No. She even got as far as forming the shape with her lips. But then he leaned in to kiss her properly and it was gone. Lost to his tongue and talented lips, to his hand firm on her hip and the other on her neck.
Very well. She wouldn’t tell him now. She’d wait until he’d finished kissing her into oblivion. But afterward, she’d let him help her. After all, what better man to find and dig into the underbelly of London society than a gambling rogue. Evelyn would trust him with that at least. Anything more however, she’d guard herself more carefully from now on. It wouldn’t do to lose her heart to a gambler. Not when she couldn’t afford to risk it.
***
Pierce tapped his fingers against the table. This bloody Sir Lloyd chap was harder to find than a minnow in a lake. He lifted his glass and surveyed the contents before draining it and waving over a waiter for another. Though he had no intention of getting foxed, sitting here without a drink would look mighty odd, and he needed the warm tang to steal his courage.
Not that he was afraid of this Lloyd fellow, whom Evelyn was convinced was the answer to her problems. Nor was he bothered by the threat of loan sharks coming upon him or the owner of the club recognising him and wanting their money. He’d placate them enough with what money he did have from Evelyn. His monthly allowance as it was.
No, the churning in his stomach was twofold. Firstly because he feared greatly Evelyn would be disappointed. What if this debt was indeed an honest one? What if her late-husband had gambled away some of his son’s inheritance? If anyone knew how easily it could be done, it was he.
He released a long, thick breath. And the secondary reason for his apprehension? He glanced over at the cards table and saw their decks glinting up at him, almost winking, like a courtesan inviting him in for an illicit liaison. The flash of a red heart reminded him of pouty lips, the curve of the spades made him think of a woman poured into a tight dress. He gripped the glass tighter as the dealer handed out the cards.
The sound of the deck being shuffled echoed all too loudly in his ears. Come play, it said. Win back your pride.
Pierce snorted. Pride. It had no place in his life now. He was a rich woman’s lover. And as much as he’d rather be doing it for free, he couldn’t regret that his circumstances had brought him here. Well, perhaps not here, exactly. He’d certainly rather be in Evelyn’s townhouse, urging her to her knees so she could take him in her mouth and then proving to her that while she might own him in many ways, he could still make her his.
However, that his foolish bets and idiotic behaviour had brought him to her seemed a little too much like a touch of fate. He’d never met a woman like her. Hell, even now she was forcing a smile across his face and likely making him look a damn fool. What did he have to smile about anyhow? Debts, threats to his family, and a rich lover who would be kicking his arse out in two months time.
But the blasted grin refused to move. He didn’t like the thought of leaving her, even if he would be that much richer. That day last week where she’d flung herself in his arms and sobbed against this neck...Even now his gut tightened at the thought of it. He shouldn’t have liked seeing her upset. A better man probably wouldn’t. But to see the vulnerable side of Evelyn Chesworth, to know that she was willing to open herself up to him that way made his heart swell.
Damn heart. Even now it was making erratic movements that had nothing to do with the whiskey working its way through his body and everything to do with Evelyn.
Pierce needed to find out about this chap, track him down, and find out if this wager was indeed legitimate. Then he would continue on as before, making love to Evelyn, being her lover and nothing more, and then he’d be on his way. It was pretty much all he was useful for anyway.
The flick of cards hissed in his ear again and he watched the beautiful, easy movements as those cards flew across the table. How perfect it would be if he could win back his fortune. Then he could be her lover through choice rather than circumstance. Then he wouldn’t have to take a penny off her. Maybe—
Pierce stood, pushed the drink away. No. He wouldn’t win and Evelyn would be disgusted with him. It wasn’t worth upsetting her.
He drew out his pocket watch. It was getting late. This was the third club he’d frequented this week, and if Sir Lloyd was intending to arrive, he’d have done it by now. According to one of his friends from Boodle’s, the man hadn’t been seen in several weeks. He could have been staying at a country house somewhere or on the coast, perhaps, but it seemed odd a man with a solid business reputation would up and leave London without so much as a word. Someone had to know something.
A warm welcome and a warmer body awaited him at the townhouse. He’d send a telegram to his brother Julian to see if he knew anything. Or maybe pay a visit to Dante if he was in town. Both of them knew more of business than he did and might have some idea where this blasted man was.
As he left payment for the drinks and turned, a familiar face caught his eye. He narrowed his gaze as the grinning fair haired man headed his way.
“Cyn, you’re alive.”
“Yes, no thanks to you.”
Giles’ grin expanded. “I knew you’d do fine. Though we were a tad worried when we turned up to find no sign of you the next morning.”
“Oh, so you intended to come back for me when you left me naked at the side of the road, did you?”
His friend’s brow rose. “Come on now, don’t be sore about it. You made the wager after all.”
“About that. How exactly did that come about?”
“Well, if I’m honest we were all a little foxed.” He paused to signal for a drink. “But you said something about, if this hand wasn’t a winning hand, you’d run naked up the Oxford Road.”
Pierce shook his head. “What a fool.”
