by Holt, Cheryl
With Hedley, there were no surprises. John could guess his every move before Hedley knew, himself, what step he would take.
John felt as if he was trapped in an odd fable where the same things occurred over and over, where the characters were laboring under a wicked spell and couldn’t escape. How was he to break the enchantment and free himself?
“Let’s each draw one card,”Hedley said. “High card wins.”
“Wins what?”
“We’ll play for the whole estate! All I’ve bet in the past. All I’ve lost. You owe me that, Sinclair!”
The next card in the deck was a deuce, the one after that a king, so John was happy to agree. He tossed the top card to Hedley, the second one to himself.
Hedley stared and stared, then wailed, “This can’t be happening!”
“I’m declaring this to be over.”
“I want to roll dice. I’ll have better luck with dice.”
“No.”
“You have to let me!”
“No, I don’t.”
Hedley was growing surly and petulant, and Annalise understood her role. She rose from her chair and came over. She leaned across Hedley, blocking John from view, as she refilled Hedley’s glass.
“Calm yourself, Master Hedley,”she murmured as if she had his best interests at heart. “You’re so distraught.”
She was usually a fine distraction, but Hedley was working himself into a full-fledged tantrum, so her effectiveness had collapsed. She flashed John a look of resignation, then sidled back to her chair.
“I don’t know how you keep doing it.” Hedley leveled his glare at John.
“Doing what?”
“In all these months, I haven’t won a single hand.” He pounded his fist on the table. “Not a single one!”
“I’ve told you and told you, Hedley: You’re not much of a gambler.”
Hedley’s cheeks reddened, and he appeared very much like the spoiled, cosseted child he must have been when he was small. John could vividly picture him stamping his foot, demanding a candy from Mildred who would have rushed to the kitchen to find him the largest piece in the house.
For John, there had been no candy, no pleasant store of memories. His childhood was a depressing tale of poverty and tribulation and barely getting by. Envy and malice flared—over the easy life Hedley had had, at how he’d wasted it—but John swiftly tamped down the strident sentiments.
There was no reason to hate Hedley. He was just the vessel to make Mildred sorry, to teach her what it was like to be afraid and poor and alone.
“You have to be cheating,”Hedley blurted out.
Annalise gasped, John stiffened, and Raven stepped in. Hedley’s words were dangerous and deadly and could get him killed. A man’s honor was all he had, and though John possessed little of it, he was very proud, very vain. He wouldn’t sit quietly and be insulted in the most hideous way possible.
Raven tried to smooth over the tense moment. “I’m sure we misheard, my friend.”
“Did I stutter?”Hedley snidely fumed. “Are you deaf? He cheats. It’s the only answer.”
Raven glowered at Hedley, his disdain clear. “I would urge caution, Mr. Teasdale. You’re upset, and it’s typical to blame—”
“I’m calling him a cheat! I’m saying it to his face.”
Hedley crossed his arms over his chest and stared at John, daring him to comment, daring him to react.
“You’re quick with your allegations,”Raven warned, “but we won’t listen to nonsense. Apologize, and we’ll forget your accusation.”
“I won’t.”
“I’ll ask one more time.”
Hedley was young and smug and ridiculous. “I’d rather be boiled in oil than apologize to him about anything.”
Raven peered over at John. “Shall I handle it for you?”
“No.”
“Handle what?”Hedley sneered at John. “I’m calling you a cheat. What will you do about it? Will you have your lackey scold me?”
John smiled malevolently. “I suppose we could try pistols at dawn.”
“Pistols!” Hedley snapped, the lethal prospect not having occurred to him.
“Yes, I’d be happy to shoot your worthless ass out in the woods.”
Raven leaned in and said, “Or I can carry you out there right now. I’ll slit your throat and bury you in a shallow grave. It will save John the trouble of loading his gun and having to get up early.”
Hedley blanched. “You’re threatening me!”
