Playing the Rake's Game

by Bronwyn Scott

  His thoughts had come full circle. No matter how much he thought about it, they were still just two strangers in bed together and it was as much his fault as hers. Fortunately, Emma reached between his legs and stroked him into readiness, saving him from having to think too much with his brain. He was much preferring a different kind of logic at the moment.

  * * *

  Emma was almost giddy with excitement at the still. The prospect of starting up a new business was a heady one. She might have been entirely given to giddiness if she hadn’t sensed Ren’s distraction so strongly. He’d been distracted during lovemaking. She’d climaxed without him, their morning coupling lacking the intense connection that had marked their other joinings.

  He was distracted now, too, although he was making a valiant effort to hide it. They’d talked about rum on the ride out to the distillery. He told her the details about his meeting with the quartermaster, how he’d already placed an order with a cooper in town for the casks they’d need. But his mind was only partly on the conversation. She wondered what else he might have done or discovered in town to bring on such distraction or if the distraction stemmed from something internal, perhaps remnants of their quarrel. She wasn’t naive enough to think those more interpersonal issues had been fixed just because business had been resolved.

  ‘There won’t be an immediate profit, but you should see one by next year,’ Ren was saying as they stepped outside the distillery and into the sunlight.

  Ah, that was it. Emma halted, her heart sinking. She caught the discrepancy right away. ‘Don’t you mean “we”? We will see the profit?’

  ‘Of course, I meant “we.”’ Ren smiled and tried for some humour. ‘We’ll be bound together forever through this place. You’ll never really get rid of me.’

  She knew instantly where this was leading. The man who’d declared he was here to stay had decided he was leaving. Maybe he wasn’t leaving tomorrow or on the next packet, but he was moving in that direction. How much time did they have? Two months? Three? Everything had suddenly become short-term. ‘You’ve decided the Caribbean doesn’t agree with you,’ Emma said matter-of-factly. Maybe it was the Caribbean that didn’t agree or maybe it was her. Perhaps he’d decided they didn’t suit. ‘When did this happen?’

  They stopped under the shade of a tall palm. Ren took off his straw hat and ran a hand through his hair. ‘I didn’t say anything about leaving.’

  ‘Do not play semantic games with me,’ Emma cautioned sharply. ‘Something has happened. Is it Gridley again with his fallacious claims?’

  Ren put his hat back on and shook his head. ‘It’s personal and it’s more complicated than that. Emma, I can’t stay and continue to compromise you. Already Gridley is spreading talk. I don’t think I can just be your business partner. I can’t be here and simply stop the affair. I want you too badly. It would be torture to live under that roof, to see you, to work with you every day and not have you. The sacrifice wouldn’t be enough anyway. Even if I were to play the monk, no one would believe it.’

  Emma turned away from him, her emotions stirring to the surface. Part of her was flattered. No man had ever shown her such a fine consideration. Part of her knew it was too fine. ‘Your concern for my reputation is quite chivalrous, not that I have much of a reputation left to protect. But I’m not foolish enough to believe that is enough to send you back to England. There’s more.’

  She heard his hesitation in the silence that followed. ‘My sister is getting married. Kitt had a letter arrive with the news while I was in Bridgetown.’ He paused, perhaps realising as she did how incomplete that explanation was. People could travel. Weddings were not occasions that required him to stay in England permanently. A wedding did not explain his earlier chivalry. He started again slowly. ‘Did Cousin Merrimore tell you anything about me? About my family?’

  ‘No.’ What she did know about Merry’s family was very general. They were thousands of miles away and he had no immediate family. Knowing cousins and relatives Merry hardly knew himself hadn’t seemed a priority. They’d had each other and that had been family enough. Until now. ‘I think he said once that he was a relative of your mother.’

  ‘He was a cousin of my mother’s father,’ Ren supplied. ‘My mother’s family is landed gentry out of the south-east of England, Sussex area. They’re comfortable landowners with a nice income for their station. But my mother wasn’t satisfied with that lifestyle. She went to London for a Season and aimed a little higher. She came home betrothed to the heir to the Earl of Dartmoor, one of the finest catches of that Season.’

  Pieces slid together in a terrifying puzzle in her mind. Ren’s father was an earl. Emma recalled bits of other conversations. His father was deceased; Ren had told her as much that day on the beach. His brother, the one called Teddy, was younger than Ren. She felt the truth overwhelm her. She’d always known he was a gentleman, it had been there in his clothes, his bearing, his manners, the way he’d taken charge the day of the fire. That wasn’t surprising. She’d known Merry was from a comfortably situated family. It had stood to reason his distant cousin would share some of that comfortable life, but she’d not dreamed of the extent. Emma braced an arm against the palm-tree trunk, oblivious to the prickly bark cutting into her hand as she tried to take it all in. ‘You’re the earl!’

  She felt him move towards her. ‘I’m still Ren Dryden, I’m still just a man. This doesn’t change anything.’

  Emma whirled on him, not sure what emotion to feel first: anger, betrayal, hypocrisy. He’d been so worried about what she’d held back, so upset about the viper’s pit she’d led him into and the whole time he’d withheld the truth of himself. ‘Yes, it does. You’ve already admitted it. You wouldn’t be leaving otherwise. This changes everything.’