“Hey now, we’ve all done reckless things for the hope of a good hand. Are you off? There’s some good amounts to be won at this time of the evening.”
“No. I’ve somewhere to be. Good evening, Giles.”
He retrieved his hat and coat and stepped out into the night. Breathing in the cool, crisp air, he let a grin settle over his face. Gone was the aching need to finger those cards and feel that high when he knew he was close to winning. No, he had a better high now.
Evelyn.
Chapter Eleven
Evelyn tried not to feel as though a thousand butterflies were swarming around her stomach when Pierce sat at her side in the breakfast room. It was absurd, really, that he still had such an impact on her. No sign of their late night lingered under his eyes, unlike her. A little powder and rouge had definitely been called for, and if she had time, she’d have to indulge in a little nap later. There were benefits to having a younger lover but she did envy his energy.
“You never told me how last night went.”
No, instead he’d slipped into her bed and made love to her like a man drowning. Like a man needing to be rescued. She couldn’t help wonder...had he gambled last night?
Lord, she never should have agreed to let him help.
“No news I’m afraid. I have my doubts he’s going to turn up at one of the clubs and no one has heard a peep from him in weeks. I’m going to speak to Dante today. I believe he’s in town. He has his ear to the ground when it comes to these things.”
“Oh yes, I was planning to attend his wife’s exhibition. We could go today if you’d like. He’ll be attending too, will he not?”
“In all likelihood. I’ll come along, and if he’s not there, I’ll send a note around.”
“Excellent.”
Pierce leaned across and took her hand in his. She glanced at him, surprised. Yes, they were affectionate together in bed and yes, he’d consoled her the other day, but these tender moments would take some getting used to. And she wasn’t sure she even wanted to get used to them.
“Evelyn, I’ve been meaning to say...as I dig into this business there may be some, well, things brought to light.”
“Rupert was a good man.”
“All I’m saying is do not be disappointed if he confirms that the wager is legitimate. Prepare yourself for the worst.”
The worst. She’d suffered the worst. A child lost during labour and a husband dead to heart attack not long after. Nothing Pierce could find out would hurt her now. She simply wouldn’t let it.
“I knew Rupert to the bone.” She withdrew her hand and lifted a cup of tea to prevent him from repeating the action. “There won’t be any surprises, I can assure you of that.”
Disappointment flickered in his eyes and she doubted it was because of her refusal to accept the wager might have been legitimate. No, she suspected it was more to do with her not accepting his tender touches. But why would such a man even want affection from her? He was young, handsome, virile and soon he would be solvent again. He could have so very much in life.
And that was exactly what she wanted for her son. She couldn’t let Rupert’s memory be tarnished and her son’s inheritance broken into pieces. Everything had to stay as it was.
Everything.
Including her life. Pierce would have to leave it soon and things would go back to normal. Normal and safe.
They finished up their morning meal in near silence. Something sizzled in the air between them but Evelyn couldn’t say what. Tension, like thick morning fog, hung around them. She wanted to break through it, to find out what had changed last night, why he had made love to her with such desperation and tried touching her this morning. But the twisting sensation in her stomach wouldn’t let her. It was better not to know.
The exhibition opened at lunchtime but they’d breakfasted late, so Evelyn took the time to ready herself while Pierce wrote a letter to his brother. Josephine Cynfell was quite the artist and she looked forward to seeing her again. The last time she’d seen the woman had been at an art discussion and she couldn’t resist buying up one of her paintings. Back then, she’d been an unknown. Now the word was slowly spreading of this talented young woman and Evelyn couldn’t help be a little proud she’d recognised the woman’s worth.
Few men ever did. With the exception of Rupert and...perhaps Pierce. Her husband and her lover both seemed to have quite the measure of her. Of course it had taken Rupert a few years to come to terms with her personality. He regarded her with mild amusement much of the time and they enjoyed many funny moments together.
She took a moment to peer into the mirror and adjust her hat. Pressing a finger along the creases around her eyes, she grimaced. She was paying for those moments of amusement now. Did Pierce see those creases? It was odd, for he had seemed to accept her from their first meeting. She supposed that was why she’d known early on he was the perfect man to take on the job of her lover.
And what a fine job he did too. She’d have wonderful memories of times with him to carry her through the years, and once her son was back, she wouldn’t be alone. At least, not until he married and she moved into the dowager house. But there was no sense in thinking on that now.
Concluding there was little to be done about the wrinkles around her eyes, she spritzed on a little perfume and headed downstairs.
“Your carriage is ready, Your Grace,” the butler informed her.
“Thank you. Where is Lord Pierce?”
“Just finishing up a letter, I believe, Your Grace.”
Pierce emerged from the drawing room and handed a folded letter to the butler. For his brother, she assumed. She couldn’t see the address properly but she certainly hoped so. It would be awful if he’d fallen back into his old ways because of her.
Evelyn attempted not to let her gaze trail over him, particularly in front of the help, but he was hard to resist. His emerald green waistcoat showed off his eyes to perfection. A gold chain glinted from the pocket. She recalled a time he’d been pressed up against her and that same chain had pressed into her body. Heat rushed into her cheeks and she turned away quickly, but not before seeing the knowing glint in his eyes.
