A muscle leapt at the corner of his eye. “Whose records did you keep?” Those five words, coated in steel, turned her cold. How odd that of all the questions he might ask, he should unerringly settle for the most damning and correct one.
“They were . . . are . . . my family’s,” she evaded, a coward still. She spoke on a rush, needing the story told and all her lies laid out before him. “A number of years ago, my father fell ill. One of my brothers was gone. The other”—she hardened her mouth—“was uninterested in the family’s finances.” Or anything except his own pleasures. “I handled the record keeping. When my father died, I learned he settled a sum upon me. Funds that would be turned over to my husband—should I wed.”
Calum stilled, and then a dawning horror registered in his eyes.
“Settled funds upon you?” he seethed.
Unnerved by the volatile fury humming under the surface as he was transformed to the rightfully wary stranger who’d stormed these very rooms almost a fortnight ago, Eve backed slowly away, positioning the wide four-poster bed as additional space between them. “A dowry,” she confirmed.
Calum’s entire body jerked. “You are a lady . . . of the peerage.” His voice emerged hoarse with horror and desperation.
Eve might have laughed if the situation wasn’t so dire. For years, the only interest gentlemen extended her was due to her connection to a duke, and now that same connection was causing Calum to eye her as he might a poisonous spider. “Answer me,” he demanded, surging forward so the mattress remained the only physical barrier between them.
Eve gave a wobbly nod.
He scraped a gaze up and down her person. “Who are you?” he gritted out.
Folding her arms about her waist, she sucked in a steadying breath. “My name is Evelina Pruitt . . . and my brother is the Duke of Bedford.”
Chapter 17
For all the horrors he’d witnessed and taken part of in the streets of St. Giles and all the darkness he’d known, there had been but two moments in his life when Calum had been so wholly lost—at sea.
The first being when his parents had died and he’d found himself inside a cold, lonely foundling hospital. The other when he’d been carted off to Newgate and slated to die.
Calum stared emptily at the small woman across from him. The slightly crooked teeth worrying her lower lip. The dusting of freckles along the bridge of her nose.
“When I was a girl, my father would tell me of the great Greek stories contained in the night sky . . .”
The memories continued coming fast and furious, tumbling over one another, confusing his muddled mind.
“Nothing is more useful than silence . . .”
“That’s your favorite saying, Calum . . .”
“Tau.”
“It means immortal . . .”
No.
The air exploded between his tightly clenched teeth in a noisy hiss, and he stumbled back a step. His stomach lurched.
Evelina Pruitt.
Little Lena Duchess.
Christ in heaven.
An empty, mirthless laugh burst from his lips. All the signs had been there—right down to those damned glasses she’d arrived with and then conveniently never needed again—but he’d failed to see them. “Of course, I should have known you were a lady,” he railed into the silence. He began to pace at the side of her bed—his bed—dragging a hand through his hair. From the moment she’d set foot inside his office, every instinct had roared at him to turn her out. He’d failed to heed his intuition but one other time, and it had nearly cost him his life . . . yet he’d not properly learned. The fact that Evelina Pruitt stood before him now, just a mattress apart, was proof of that. “All the indications were there. Your cultured tones, your knowledge of Greek works,” he spat. Her damned regal bearing the queen couldn’t copy. But you didn’t want to see it because you were content believing the lie. Only she was not just a lady . . . He stopped abruptly, and horror brought his eyes closed. The Duke of Bedford’s sister.
“I should have told you,” she said, her voice broken and hurting. Should she be hurt and broken? She’d been the one to enter his club on a lie.
Killing all hint of softening, Calum forced himself to look at her.
“I had nowhere else to go,” she whispered, holding her palms up in supplication.
“Why are you in my stables . . . ?”
“I had nowhere else to go . . .”
Of all the damned admissions for her to make, she would echo that exchange when she’d first come upon him in her family’s mews. No fear had sent her running; instead, curiosity had pulled her closer. Mayhap it was her penchant for dissembling that made her use those words against him now. But goddamn it . . . for the fact she’d turned him over to Bedford and nearly sealed his fate, there had been a time she’d given him shelter and food. And on the streets a person paid his debts, and he at least owed Eve her piece. Then he could be rid of her. “Speak,” he seethed.