“I certainly am, you pathetic weasel.” Raven slapped a palm on the table. “Apologize to John—or you’re dead.”
“You can’t talk to me like that,”Hedley whined. “I’ll bring my mother in here. She’ll tell you.”
Raven rolled his eyes and bit down a guffaw. Annalise shook her head with disgust. John simply studied his cousin, but he was thinking about Sarah, how she’d bravely sought him out, how she’d begged so prettily on Hedley’s behalf.
Laws of inheritance were bizarrely concocted. Because John’s parents had never married, he’d been spurned and ignored and—to his shame—spat upon as a lad. His father, Charles Sinclair, hadn’t even wanted Florence to give John the Sinclair surname.
But she had anyway, after he’d left Paris and returned to England. They’d never seen Charles Sinclair again, and they’d received no support from him.
Charles had never sired any legitimate children with his aging, bitter British wife. He’d only produced bastards, and John was brilliant and tough and shrewd. He would have been an excellent heir to Charles’s wealth, an excellent custodian to protect and grow his estates. Yet he couldn’t—because of the law and its absurd pronouncements on who was legitimate and who wasn’t.
Sarah and Hedley had both been Bernard’s children, but because Hedley was male, he’d inherited everything. Hedley had heedlessly proceeded without the smallest worry as to how his actions would affect his sister. Sarah was at Hedley’s mercy, at Mildred’s mercy.
Where was the equity in that? How much better, how much fairer, the world would be if Bramble Bay had been bequeathed to Sarah. She would have guarded and cherished it.
John had told her that he was sorry, and he truly was. Sorry that she’d been caught in the mess. Sorry that Hedley was her brother. Sorry that she was in such jeopardy, but it didn’t change anything.
John wouldn’t back down or relent.
“Don’t drag your mother into it, Hedley,”John chided. “Be a man. Fight your own battles.”
“I can’t tell her I failed again!”
Hedley was so wretched that John could barely stand to stay in the room. “You should have thought of the consequences last winter before we started.”
“I can’t figure out how this happened.”
“You lose all the time, Hedley. We inquired in town. You’re the worst gambler in history.”
Hedley gaped at Annalise, at Raven, as if they might help him. When he looked at John again, he actually had tears in his eyes, and he swiped at them with his hand.
“What now?”he asked, his misery plain.
Raven answered for John. “Now, we toss all of you out on the road where you belong.”
“But we haven’t made any plans. We haven’t packed or notified the servants or…or…” His voice trailed off, the ramifications sinking in. “We’re not ready to go.”
John scoffed. “That’s hardly my problem. You’ve had an eternity to make arrangements.”
“Could we have another month?”
“I won’t have you loitering.”
“The servants and my sister and Caroline…” He swallowed down a sob. “And my mother! This is all my fault. She doesn’t deserve this ending.”
The moment was incredibly awkward. John felt as if he was kicking a puppy. He considered walking out, having Raven deal with the rest of it, when Hedley begged, “Let’s draw cards to see if you’ll let us stay. Just thirty days. How can it matter to you?”
“I ha
ve no desire to be gracious, and I only bet when my opponent has items of value to wager. I’ve said you can keep your clothes, so you don’t have anything else to stake.”
“I’ll…I’ll…” Hedley stopped, resembling a trapped fox who hears the dogs approaching. “I’ll give you my sister.”
“Give her how?”
“She’s pretty and chaste, and she’s never been married. You can have her—in exchange for the thirty days.”
John bristled with offense. “I can have her. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
Annalise shifted uneasily in her chair. Though she fought to hide it, she was a very jealous person, and she didn’t like the direction the conversation was traveling.
“Jean Pierre?”she murmured. “May I speak?”
He didn’t so much as glance at her. “Would you excuse us, Annalise?”
“But Jean Pierre!”
“Not now, Annalise,”he snapped.
