“What do you want?” Dearing pierced the man with a glare meant to indicate his lack of patience.
“Now there’s an interesting question. Especially when I’ve several options.” Mallory appeared in no hurry to pursue a conversation.
“Accosting my secretary, riffling through my papers and absconding with the Middleton Railway certificate should be enough to keep you content.” Dearing’s voice lowered to a snarl, though he kept his gaze riveted on Charlotte as she twirled through the dance. “You’re as transparent as crystal.”
“You can’t prove any of it.”
“Half of society knows you’re shot through the pocket and the other half suspects it.” Dearing shook his head with frustration. “But I’ve no desire to seek the authorities and am willing to look the other way if possession of that certificate keeps you out of our lives. I’ll not have my wife upset or our relationship maligned.” He turned again to the dance floor, where Lindsey led Charlotte through a promenade. His gaze fell to where they’d clasped hands, their smiles rich with laughter, and his heart clenched. Damn the situation that would cause him to miss one moment of Charlotte’s pleasure. “Keep the damn stock. I never sought it in the first place.”
“It’s hardly worth anything alone.”
Mallory leaned to the left, as if to locate Charlotte as she danced, and Dearing forced his attention away.
“So you’ve made a fool’s wager to accompany your theft?”
“The betting book at White’s is open to the public. My wager is square, though a smart man arranges for insurance. I’ll have the stock and win the wager too.”
“You can’t possibly believe that will work in your favor.” Dearing suppressed the desire to laugh outright. “You’ve always proven dangerously careless, without a thought for anyone but yourself, as evidenced by the company you keep.”
“I’m willing to settle this in a manner that leaves all those involved as they should be. Meet me in Compton’s library in thirty minutes.” Mallory turned to step away. “Don’t be late.”
By the time Dearing glanced toward Charlotte and back again, Mallory had melted into the crowd. The man had robbed the night of enjoyment and it would be hell trying to deceive Charlotte. Not only did his wife understand his body language, intuitive as she was to every emotion in his eyes, but she could tell by the tone of his voice or slant of his jaw whenever the slightest dispute held him ill at ease, and Mallory had his blood close to boiling.
As soon as the music ended, he claimed the next dance with hope that another spin around the ballroom would distract Charlotte’s perspicuity and borrow time until he made an excuse and found his way to Lord Compton’s library. Damn it all, he wouldn’t lie to Charlotte, no matter if he had to take her with him while confronting Mallory.
No.
Poor idea.
He’d rely on Lindsey. It was the only way to keep Charlotte’s reputation pristine in case Mallory planned something truly despicable.
Bankruptcy drove people to make rash decisions and enter into foolish ventures. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him, even though by salvaging Charlotte’s family and restoring their solvency, he’d won the most precious prize and now cherished the love they’d found together.
The same couldn’t be said for Mallory. Who knew what the man deemed necessary in his desperate attempts to pad his pockets? A sensible assumption indicated blackmail or another equally harmful ploy. Still, nothing about Mallory bespoke a sensible inclination.
“You seem preoccupied.” Charlotte’s slender brows furrowed. “Are you angry?”
He led her through another turn. How he wished they still danced in the foyer of Dearing House. “Yes. At myself. I regret not accepting your tempting offer to stay at home and warm the sheets in our bed.”
She answered with a knowing smile and blushed so prettily, his heart thudded in response. “Jeremy . . .”
Forced to change partners due to the arrangement of the dance, their conversation ended abruptly, though he found himself aside Lindsey with the next exchange, their positioning fortuitous.
“I’ll need you to keep Charlotte busy in fifteen minutes. I’m to meet Mallory in the library. Emboldened by his thievery and aimed for blackmail, he must believe my priorities are skewed. I assume he plans to inform me of his terms.”
“Alone, the certificate holds little value, and while Mallory is in dire need of money, he may have concluded you’ll do anything to see the share returned. But I suspect you aren’t of like mind.” Lindsey swept a glance toward Charlotte, at the end of the line. “In the meantime, I will gladly entertain your wife. A trip to the refreshment table and an inability to find you afterward should suffice to keep us occupied.”
