Some Like It Wicked (Hellion's Den)
Page 25
Jane had been absolutely correct to accuse him of fearing to stand upon his own. For too long he had allowed his uncle’s bitter accusations to rule his life.
He was a hellion tainted by the blood of his feckless parents. He was doomed to bring nothing but shame to his family. He could offer nothing but scandal and betrayal to those he loved.
It was not until he had truly stood upon his own feet that he had at last banished the wounds that had never fully healed.
He might very well be a hellion, but he had far more to offer than mere scandal.
A wondrous realization, but one that might very well have come too late.
“It is not quite so simple,” he admitted with a sigh.
Biddles gave a lift of his brows. “Actually I have discovered much to my surprise that it is precisely that simple.”
“Not with Jane.” A pain wrenched through his heart at the mere mention of her name. “From the beginning I attempted to command and bully and manipulate her. I claimed to admire her independent spirit even as I sought to seduce her to my will.”
There was a short pause as his friend closely scrutinized his grimly set features.
“So you believe it more noble to condemn her to a life with a gentleman who could never possibly love her as you do?”
Hellion resisted the urge to lash out. Biddles was only concerned for him. And it certainly was not the poor gentleman’s fault that Hellion had managed to make such a hash of things.
“I believe it more noble to give her the freedom to decide if she wishes to hear my words of love.”
Biddles made a sound that adequately revealed his disgust at such a chivalrous gesture.
“She can hardly make such a decision while she is in Surrey. Since you have forbidden Anna to reveal our little enterprise she might very well presume that you are currently seeking your fortune with another heiress.”
Just for a moment Hellion struggled to breathe. It was a risk he was vibrantly aware of. In truth, the fear that she might have already condemned him to the netherworld in favor of a dull, tediously loyal farmer made him break out in a sweat during the dark hours of the night.
It was only by recalling her fragile features and eyes darkened with pain during their last encounter that kept him from rushing to Surrey and simply tossing her over his shoulder.
Thus far he had done everything wrong that could be done wrong in dealing with Miss Jane Middleton.
For once he was determined to do matters right.
Clearing his throat Hellion sent his friend a rueful smile.
“Actually I possess high hopes she will soon be returning to London.”
“Are you daft?” Biddles demanded. “I should think she would sooner toss herself from the nearest cliff. Her previous visit could hardly have inspired a love for the city.”
“We shall see,” Hellion murmured.
Biddles abruptly paused, his gaze narrowing as he watched Hellion absently straighten the candlestick upon the desk.
“I recognize that expression. What are you plotting, Hellion?”
Well aware the cunning little ferret would sniff out the truth within moments if he did not take care, Hellion deliberately settled his features into a stark warning.
“Nothing nefarious on this occasion,” he retorted. “I have merely offered Jane an opportunity to reveal if she has washed her hands of me for good or if she still cares. We shall discover the truth of the matter within a few days.”
The pointed nose twitched with pained curiosity, but for once in his life Biddles seemed to realize that his interference would not be tolerated.
“I wish you luck, my friend,” he at last conceded to the inevitable.
“Thank you.” Hellion smiled wryly. “When it comes to Miss Middleton I shall need all the luck I can muster.”
The hotel was one of the finest in London.
Well situated in a quiet neighborhood it catered to those wealthy patrons who preferred a peaceful elegance during their brief stay in the city.
Not that Jane particularly cared that her chambers were furnished with highly polished mahogany, or that the servants had been trained to meet her needs without so much as stirring the air.
She was in London only for one purpose.
To confront Hellion and discover why he had returned the five thousand pounds she had paid to him.
Pacing across the floral-patterned carpet, Jane absentmindedly shredded the handkerchief in her fingers.
She had been utterly shocked when the servant had arrived at her home in Surrey. She had not expected Hellion to attempt to contact her. Not after their less-than-harmonious parting. And she most certainly had not expected to be handed a package containing the small fortune.
Why would he do such a thing? Anger? Pride? A need to banish her utterly from his life?
Whatever the cause Jane had discovered herself consumed with a fierce, unexplainable fury.
Was it not enough that he could not return her love as she desired? Or that he remained so sharply seared into her heart that she could not even imagine wedding another? Or that she felt so alone she physically ached?
Did he also need toss away her one gift as if it were utterly meaningless?
It was unbearable, she had decided. And so, refusing to give herself the opportunity to consider her actions, she had hastily packed her bags and taken off for the city.
She wanted to see Hellion. To hear from his lips his explanation.
Arriving at the hotel the previous evening she had immediately sent a note to Hellion’s town house. Somehow she had expected a response by the time she had awakened this morning. Not that she was vain enough to suppose he would rush to her side in a flurry of anticipation. Hellion would never be so gauche. But surely he would be at least mildly curious at her sudden arrival?
The day had passed, however, with not the slightest indication that Hellion had received her message and a new fear had bloomed within Jane’s heart.
What if he ignored her missive? What if he decided that she was not worth the effort of meeting?