Raven went over, took her arm, and escorted her out. There were two footmen in the corner, observing with wide-eyed fascination. John nodded to Raven, and he escorted them out, too.
When it was just the three of them, John gestured to Hedley.
“Continue.”
“My mother must have sufficient opportunity to pack and prepare.” More vehemently, he repeated, “She must!”
“So you’ve claimed.”
“You can entertain yourself with Sarah.”
“For how long?”
“For…as long as you wish. Until you grow weary of her.”
“She’s quite fetching. What if I never grow weary? What if I keep her forever? It hardly seems fair that you’re pleading for thirty days, while she could be bound for a lifetime.”
“You wouldn’t keep her that long,”Hedley scoffed. “You have sophisticated tastes. You’ll quickly tire of her, and she’ll move on.”
To where? John mused. Where—precisely—did Hedley imagine Sarah would go when John was finished with her? Obviously, Hedley didn’t care a whit about her, and John was so incensed that he wondered if he shouldn’t kill Hedley then and there.
He had a knife in his boot. He could reach for it and stab Hedley in the heart before the selfish oaf inhaled another breath. John would rid the world of his obnoxious, repulsive presence.
Why let him live? Then again, John liked Sarah very much, and he didn’t suppose she’d look too kindly on John slaying Hedley.
John drummed his fingers on the table.
The bet was common enough. Fathers and brothers often wagered their female family members when there was nothing left to barter. Unscrupulous roués constantly trolled for pretty girls, driving bets to absurd amounts that couldn’t be paid, then offering to settle for a sister or a daughter who’d caught their licentious eyes.
So Hedley’s conduct wasn’t unusual. It was shocking, though. And revolting.
How could John leave her at Hedley’s mercy? If John didn’t take her under his wing, what might happen to her? What other bets might Hedley end up making? What other low sorts of fellows might salivate over the chance to have her? What other disasters might her brother inflict?
John peeked up at Raven, and Raven shrugged, indicating that he had no opinion on what John should do.
“It’s a deal,”John finally said. “Miss Teasdale is mine, and you have your thirty days.”
Hedley was so relieved that he nearly slid to the floor in a heap. “Thank you! Thank you! My mother will be so grateful.”
“I’m sure she will be,”John seethed. What a despicable child his aunt had raised. What a menace. What an embarrassing lump of clay.
“You’re welcome to remain as our guests,”Hedley magnanimously stated, “unless you have somewhere else you need to be in the interim?”
Now that Hedley had won a reprieve, he was absurdly eager to push John and Raven out the door. Hedley probably assumed he could be shed of John, then come up with a rescue plan.
The boy was an idiot, and John couldn’t understand why he hadn’t committed murder when the prospect had first occurred to him.
“No, Hedley,”John countered. “Let me be blatantly clear. You and your mother may remain at Bramble Bay as my guests—for the next thirty days.”
“But…but…”
“Get it through your thick head. The house is mine. The estate is mine. You have a month to vacate. Mr. Hook will stay to guarantee you don’t steal the silverware when you go.”
Hedley’s face contorted in an unbecoming pout. “You’re being grossly unfair.”
“No, I’m being overly generous.” John stood, not able to bear his cousin’s company another second. “Will you tell Miss Teasdale or will I?”
For a fleeting moment, Hedley actually looked ashamed. “I’ll tell her.”
“Should you be the one? She won’t be too happy to hear this result from you.”
“She can be obstinate, so I’ll have to make her see reason.”
“You do that,”John fumed. “I won’t permit her to refuse, and if she tries, you and your mother will depart immediately.”
“I can’t be responsible for Sarah’s behavior!”
“Can’t you?”
“No. She’s very stubborn.”
“She has tonight to come to grips with what you’ve done.”
“I’ll need more time with her!”
“You can’t have it.” John appeared thunderous, like the Angel of Death. “I’ll claim her as my prize tomorrow. Be sure she knows. And a bit of advice, Hedley?”