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘It doesn’t change the important things.’ Ren was trying to placate her with comforting reassurances. It was a sweet gesture, a protective gesture and she was absolutely not in the mood for either.

  ‘Stop right there. Do not give me platitudes about how it doesn’t change your feelings for me. You have no idea what those feelings are.’ Those feelings hardly mattered now. She should have refused the temptation of taking those feelings out and looking too closely at them before reality struck. Earls didn’t marry daughters of colonels. They didn’t marry women who hadn’t set foot inside English society since they were eight and earls certainly didn’t wed women who carried scandal for a calling card. If she showed up in England with Ren, there would be curiosity and curiosity would lead to enquiries. Eventually, her sordid past would come out. Earls needed pure innocent girls to be their countesses. Nothing could come of Ren’s feelings even if they ran deep. It was best if he realised that before he decided chivalry could take forms other than leaving. Who was she fooling? It would be best for her, too.

  ‘Perhaps we should talk about this back at the house,’ Ren suggested. ‘I’ve picked a poor place for this discussion.’

  ‘No, we’ll talk about it now.’ Emma drew a deep breath to steady her mind. ‘There’s too great of an opportunity for interruption. We’ll have privacy here.’ Her thoughts were starting to move past the initial shock. ‘What else don’t I know, Ren? What are you really doing here?’ Not for the first time, she wondered why he’d bothered to come at all, especially now when it was clear he had demanding responsibilities in England. Adventurers and businessmen could move around. But Ren was neither. Earls did not have the luxury of that freedom.

  By silent, mutual consent, they started to walk. Ren was reluctant to talk. His words came haltingly. ‘I’m here because the earldom is nearly broke and Cousin Merrimore’s inheritance looked like manna from heaven at the time, a chance to restore our fortunes. I had to come and see if that was true.’

  Guilt consumed her. She could have stopped that journey if she’d written, if she’d done more than wa
it around to see if he’d come or not. She could have written about the truth of that last payment to his account, that it reflected an illusion. She’d gone without her usual allowance to make that payment. He would have known from the start there was no real money. That would have changed everything.

  Perhaps not for the best for her at least. What if he’d sold his share? What if he hadn’t come? She would have had to face Gridley alone and possibly a second villain in the form of the new owner. She never would have stumbled on the rum contract. How long would she have lasted without Ren? She felt less guilty now, but a lot more selfish.

  ‘I could have managed the inheritance from England, but I wanted to come. I was selfish.’

  The words so closely mirrored her sentiments, Emma thought for a moment she’d spoken out loud. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I was selfish,’ Ren repeated. ‘This was an escape from an arranged but unwanted marriage.’

  There was another woman! Her head swam. She’d desperately wanted to believe Ren was different from the men she’d known. She’d been terribly wrong. Did all men have women stashed in every corner of their lives? This was shaping up to be a rather unpleasant morning all around. ‘How do you mean unwanted? Unwanted as in you didn’t want to go through with it, or unwanted as in you did go through with it under duress?’ She stopped walking and fixed him with a stare. ‘I will not be a party to adultery or bigamy or anything of the sort.’ The thought of encountering such circumstances a second time after Thompson Hunt made her stomach churn. She was supposed to have been smarter now.

  Ren shook his head. ‘I’m not married. I couldn’t go through with it. There was an heiress in York who was willing to trade her fortune for my title, but we did not suit.’

  Emma breathed easier. Not quite Thompson Hunt, then. She was still free to believe Ren was different; upstanding and noble. ‘It’s not selfish to avoid unhappiness.’ She knew a thing or two about that.

  Ren gave her a sharp look. ‘It is when your sister sacrifices herself on the matrimonial altar in your place.’

  ‘She married the York heiress?’ Emma wasn’t following the twist and turns of the story.

  ‘No, she’s marrying, or has already married, a man for his wealth in order to save the family from scandal. She did what I should have done.’

  His remorse was palpable and it moved her. Above all, Ren Dryden was a responsible man. If the weeks of knowing him had shown her anything of the man it was that. ‘Is the money that important?’ She felt impotent. She would give him the world if it was hers to offer. But she didn’t have the kind of money he was looking for. No wonder the ledgers had upset him. He’d come looking for the pot of gold.

  ‘The money is everything, or was.’ Ren paused. ‘I suppose everything has worked out for now.’

  But not the way he’d planned. Clearly, these new developments pained him. He’d been the one who had thought to provide for the family and given time, he would be, if he could just see that. Meanwhile, she hurt for him. When had she started to care so much about this man? It had been easier to fathom him when he was nothing more than an adventurer looking for fast money. She might be wary of such men, but at least she understood them. The islands were full of such men, every last one of them looking for an opportunity to make riches, men like Kitt Sherard. Ren Dryden was entirely out of her league. She didn’t know what to do with a man of principle. Her experience there was admittedly limited.

  ‘Is he a good man?’ Emma could think of nothing else to say that would assuage Ren’s guilt or feelings of failure.

  Ren nodded. ‘He’s a good friend of mine.’