Her heart clutched at the mere thought. No. Dear God, no. She had endured so much over the past months. She could not bear to discover that Hellion would deliberately cut her.
The day passed with a ghastly silence and she had worked herself into such a state of nerves that when the knock at last fell upon her door she nearly leaped from her skin.
“At last,” she gritted, tripping over the hem of her plain gown in her haste to pull open the door. “I had begun to think . . . oh.” Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at the uniformed servant who stood in the hallway. “What is it?”
“Good evening, Miss Middleton.” The servant performed a deep bow. “Mr. Caulfield sent me to meet you.”
She gripped the door as her heart threatened to break in two. “He is not coming?”
“He requested that I take you to him. I assure you that it is not far.”
She blinked in surprise. This was not what she had expected at all. And indeed, she was not certain that she shouldn’t be a tad offended by his cavalier treatment.
Still, she had traveled all the way to London to meet with him. It would be ridiculous to waste the journey just because her pride had been pricked.
“Very well.”
Turning about Jane gathered her straw bonnet as well as her gloves and the small packet upon a low table before stepping through the door and closing it behind her. In silence they descended to the lobby of the hotel and out the door to where a polished black carriage awaited her.
With a sense she was losing command of the situation she allowed the groom to settle her upon the leather seat before they were abruptly moving through the thick London traffic. Alone with her thoughts Jane sternly attempted to dismiss the faint ball of tension that had settled in the pit of her stomach.
There was nothing to make her uneasy, she sternly reminded herself. She would return the money to Hellion and be on her way. A simple transaction.
The last transaction she had conducted with Hellion had cost her heart, her future, and any hope for the convenient marriage she had hoped to contract.
There was absolutely nothing simple when it came to Hellion.
Lost in her thoughts Jane paid no heed as they slowly weaved their way through the narrow streets. She did not even glance out the window when they at last pulled to a halt and the groom was helping her alight.
It was not until a slender gentleman attired in a modest black coat and breeches came forward to take her arm that she at last bothered to take notice of her surroundings.
What she discovered made her eyes narrow in confusion.
“Good heavens,” she muttered, easily able to identify the old coffeehouse despite the obvious changes. “There must be some mistake.”
“No, there is no mistake,” the young man insisted with a smile, steering her firmly through the open door. “Mr. Caulfield is expecting you.”
Far too bemused to argue Jane discovered herself stumbling over the threshold, her eyes widening at the sight within.
Gone was the shabby air of neglect and forlorn emptiness that had haunted the building. In its place was a warm, decidedly masculine club with polished teak paneling and a vast crowd of elegant gentlemen standing or lounging about the various tables.
She barely had the opportunity to study the loud, decidedly boisterous guests as she was firmly steered toward the narrow stairs and led upward.
“Do not fear, Mr. Caulfield is in his private chambers,” the young gentleman murmured close to her ear.
She gave a baffled shake of her head. “Is this a gambling hell?”
“Yes, miss.” An undoubted expression of pride settled upon the slender features. “The finest in all of London. Most nights a gent cannot get through the door.”
That much was obvious. As a businesswoman she fully appreciated the undoubted eagerness of the crowd gathered about the room. But it did not explain what she was doing here.
“When did this open?” she demanded, knowing it had to have been recently. After all, she had sold the property only a few months before.
“Mr. Caulfield opened the doors just three months ago.”
Jane stumbled upon the stairs, her heart halting in shock. “Hellion? This belongs to Hellion?”
“To him and Lord Bidwell,” he clarified.
Jane struggled to accept the astonishing confession. Hellion. The owner of a gambling hell? It seemed impossible. Utterly unthinkable.
Oh, it was not that she did not realize Hellion was perfectly capable of such an accomplishment. She had told him of her belief before she had left London. And of course he had revealed a decided interest in the coffeehouse when he first visited the establishment.
But. . .
What?
Could it be that she had not truly expected him to forge so brilliantly forward while she still brooded upon the past?
Could it be that she was so petty as to begrudge his obvious success?
“Good God,” she muttered, realizing that she was indeed that petty.
Thankfully misunderstanding her muttered exclamation her companion offered a pleased smile.
“Quite astonishing, is it not?”
Her own smile was stiff. “Words fail me.”
Reaching the landing, he led her to the far door and pushed it open. “Here we are.”
Before she was prepared he offered a bow and turned to disappear back down the stairs. Left on her own Jane momentarily wavered. Damn and blast. It had all seemed such an easy matter when she had packed her bags in Surrey. Now she wondered if she had not made some horrid mistake.
Still, she could not hover in the hallway forever, she sternly chastised herself. She had no choice but to go forward.
Squaring her shoulders she forced her feet to take her over the threshold, already prepared for her heart to stop beating and her breath to catch as Hellion rose from behind a desk and moved toward her.
God. He was just as achingly beautiful as she remembered. His hair a perfect gold. His eyes dark as sin. His male features blessed by an angel. And his elegant form enough to make any woman flutter in pleasure.