“What?”Hedley sullenly said.
“You never apologized to me for your insult to my honor, and no one gets away with that kind of slight. You should meticulously avoid me, for if I have the misfortune to bump into you when I’m in a bad mood, I’ll kill you, and I’ll smile while it’s happening.”
John stormed out, and as he left, Raven muttered, “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”
CHAPTER SIX
“Will you have a brandy?”
“No.”
“How about a late supper? I could have the cook awakened to prepare something for you.”
“No.”
Annalise glanced at the clock on the mantle. It was just past eleven.
If Hedley had been any kind of gambler, the game might have lasted until dawn or longer. Matters had proceeded so quickly that she and Jean Pierre were already back in their suite. The whole night stretched ahead of them.
She was in the dressing room, brushing her hair, and he was in her bedchamber, stretched out on her bed. He was in an odd mood, and she wasn’t sure what had happened with Hedley once he’d had Raven escort her out.
He’d never been an avid talker, and from the beginning of their relationship, he’d instructed her that she shouldn’t question him on any topic. If he wanted her to possess certain information, he would tell her. Otherwise, she was kept in the dark.
On the one hand, she was relieved that he hid details from her. If he was ever arrested, there would be very little she could confess about him. On the other hand, she’d been with him for two years.
In nearly every way, she could be considered his wife. She lived with him in his castle in France, and when he was away from home, she managed the residence so he would receive a warm welcome when he dropped anchor in his small harbor. She shared his bed and helped him with some of his schemes and swindles.
She’d grown up in Paris, on the fringe of the royal court where her mother had been a courtesan and had schooled Annalise in deception and plotting. When Annalise had met Jean Pierre, she’d been working at a very private, very expensive brothel.
He’d been instantly smitten and had offered to buy out her contract from the owner. Annalise hadn’t hesitated to consent.
She’d abandoned her life in Paris for him, had abandoned her friends and her regular clients. She’d moved to the coast specifically to please him, to make him happy.
Didn’t she deserve to know his business?
He
dley had dangled his pretty sister in front of Jean Pierre, and Jean Pierre would gladly take her from Hedley. Annalise had observed Jean Pierre earlier in the evening when Mademoiselle Teasdale had begged him to halt the game.
There had been a chemistry between them that Annalise hadn’t liked. He was enthralled by Sarah Teasdale and had plainly been wondering if she could be seduced.
Had Hedley given her to Jean Pierre? Annalise was dying to find out and could barely keep from marching in and demanding answers he would never provide.
He had the morals of a stray dog and would lie down with any woman who tempted him. He didn’t believe in monogamy or fidelity, and he’d been clear from the start that he wouldn’t be faithful. She was not allowed to pester him about his flirtations, so she spent most of her time swallowing down her fury, but not letting him realize her upset.
Doxies constantly threw themselves at him, and Annalise had to chase them away. She’d wait until he deemed an affair to be ended, then she would threaten and bully his lovers to never return.
They could never bear to part with him, but they didn’t understand that he bonded with no female. His liaison with Annalise was as close as he would ever come to a connection, and she intended that their arrangement continue for as long as he was content with her, which—if she was lucky—would be forever.
She gazed into the mirror, frowning at a tiny line that had appeared on the side of her mouth. Quickly, she smoothed over it with a cosmetic. Jean Pierre assumed she was twenty-three, but in reality, she was his same age of thirty. She would never give him the slightest hint that she wasn’t as young as he presumed her to be.
She stepped out of her petticoat and drawers and slipped into a lace robe that left nothing to the imagination. Then she spun back and forth in front of the mirror, assessing her breasts, her profile.
“Magnifique!” she murmured to herself. She was stunning, like no other woman who’d ever crossed his path.
He’d never been able to resist her—not from the very first—and she was eager to remind him of why he’d bought her, why he kept her. By dawn, Mademoiselle Teasdale would be but a distant memory.