“Come then, Cynfell, or we’ll be late.” She swept past him and he chuckled.
“As you will, Your Grace.”
She imagined him presenting her with a mocking bow behind her back and forced her lips together so she didn’t smile too. Damn the man for toying with her. And damn her for liking it. Pierce Cynfell was far too easy to like.
“Have you seen Dante recently?” she asked as they settled into the carriage. His large family fascinated her. She’d grown up alone and though she would have loved to have had more children herself, after the loss of her last child and the struggle to conceive that baby, she had let go of that idea.
“In passing, a few months ago. He spends a lot of time in the country now. Josephine does her best work there apparently.” He released a dry laugh.
“Why is that amusing?”
“If you’d ever met Dante, you’d know why. I never would have considered country life to appeal to him. In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t. He used to be quite the life of the party and frequented many of the more important events.”
“I pay very little attention to gossip as you well know. Usually because it involves me in some way and I meet so many men...”
Pierce’s hand slipped over her skirts and grasped her knee through them. “I don’t want to hear of these many men.”
“Jealous, Cynfell?”
“Yes.” He turned toward her and darkness glinted in his eyes. Gone was the wry amusement and teasing smile. Her chest tightened, her heart hammered in time with the horses’ hooves. He reached over and stroked a finger down her cheek. “Do you like that I hate the idea of any other man garnering your attention?”
Her stomach near flipped over. Yes, she loved the idea. It was foolish and ridiculous to enjoy someone’s jealousy. And yet it appealed to some primitive part of her. That possessive streak never failed to set her body alight with excitement.
“Evelyn?” he prompted, his hand cupping her face then skimming down to curl around her neck.
Fingertips branded her skin. His touch simmered through her veins. His gaze dug deep inside her and opened up things she wished to keep locked away. “Do you like my jealousy?”
Her mouth was arid like the desert. When she tried to respond, words failed her. She, who could usually be counted upon to have a response to even the most inappropriate of questions. In spite of herself, in spite of wishing to keep any such confession to herself, she nodded.
An arrogant smile curved his jaw. Any other time, she’d have narrowed her eyes and turned away in disgust at such a smile, but she couldn’t help finding herself entranced by him. How many other men would dare look at her so?
Hand remaining on her neck, he leaned in and let his breath skim her lips. A sharp ache travelled through her, arrowing down until warmth pooled between her thighs. He likely knew it well too. Pierce Cynfell understood her body with an intimate knowledge that not even time could create. It was the sort of knowledge that was innate—a recognition of two bodies so in tune with one another that they didn’t need time or practice.
It was terrifying.
Exhilarating.
When his lips touched hers, lightning bolted between them. For a man who’d had his lips on many places on her body, it was astonishing a light kiss could cause such sensations. At her age, it was all the more surprising. How was it possible for him to send her reeling with a mere brush of his lips?
Pierce pressed the kiss deeper, coaxing her mouth open beneath his. She let him take the lead. Evelyn relaxed against him, like liquid forming to the shape of a bottle. He left her with little choice and she relished that. For too long she’d been forced to decide everything. Being in sole charge of her and her son’s destiny was a heady kind of power yet there were so many times when she’d wanted—no, needed—someone to take the reins, if just for a short while.
The carriage rocked to a stop and Pierce eased away slowly, not a hint of guilt for likely mussing her in his expression. She’d enter the exhibition with puffy lips and likely a few strands of hai
r out of place. That ache in her stomach turned into a warm glow. Like marks of his possession, those few little signs would ensure everyone knew her lover had been kissing her thoroughly before their arrival.
Lord, she shouldn’t like it, but she did, she really did.
The door opened, letting in light that made her feel as though she’d been hidden away in a dark cave for years. She followed Pierce out and blinked. That man really did have the oddest effect on her. Her knees were wobbly. How very unlike the cool, collected duchess she was today.
The exhibition was taking place in the assembly rooms where she’d first encountered Josephine Cynfell—or whatever her name was at the time, as she was unmarried at that point. The woman’s skill with a brush had caught Evelyn’s eye, and she knew her subsequent purchase and kind words of her painting had helped Josephine’s career. The artist, much like herself, had been determined to succeed on her own. Evelyn understood that need well but any praise had been thoroughly deserved and she couldn’t take any credit for Josephine’s skill. She was only grateful London had finally recognised such talent. Female artists were still in the minority.
Several of Josephine’s paintings lined the entrance hall, set beautifully amongst ferns and the pale blue walls. She paused to admire a painting of the docks.
“Your brother has a talented wife,” she commented to Pierce.
“Josephine is an impressive woman. Lord knows how Dante managed to persuade her to marry him. Speak of the devil...” He nodded his head in the direction of the man she assumed was Dante.
With similar coloured hair and handsome features, there was no doubting these men were brothers, though Dante was slightly leaner. Josephine near glowed as her husband moved in to whisper in her ear. Jealousy gripped her insides at the sight of their intimacy. She shook her head to herself.
The Cynfell Brothers Page 27