The exchange advanced them to different ends of the floor, but not before Lindsey added a friendly word of caution.
Dearing nodded as he rejoined Charlotte. “There you are, my beautiful minx.” He grasped her hand and twirled her in a circle. “I missed you sorely.”
“As I missed you,” she replied, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “I can’t stop thinking about your suggestion.”
“My suggestion?”
She sent him a secretive grin. “Well, yes and no. It was mine, I suppose.”
The lines broke apart and they were forced to opposite sides of the floor, but this time their eyes never left each other. He was a lucky man. He’d not have Mallory or anyone else interfere with his happiness.
The music ended, and before Dearing could excuse himself, Lindsey appeared, looped arms with Charlotte and led her toward the refreshment table with an exaggerated desire to quench his thirst.
An unwelcome shadow of discontent ran through Dearing as he watched them depart, but then he turned on his heel and made for the door. The sooner he dealt with Mallory, the sooner he could have Charlotte in his arms again.
Careful to avoid guests who lingered in the halls or invite a situation that would stop his progress, Dearing moved through the dimly lit corridors and farther toward the back of the town house. He found the library at the end of a corridor and entered discreetly, shutting the double oak doors behind him. The room was also dim, only two sconces near the mantel beside the fire in the hearth. At first glance, he believed the room empty. He must have arrived before Mallory. But then, he noticed a person silhouetted near the far window, a tall, statuesque woman in a seductive gown, the plunging neckline and tight fit scandalous by its design.
“Pardon me.” Damn it to hell. Mallory should have chosen a better meeting place, the library most likely popular for illicit liaisons.
“I’ve been waiting all evening to see you,” the woman drawled as she moved forward, her face and voice vaguely familiar. She took a sip from a champagne glass, and with what could only be described as a seductive smile, pushed her hair over her shoulders to reveal even more skin. “Don’t leave when you’ve only just arrived.”
“I’m sorry, but I’d planned to meet someone here. A business associate,” he corrected, not willing to be the subject of speculation. “I must have been mistaken.” He stepped back, uncomfortable with the situation and anxious to leave. “Excuse me.”
“It’s been too many years, Jeremy, and our time together so short, but you’ve hardly changed at all.”
Her use of his Christian name gave him pause, though his mind worked swiftly. He should have known better than to presume Mallory wouldn’t sink to the lowest tactics. In another moment, recognition gripped him, and he ascertained the identity of the woman before him. Nora Woodson was the actress he’d known all those years ago at Eton, though she was hardly discriminating with her affection. Their days together had been brief and nothing more than a lad’s meaningless exploration of manhood. The likelihood of their paths ever crossing again was slim and, in a test of one of Faxman’s adages about time and wounds, Dearing realized he felt nothing except surprise at her presence.
He shook his head in disbelief at the length of Mallory’s efforts and the d
epth of his desperation. He’d enlisted the help of Adams, apparently. Such dedication to his task would be commendable if not employed totally in malice.
“Mallory must have promised you a handsome sum for this ridiculous charade. Although anything falls into practice for an actress’s skills, I suppose, no matter who is hurt as consequence.” Dearing pivoted and made for the door, despite hearing Nora’s slippers tap the floor in pursuit.
“Wait. I need to speak to you about exactly that.”
He slowed, unsure if she would share information useful in disentangling Mallory’s ploy. At her silence, he turned.
“Sit with me.” She settled on the damask sofa and patted the seat beside her.
“No.” Apparently, she believed him as gullible as herself. He shouldn’t have hoped for a better outcome. “I’m leaving.”
“Stop, Jeremy!”
Her voice raised with an insistent plea at the same moment the doors opened, and he paused in the act of turning. Behind him stood a woman from his past while before him, framed in the polished mahogany doorframe, was his future. Charlotte’s smile dropped away, a question in her eyes before they quickly filled with dismay. Mallory and several other onlookers crowded the entrance behind her. In less than a minute, a dozen or more guests had surged into the room, while Dearing stood motionless, ten paces from the door, the situation laughable in its context if not so easily misconstrued.