“When my father died, he—”
“Settled a dowry on you.”
“Yes.” She gave a frantic nod. “If . . . when I reached my majority and still remained unwed, those funds would come to me.”
“How much?”
“Twenty thousand pounds.”
It was a veritable fortune, and it was why Bedford had taken to hunting for her . . . And she is here, under my roof . . . He ran cold at the implications of that.
She spoke, bringing him back from the edge of horror. “My brother depleted our family’s fortune, emptying the coffers at . . .”
The gaming tables. Calum owned a sizable portion of the man’s monies and debt. Over the years, he’d reveled in the truth of what he’d effortlessly wrestled from the nobleman who’d nearly ended him. That had been the extent to which he’d thought of any of the Pruitts, instead content to keep the girl named Little Lena Duchess dead in his memories. “Go on,” he said coolly, free of guilt.
Eve cleared her throat, and he damned her remarkable composure when he was one utterance away from splintering. “Gerald is determined to acquire a portion of my dowry, and he . . .” Eve’s voice wavered, in her first falter.
He steeled himself. He’d not make any more mistakes where this lady was concerned. “I’m growing tired, my lady.”
“He schemed with another gentleman to . . .”
To? Calum quelled the question asking to be let out.
“To ruin me. One night my brother had been hosting one of his”—red blossomed on her cheeks, infusing the previously gray skin with color—“scandalous parties.”
With Eve under the same roof? He scoffed. Then, having catered to Bedford since the club’s inception, and witnessing the level of that lord’s depravity, was it a wonder?
“A gentleman entered my rooms.” She wet her lips and devoted her attention to the tips of her toes. “Gerald had struck an agreement with him.”
And through his fury and unease, a new sentiment was born. A pit settled in his belly. I don’t want her words to matter. But damn them for doing so, anyway. Calum remained silent, allowing her the time for her telling. Needing to hear the entire bloody story.
Eve’s rapid intakes of breath and her broken exhalations filled the quarters. Then, slowly, she lifted her head, meeting his gaze squarely. “He attempted to rape me.”
The air stuck in his chest as a red wave of rage seared through his veins.
Eve continued in barely discernible tones. “He . . .”
A growl worked its way up his throat.
She promptly flattened her lips into a hard line and shook her head as if she sought to erase those memories from her mind and her telling. “I clubbed him on the head.”
Pride at her resourcefulness, when any other lady would have faltered, filled him. Until she again spoke.
“And I knew I had to leave.”
“So you came here,” he said tiredly.
“So I came here,” she murmured in a soft echo.
And now she had to
leave. She never should have been here. The Missing Heiress all of London was speaking of and searching for was, in fact, residing in the Hell and Sin. Calum dragged both hands through his hair.
Christ. He didn’t want these imaginings of Eve alone and helpless with a reprobate attempting to rape her. He wanted his righteous fury and resentment for both her past betrayal and the one she’d committed against him now. “Who knows you’re here?” he asked the question that needed answering. For the other reality slid in. They now housed a duke’s sister in their private apartments. Not only housed her, but employed her, and Calum had made love to her.
“No one,” she said on a rush. “Nurse Mattison,” she amended.
He unleashed a string of curses.
She moved around the bed, and Calum held a hand out. Eve abruptly stopped. “She is loyal and devoted. She is the one who suggested I go into hiding here, knowing Gerald would never look for me here. She would not betray me.”
Did she believe that would bring him any reassurances? “You cannot stay here,” he said as much for his benefit as for her knowledge.
Eve gave another one of those unsteady nods. “Yes. Of course. I know.”
Damn you, Eve. She’d not even prove her selfishness and fight for the right to remain.
Turning on his heel, Calum stalked over to the door, then froze with his fingers on the handle. “Was any of it real?” he asked hoarsely, not looking back lest she see how she’d shattered him with her lies.
“All of it,” she whispered.