  ‘Then he’s a good man. I can’t imagine you having bad friends.’

  ‘What about Kitt Sherard? We went to school together.’ Ren stopped himself from saying any more. Kitt had his secrets.

  ‘You’re trying to pick a fight now and we’re not discussing Kitt Sherard. We’re discussing you,’ she gently reminded him. If they wanted to quarrel there was plenty of more immediate material to fight over than Sherard. ‘Do you really see leaving as your only choice?’ She brought the focus of the conversation into sharp relief with her words.

  Ren faced her, his face serious, his eyes sombre. ‘If I stayed, we’d be talking about marriage. We cannot live under the same roof without its protection. I could not do that to you.’

  ‘That’s definitely not the most romantic of proposals.’ Duty and obligation were written all over his suggestion and not an ounce of feeling, or love. However, she’d reached for the fairy tale once before and found it to be just that. Fairy tales weren’t real. Neither were Prince Charmings. The fairy tale had been overrated. ‘It would be no different from what you left England to escape, a marriage of convenience,’ Emma posited.

  Ren shrugged. ‘Perhaps we can’t really run from our fates.’

  Emma shook her head and stepped away. If he touched her, she would lose control and she did not want to cry. It would be too easy to fall in love with him. She suspected she was already a good portion of the way there. To completely fall and to know he only saw her as an expeditious arrangement that suited him in bed and out would break what was left of her heart. ‘I’m sorry, Ren. I couldn’t do that to me. I am selfish, too. I need to be more than a man’s convenience. In truth, I couldn’t do it to you either.’

  ‘I haven’t even asked.’ Ren tried to smile, but she could see that her outright refusal had surprised him. She realised he’d already tried the idea on in his mind and found the offer probable. He thought he could be comfortable with it. She ought to be flattered. An earl didn’t come asking for her hand every day. But he was only asking because he didn’t know better.

  He studied her for a moment. ‘I understand your reticence. I can only tell you I don’t think it would be like that.’

  They started walking again as if they could put distance between themselves and the awkward subject if they moved the space that had witnessed it. ‘Have you ever thought Cousin Merrimore wanted us to marry?’ Ren said after a while. ‘Maybe that was why he divided the estate as he did?’

  ‘No. It’s a fairy tale of a thought, Ren, the perfect happy-ever-after is an impossibility under the best of circumstances. Merrimore knew better.’ She paused, holding on to the last of her damning secrets for a moment. ‘He watched my first marriage fall apart.’

  It was her turn to stun him and that did it. If anything could trump the disclosure that Sugarland’s majority shareholder was an earl in his other life, this was it. But all Ren said was, ‘Perhaps you should tell me about it.’

  She was glad they were walking. Talking was easier when the rest of her body had something to do. She didn’t have to look at Ren and watch his reaction to just how ruined she was. What had happened had happened almost nine years ago and she’d thought she’d put her past behind her. More importantly, she’d thought she’d come to terms with it. Ren’s arrival had shown her she had not. He tempted her to make the same mistakes again. More than that, he’d shown her what an imperfect shambles her life was without even meaning to do it. She was a treasure trove of scandal.

  ‘I married at eighteen, perhaps too young, although lots of girls marry before they’re twenty. I was dazzled by him and I rushed in. In retrospect, I think it was because I was lonely after my father’s death. I had no family, no sense of place, except for what Merry had given me. But I was acutely aware of how temporary that might be. I wanted something solid of my own. I wanted to build a family that was mine, something to replace all that I’d missed in my nomadic childhood.’

  The parallels to what was happening right now were overwhelming in their symmetry; the death of a close protector spurring her to subconsciously cast about for a replacement. Her father’s death had encouraged her towards an early marriage, and now Merry’s death was encouraging her towards Ren. She’d always thought of herself as strong an
d independent, but this pattern indicated otherwise.

  She slipped a sideways glance at Ren. He nodded, focused on the outer story itself. ‘You felt this man could give you those things?’ He was taking it all in with a great deal of calm, she thought. But he didn’t see the parallels yet. He didn’t understand this story was a form of rejection, full of reasons why she couldn’t marry him if for no other reason than to prove to herself she’d learned something from her past and would not repeat those errors.

  ‘All that and more,’ she admitted honestly. ‘He was comfortably situated. He was older, in his late thirties. He’d been married before. He seemed to know everything about the world. He could make me laugh, he showered me with little gifts. He always had a little treat in his pocket, a ribbon or a bonbon. I worshipped him. He was Prince Charming, so handsome and gallant. Merry encouraged me to wait, to give it more time, but I didn’t want to. I was afraid he’d leave and never come back. After two months of courtship, I married him. Merry gave us a lovely wedding in the gardens. Then it all fell apart.’

  Very slowly, to be sure. Her new husband had been too smart to show his hand right away. He’d helped Merry with the plantation, gradually usurping the role she’d held. He’d befriended Sir Arthur Gridley and the other planters in an attempt to be seen as the new face of Sugarland. After all, even nine years ago, Merry had been old. Then he’d tried to formalise that arrangement, pressuring her to get Merry to acknowledge him in the will.