Until he glanced behind him.
Nora lie across the cushions, her bodice lowered to display the swells of her breasts as she shuddered within a distraught performance, tears on her cheeks and anguish in her eyes. A sob broke free as she continued her portrayal of scorned lover. “Why, Jeremy? Why now? You’d discard me after I’ve allowed you—” Her sobs prevented an end to the sentence, though none was necessary. Each word uttered painted him in a scandalous light.
A collective gasp chased by fervent murmurs moved about the room, inciting what was meant to be irrevocable damage.
Gossip.
A simple weapon, yet accurate and unerringly lethal in its effectiveness. The Ton thrived on every word and assumption. Within hours, the razor-sharp tongue wags would be revealing he was involved in a torrid affair and Charlotte would be humiliated, pitied, despite not a word of it was true. Mallory had machinated the scheme and it took little to plant the seed of mistruth, though Dearing hadn’t anticipated a scene of this magnitude.
In any event, he didn’t give a damn what society believed, except there was Charlotte’s reputation to uphold and, more importantly, his wife’s view of the outcome. He’d feared their love would never withstand the revelation of his past misdeeds, but now to have her question his sincerity by way of a ruse seemed ironic and unjust.
“Charlotte.” Dearing reached out his hand as if to touch her would anchor her to his side and erase any ridiculous conclusions drawn in the room.
“Jeremy?” Her expression was more confusion than anything else. “What are you doing here? Do you know this woman?”
“I do. Although this scene has been carefully arranged to appear as something it isn’t.” He kept his voice calm, unwilling to upset Charlotte or allow Mallory the advantage.
Nora reassembled herself, remarkedly composed as she sauntered up to the gathering, her audience in place. “Never mind reputation now. Tell your wife about us and we’ll end your pretense of a marriage at last. It’s what you said you wanted not five minutes ago.”
“Caught with your mistress, Dearing?” Mallory’s question cut across the room.
“Mistress. Lover.” Nora’s low, earthy reply oozed sensuality. “Whatever he wants me to be.”
Dearing speared her with a glare before he returned his attention to Charlotte. “Know that none of this is true.”
“Pity; we all thought it was Lady Dearing who had stepped outside her vows. But the reverse is here before us, or mayhap neither lady nor lord is faithful to the other. Interesting, Dearing. Your mistress is disappointed. Your wife is ashamed.” Mallory continued, his voice louder as he turned toward Nora. “Are you all right? What exactly happened here?”
“Nothing happened,” Dearing snapped, his anger on a short leash. Mallory was too desperate, too obvious, to achieve his plan, but would that play in his favor? Society had a habit of only seeing what it wished to see. “Whatever you’ve concocted here to imply a scandal isn’t working. Cut your losses, Mallory. This pathetic attempt to interfere in my life won’t succeed.”
Undeterred, Nora came forward, her confidence unshaken. “I met you here as you asked me to, Jeremy. I’ve done everything you’ve asked.” She produced a tremulous pout. “Don’t pretend it isn’t what we’d planned. You promised we would finally be together.”
“He did no such thing.” Like a slap to the cheek, Charlotte’s voice rang out, and Dearing’s admiration for his wife’s bravery multiplied tenfold. A wave of commentary followed, all eyes trained on Charlotte as she stepped away from the onlookers and further into the conversation.
“So, you’re the docile wife. No wonder he prefers my bed.” Nora notched her chin, a grin twitching at the corners of her mouth.
Silence fell. The very air in the room stilled, so much so, Dearing could hear his own breathing, the thunderous beat of his heart, impatient and at odds with the guests who watched, unwilling to miss a single word.
“Who do you think he ran to after your wedding? Where did you think he went for weeks and weeks on end? He came to me. He promised we would be together if I had patience, but I’m tired of waiting.” Nora set down her glass and advanced toward Charlotte.