And flutter she did.
And ache.
And curse the fate that had brought this gentleman into her life and into her heart only to snatch him away.
“Ah . . . Jane.” With an oddly searching gaze Hellion led her across the room, removing her bonnet and then her gloves with gentle movements since she seemed quite incapable of dealing with the mundane tasks on her own. Then with a firm insistence he pressed her into a cushioned chair. “May I say you are appearing as lovely as ever?”
Giving a shake of her head Jane struggled to regain her shattered composure.
“Thank you.”
He leaned against the desk, his leg brushing her own in the cramped space. Jane gritted her teeth at the sharp flare of pleasure that jolted through her.
“I pray you will forgive me for not calling upon you as you requested,” he said smoothly. “I have discovered it is devilishly difficult to leave the club when business is so brisk.”
“Yes.” She was forced to halt and clear her throat. “Your servant revealed that you own this establishment.”
“Along with Biddles.”
“But . . . how?”
He smiled ruefully at the blunt question. “Like any other investor, I would imagine. I purchased the property at quite a reasonable rate, as you must know, and sold my town house for the initial costs. After that it was sheer luck that made Hellion’s Den the favorite among the gentlemen of the Ton.”
His offhand manner did not fool Jane for a moment. She learned the art of trade before she had cut her teeth. No one knew better than she the difficulties involved in creating such an enterprise.
“No,” she said slowly. “Success in business is never a matter of luck.’ Tis obvious you have a gift.”
He folded his arms across his chest, a worrisome expression upon his countenance.
“You seem surprised,” he murmured.
Surprised. Stunned. Utterly befuddled. That about summed it up.
“I suppose I am just caught off guard.”
“It was you who claimed that I could achieve whatever I set my mind to,” he reminded her.
“I . . . Yes.”
“Of course I did not believe you at the time. No doubt because I was utterly furious with you, and my feelings more than a bit wounded.” His lips twisted at her small wince. “Once I had time to soothe my ruffled pride I decided I could do no worse than fail. A fate that suddenly did not seem quite so frightening as it once did.”
Her eyes dropped to the forgotten packet in her lap. “I am quite pleased for you.”
“I am pleased as well,” he retorted. “For the first time, in a very long time, I feel quite proud of myself.”
Absurdly his words seemed like a dagger through her heart. Stop it, she told herself fiercely. She was the one who had urged Hellion to stand on his own. To discover the strength he possessed within.
Only a despicable wretch would wish he were as miserable as herself.
“You should,” she forced herself to mutter. “You have obviously achieved a success that anyone would envy.”
“I do not know about envy, but I have managed a newfound independence.” He gave a soft chuckle. “And best of all my uncle is nearly foaming at the mouth at the thought that I have sullied his name with such a sordid enterprise.”
With an effort she lifted her reluctant lashes and offered what she hoped would pass as a smile.
“So, you had your revenge after all.”
He gave a lift of his slender hand. “Not the way I had anticipated, but it is sweet nonetheless.”
Jane swallowed heavily. Dear heaven, this was unbearable. She had not realized just how difficult it would be to be in his presence again.
Or perhaps she had known and sim
ply chose to ignore the warnings of her heart, a small voice whispered.
Just maybe she had been so desperate to see him once more that she had refused to ponder the consequences of her hasty flight to London.
The shocking thought was enough to make her squirm in her seat. Go. She should go. Preferably before she managed to make even more of a fool of herself.
But first she had to complete the duty that had brought her here.
“I suppose I should not keep you when you are so busy,” she muttered.
Hellion did not move, but Jane easily sensed the tension that hardened his elegant frame. Much like a tiger coiling to pounce.
“I am in no hurry,” he drawled, his gaze glittering from beneath his half-lowered lashes. “Although I must confess an interest in what brings you to London. As I recall you once said you would rather face the hangman’s noose as to return.”
She frowned at the unnecessary reminder. “I would not have if it were not a matter of some import.”
“A business matter?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Before she could question the wisdom of her decision she jerkily reached out to thrust the packet into his hand. “I have come to return this.”
Oddly his gaze did not waver from her strained features, as if he were utterly indifferent to the mysterious bundle loosely gripped in his fingers.
“Why?”
“It is the five thousand pounds you sent to Surrey.”
She was uncertain what she had expected. Surprise? Relief? Frustration?
At least something beyond the mild lift of his brows. “You traveled all the way to London to return money that rightfully belongs to you?”
Somehow his bland question made her feel as if she had foolishly overreacted.
“We had a bargain,” she gritted with a tilt of her chin.
“A bargain that failed, if you will recall. You did not discover a husband.” His lips twisted in a humorless smile. “At least not one you desired.”
A painful heat crawled beneath her skin. Blast. He was not supposed to mention such an awkward subject.
“Our agreement was simply that you bring me to the notice of society. You fulfilled your duty and I must fulfill mine.”