“Pfft.” He gave his head a disgusted shake. Against his every instinct that screamed to be wary from the start, he’d told himself to trust her. He’d taken her in his arms, in his bed . . . And I wanted more with her. His heart spasmed. “What a fool I’ve been,” he whispered to himself.
She moved in a loud rustle of skirts. “You were not a fool,” she entreated, touching his arm.
He flinched at that tender caress, and she let her arms fall loosely to her sides.
“I would have you know that everything has been real, and I’ve wanted to tell you.”
“Then why didn’t you?” he thundered, and she jumped.
“Because what difference would it have made?” Her lips turned up in a quavering smile. “The result was always to have been the same. For you would have never allowed the girl who betrayed you to remain.” That had only been the first crime against her. The other, however—her birthright—was just as damning. “That is what I told myself, anyway, Calum.” Tears filled her eyes, turning them into crystal pools of despair.
His throat worked. He’d always been useless with a person’s crying. The sight of Eve’s tears had always ravaged him, even back when he’d believed himself heartless.
“I entered your club believing nothing mattered more than my own survival.” She spoke a sentiment he knew too well. It was one that sprang from desperation and fear and enabled a person to abandon morals and right. She slid a cold palm into his and squeezed. “But then every day that I was here, with you, I didn’t think about simply surviving and my security. I thought of you. I—” Recoiling, Calum yanked his fingers free of her seducing touch.
“Enough,” he ordered in the same stern tones he used to quell fights on the floor. He’d not have her offer him belated words of affection. His mind shied away from what she’d been one syllable away from uttering.
“Don’t you see, I could have still continued the lie? I needn’t have mentioned my brother.”
He flinched at that additional reminder . . . You little guttersnipe. Think to steal from me . . . ?
“But I did because I wanted you to know all.”
Another harsh chuckle rumbled in his chest. “My, how very honorable of you.” She knew not what she’d done. Nay, worse, she’d not cared. By her own admission, she’d thought of nothing but her own well-being. “You have threatened everything I hold dear,” he said on a steely whisper. “My family. The men, women, and children dependent upon me and this club.” A lone tear trailed down her cheek, and he steeled himself against the sight of her misery.
Since his brother had wedded a duke’s daughter, the club had suffered irreparable harm. Eve’s being here now would sound the final death knell if her presence were discovered. And yet, given the evil I know her brother capable of and what she’ll certainly face upon her return, how can I send her away . . . Nausea roiled in his gut. I’m going to be ill . . .
“Calum . . .”
“Not another word, my lady.”
Hurt flashed in her eyes.
He gnashed his teeth. How dare she play the part of the wounded party? Casting another disgusted glance up and down over her, Calum stalked out of the room. Fury lent his steps a quick rhythm. He stopped at the end of the hall, where MacTavish stood on guard. “Watch Mrs. Swindell’s rooms,” he ordered tersely and marched off, calling out for Thomas as he marched belowstairs.
The burly guard came bolting over. “Mr. Dabney?”
“I want you stationed below Mrs. Swindell’s window.” He spoke in low tones for the other man’s ears.
Bowing, Thomas rushed off.
Calum resumed his path to the gaming hell floors. Whether or not Eve Swindell—nay, Eve Pruitt—left now shouldn’t matter. The best thing she could do was get herself gone and remove the threat she posed. Yet, he’d be a fool to not carefully watch the lady now. Just as he should have trusted his instincts nearly a fortnight ago when she’d sneaked off with his books and maneuvered rooms. He entered the hell, pausing to study the crowded floor. Where the thick plume of cheroot smoke and clink of coins striking tables always filled him with a calm, today only tumult raged. Busier than they’d been in the recent months, there were still empty places at those once full tables.
And how much emptier they’d be were the fancy lords and gents present to discover Eve’s presence here.
“By God, you look like one eager for a fight.”
He started as Adair took up a place at his shoulder.
His brother wryly grinned. “And you’ve taken to startling.” His smile withered. “What is it?”