Dearing watched his wife’s face pale. He felt her tremble, though he still stood several paces away. “Don’t believe a word of it, Charlotte. Mallory concocted this entire scheme in order to win some wager.”
“Wait!” Lindsey appeared at the door. He pushed through the men who blocked the frame and passed over the threshold. “You can’t stoop to cheating, Mallory. What exactly are you about?”
“There were no conditions. All’s fair play,” Mallory shot back, though his eyes never left Dearing. “And it hasn’t reached midnight. Our bet remains valid. A bet I’m about to win.” He nodded with misplaced confidence. “By the lady’s admission, you keep her as your mistress. Caught in your despicable affair, any denial made is to save face, nothing more, Dearing. In a war of words, one must always defer to the lady in question. And too, you were caught here, in a dim room, with the lady’s clothing in disarray. No one believes your cry of innocence.”
A hushed flow of conversation began as the onlookers gathered more information. Jeremy watched Charlotte as she surveyed the crowd, until at last her attention came to rest in his direction. Did she believe this tripe?
“What wager?” Charlotte’s question brought everything in focus again.
“A bet made against the success of your marriage.” Lindsey cleared his throat, seemingly uncomfortable with his role. “Mallory placed a wager Dearing would never make you happy, Charlotte. And that your marriage was destined to fail because he could only have an ulterior motive for his unexpected proposal. All this to the tune of ten thousand pounds.”
Charlotte gasped, her expression a mixture of sadness and outrage, yet she pressed for more details. “Go on.”
“The whispers are true. Mallory hasn’t a penny to spare. He’s squandered all his money and opportunity and saw your recent nuptials as a chance to recoup his losses. I accepted his wager knowing once he lost he would be ruined, and perhaps humiliated enough to flee London. I’ve known Dearing a long time and never believed Mallory could win. Not even when things didn’t proceed smoothly. While society chose to draw its own conclusions from your unexpected wedding, I knew Dearing as a man of integrity who would never stoop to manipulative malice.” Lindsey shifted his attention to Dearing. “As a friend, I attempted to influence you, but eventually, you proved you never needed my help in any way, other than for me to insist you get on with it. Your feelings were always indispu
table in regard to your lovely wife, and they still are.”
A long quiet moment passed as Dearing eyed the crowd. His gaze came to rest on Mallory, who still remained with his back to the French doors. Did he think to make a hasty escape?
“If you’re trying to provoke me or prove me unhappy in my marriage, you’ve wasted your time. It’s as Lindsey states. My marriage to Lady Charlotte is based on affection and esteem.” Dearing aimed his words at Mallory, though now he’d shifted his attention to Charlotte. “Genuine adoration and commitment.”
Charlotte answered, as if no one stood in the room other than the two of them. “I don’t understand what’s happening or why you’ve come to this room, Jeremy, but I know you would never intentionally hurt me.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“Lord, this is all so touching.” Nora sauntered across the room, to the delight of the gawking males who watched her every step. “When only a few minutes ago we were on the sofa and you were showing me your esteem. Why don’t you tell your wife about our private arrangement? Or does keeping it secret add to the allure?”
Dearing couldn’t believe the extent of Nora’s acting or how far Mallory would go to achieve his goal. “Don’t believe a word, Charlotte. There are no secrets here. Only lies.”
“That’s what you’d like her to believe, isn’t it?” Mallory quickly replied. “When it’s obvious you met Nora here clandestinely and now, having been discovered, hope to salvage your marriage and reputation. Lady Dearing isn’t so easily fooled, nor is anyone else.”
“Jeremy, I—”
“And why wouldn’t she believe it?” Mallory sneered, fast to interrupt Charlotte. “Your marriage has been the gossip of the Ton for months. The chances of its success have raised the odds in White’s books to incredible stakes. Anyone here can see you’ve an impatient mistress and an unhappy wife.” He jerked his head toward Lindsey. “That settles it. I’ve won.”
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