And judging from the way you reacted when you saw Lord Margrave the other day, you never managed to do that.”

  Brilliana stiffened. “That’s not true! I was just . . . startled to see him after all these years. But after what I went through with him . . . I just couldn’t risk my heart again, don’t you see . . . ?” She trailed off on a sob.

  “And Reynold knew.”

  “I’m s-so sorry!” Brilliana stammered. “Your brother was a good man. He just . . . wanted something from me I couldn’t give.” She started weeping. “I-it was my fault he died, isn’t it? He killed himself because of me!”

  Delia leapt up to enfold her in a tight embrace. “It was not your fault. Don’t take that burden upon yourself. He sealed his fate when he bought you as a wife.”

  She clutched Brilliana close, her own tears starting to flow. Her poor brother—thinking he could somehow coax Brilliana into loving him, even though their fathers had essentially arranged the marriage. And when coaxing hadn’t worked, and trying to locate the man who’d once had his wife’s heart didn’t work, it must have made him a little mad.

  No wonder he’d jumped. How desperate he must have been, to find himself not only lacking his wife’s affections but also having lost everything else that might secure her respect.

  Delia choked down her sorrow. Oh, how she wished he’d confided in her from the beginning. Perhaps all of this might have been avoided.

  Then again, perhaps not. “Trying to force love to bloom has repercussions,” she murmured to Brilliana. “Women are stubborn about their hearts. They love who they love. And there isn’t a bloody thing the men—or the women—can do about it. It’s just so awful that Reynold couldn’t see that.”

  Brilliana drew back to gape at her. “You said bloody!”

  Delia blinked at her. That was what she noticed? Helpless laughter rolled up out of her. “You have no idea how my vocabulary has changed in the last few weeks.”

  Her sister-in-law stared at her wide-eyed; then she, too, started to laugh. It was the laugh of a woman who couldn’t alter her circumstances but realized the absurdity of them.

  For a long while they clung to each other, laughing and crying and pouring out all their pain and frustration with the men in their lives, by doing what women always do: letting the emotions overtake them, giving their hearts free rein.

  When the crying and laughing had run its course, and they’d both settled down on the bed, Brilliana smiled sadly at Delia. “At least we now know Reynold hadn’t fallen into your papa’s bad habits.”

  Delia swallowed past the lump in her throat. “True. And losing everything in an attempt to gain love . . . isn’t the worst thing a man can do, I suppose.”

  Brilliana nodded, then nudged Delia with her knee. “Speaking of love, tell me how you’re enjoying married life.” An anxious frown crossed her face. “It’s not like . . . Reynold and me, is it?”

  “No.” She ignored the tears welling anew in her throat. “I don’t know. He’s . . . hard to explain.” Without betraying his secrets, which she refused to do.

  “Do you love him?”

  “Yes.” That much was firm.

  “Does he love you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “So . . . in essence, you’re in Reynold’s situation.”

  “Not exactly,” she said with a rueful smile. “My husband wasn’t ever in love with anyo
ne else. I’m just not sure—”

  A knock came at the door, startling them both.

  Brilliana went to open the door. “Yes?”

  A footman glanced in and spotted Delia sitting on the bed. “Lord Knightford wanted me to inform his wife that he’s here. If she needs him.”

  If she needs him? That didn’t sound at all like Warren.

  Her heart racing, she said, “Tell his lordship I’ll be down shortly.”

  “Very good, milady,” he said, then left.

  “Lord Knightford didn’t come here with you?” Brilliana asked.

  “No. I wanted a chance to talk to you without his hovering about.” She brushed tears from her eyes. “And apparently, he gave me one.”

  Though he had still come after her. She didn’t know what to make of that.

  “Brilliana—”

  “Go, my dear.” Brilliana pressed her hand. “Talk to your husband. It will all be fine, I promise.”

  Oh, Lord, she certainly hoped so.

  She found Warren pacing the drawing room, looking as uncertain as she felt.

  As soon as she came in, he faced her with a wary expression. “I didn’t want you to . . . I was worried . . . Oh, God, I don’t know what to say. Except that I couldn’t bear the thought of your being here all alone.”

  There was something endearing about his uncertainty. Warren was never unsure of himself.

  “All alone?” she tried to tease. “The house is teeming with people.”

  “You know what I mean. I didn’t want you to go through this without someone in your corner. I feared that Brilliana would tell you things that upset you. And I thought perhaps you would need a shoulder to . . . lean on.”

  The sweetness of that touched her deeply. “So you came to be my shoulder?”

  “If you wanted one, yes.” He let out a heavy breath. “What did she say?”

  “As I suspected, Reynold went to London to seek out your cousin because he was in love with Brilliana, and he couldn’t bear knowing she had loved someone else and now couldn’t love him.”

  “Niall.”

  “Yes.” She cast him a wry smile. “At least at one time, from what I gather. She wouldn’t give me details.” She sobered. “So Hart was telling the truth about trying to protect your cousin. About why he cheated Reynold.”