Even as it made sense to tell his brother everything, something kept him from requesting a private meeting to discuss all that had unfolded with Eve. My God, she was Bedford’s sister. The girl who’d once been a friend to him, who’d brought him food, and who’d carelessly offered him up to the same brother who threatened her existence now.
“Mrs. Swindell?” Adair accurately surmised.
Yet, Calum had withheld enough. God, even the bloody name she’d assumed had been perfect for her. “She is not everything she seems.”
Adair coiled tight like a serpent poised to strike. A thunderous cheer went up, and Calum looked to Lord Cavendish celebrating a win at a hazard table. “You were not incorrect earlier,” he settled for. “She is in trouble,” he said out the corner of his mouth.
His brother’s hushed curse reached his ears. “What manner of trouble?”
He opened his mouth, but just then the burly guard stationed at the front admitted another patron. The Duke of Bedford entered, flanked by Lord Flynn and Lord Exeter. Their boisterous laughter and slurred calls as they made their way through the club hinted at trouble. Drunken lords were oftentimes more dangerous than the lowest baseborn brat.
Calum eyed that trio. Was the man who’d attempted to rape her, who’d put his hands upon her and sent her fleeing, here even now? Was it a man who drank Calum’s drinks or mayhap a patron he conversed with when he did his rounds of the club floors?
And for his earlier outrage at her treachery, able to think at last, Calum acknowledged the precarious state she’d found herself in that had led her to his club. She couldn’t remain, and he would still be wary until she was gone . . . but he understood her silence.
The Duke of Bedford grabbed a passing serving girl about the waist. Her silver tray tumbled to the floor. Cries and shouts went up from those patrons now wearing the contents of those wasted spirits.
“Bloody hell,” Adair muttered.
Bloody hell, indeed. “See to it,” he commanded, grateful for the diversion that had put an end to talks of Eve and her duplicity. Adair sprinted through the club, with lords cutting a wide swath for him. Barking out orders, Adair shot a hand up signaling for assistance from two of the guards stationed nearby the developing fray.
Calum lingered. He trusted his brother implicitly, but they’d all relied on one another enough over the years to never trust that help wasn’t required. Adair immediately calmed the drunken patrons, neatly separating the girl who’d previously been mauled by the duke. The two brothers’ eyes caught from across the hall.
“Fine,” Adair mouthed.
Fine. He clenched and unclenched his fists. How far from the truth that assurance, in fact, was.
Quitting his spot, Calum wound his way along the same path he’d traveled a short while ago. He took in the men dealing cards and the young women proffering drinks and the former soldiers and street toughs standing on guard. The blade of guilt twisted all the deeper.
These are the people Calum owed his allegiance to. Particularly, his family of five. A few unfavorable words about the Hell and Sin by some pompous lords had already knocked their club down from the zenith of greatness. A duke, even a wastrel and a drunkard like Bedford, could take them down once and for all, with nothing more than the whisper of an ill opinion.
When Calum revealed Eve’s identity and deception, his brother would rightfully want her thrown out on her arse. As he bypassed the fray his brother now stood in the midst of, his stare lingered on Eve’s brother and the gentlemen he kept company with.
On his best day in the universe as a fledgling merchant’s son, he had never belonged to Eve’s exalted ranks. And yet, how the universe must be reveling at the irony of their paths being thrown together yet again.
Reaching the back entrance of the club, Calum started past the two guards positioned there. What would have happened if all those years ago, he’d stumbled into some other fancy lord’s stables for shelter from the rain and there had never been a little girl he’d called friend. Little Lena Duchess, whom his own siblings had never known of. All they’d known were those nights he’d disappear and return with an armful of bread and provisions. They’d taken those luxuries as bounties he’d stolen from unsuspecting shop owners, and he’d been content to let them believe the lie. In St. Giles, one knew better than to trust a lord or lady. To revisit the same home week after week and meet alone with one of their pampered daughters was a crime far greater than any material theft. Guttersnipes did not mingle with virtuous ladies, and now Calum had gone and done something altogether more dangerous—he’d made love to one of them.
The Heiress's Deception (Sinful Brides Book 4) Page 22
