Viscount’s Wager

by Ava March

  The edges of Anthony’s mouth quirked. “Especially at night.”

  “Especially with you.” He would never be able to walk into Hyde Park without thinking of his evening with Anthony. “Once I’ve settled matters with Carter, I’ll ask Sarah if she’d mind having a houseguest again while I look for a position. Maybe I can find work as a clerk. I know how to keep accounts, balance ledgers.” It wouldn’t be very interesting work, but he would earn a wage, at least enough to provide for himself and to rent rooms of his own.

  “You needn’t stay with Sarah. You’re welcome to stay at my apartments. I can put it about that I’ve lent them to you, and I can be your very frequent visitor.”

  Gabriel chuckled. “You’d be a visitor at your own home?”

  “I have the town house, as well. Though it’s more my mother’s domain than my own, I occasionally spend nights there. And all my invitations come to the town house. Society certainly believes it’s my primary residence. No one would think anything of it if I lent you the use of the bachelor apartments.” Giving Gabriel’s hand a squeeze, Anthony turned to face him. “Say yes, Gabriel. I very much want you to stay with me longer than a night. In fact, I want you to live with me.”

  To wake up every morning with Anthony in his arms? To build a life with Anthony, with them together. How he wanted that above all else. Yet... “I can’t live with you indefinitely. It’s not done. Can’t be done. Eventually someone will ask questions or cast suspicion upon us, and you have your family to think about and Simon’s future prospects and Penelope’s on the marriage mart. You don’t want any gossip surrounding us to affect her.”

  Brows lowered, Anthony looked over Gabriel’s shoulder, off into the distance. He looked so forlorn, so absolutely crushed. As if Gabriel had snatched his fondest wish from him. And Gabriel had done exactly that.

  “I know,” Anthony said, so defeated. “I do know, it’s just...” He lifted one shoulder, gave a shake of his head. “I want to be with you. Really be with you. To have the sort of life my parents had. They got to share everything together.” He caught Gabriel’s gaze again, those beautiful gray eyes weighted down with what he could not have. “It’s not fair.”

  Gabriel wrapped his arms around Anthony and held him close. “No, it’s not fair,” he whispered fiercely. And it wasn’t fair. Not at all. He’d been married seven years to a woman he hadn’t loved. Had that union blessed by the church, the law and Society. Yet he couldn’t have that blessing with the man he loved. “But we will make the most of what we can have. I promise you that, Anthony. I’ll live in London, stay at your apartments for as long as practical, and when I need to find rooms of my own, I’ll find something close to you. We can spend most evenings together, most suppers.” He brushed his lips across Anthony’s. “I’ll be with you so often you’ll likely grow tired of me.”

  “I’ll never grow tired of you,” Anthony vowed, his eyes beginning to fill with tears. “Never.”

  Gabriel cupped Anthony’s jaw, the skin still smooth from his morning shave. A shave Gabriel had witnessed. Had been there for. Such an inconsequential moment, yet those were the sort of moments that were to be denied them in the future. “Don’t,” Gabriel begged. “Please, don’t.” Don’t cry. Don’t shed a tear. He couldn’t bear to see Anthony in that much pain. “I will give you everything I can. Everything I am.” Which wasn’t much. Come a few days from now, he’d barely have a few shillings to rub together. “I’m yours, Anthony. And we will make it work between us. We will be happy. I’ll do anything to make you happy. I love you.”

  Anthony’s short sharp gasp cut through the air between them. Gaze locked with Gabriel’s, he went very still.

  A gust of wind curled around Gabriel’s legs, set the hem of his greatcoat flapping against his booted calves.

  The edges of Anthony’s lips curved up. A spark lit the depths of his eyes, the sadness vanishing. “I love you too. And yes, goddamn it, we will be happy.” And then he crushed his mouth over Gabriel’s.

  The promise in Anthony’s kiss... It was the sweetest thing Gabriel had ever tasted, had ever beheld. He tugged Anthony closer, their bodies pressed together, and gave himself up to that kiss.

  The hell with the law and the church. Anthony was his, and they would be happy together. Forever.

  It took Gabriel a moment to realize raindrops were smacking against his head. With a nip to Anthony’s lower lip, he broke the kiss and glanced up. The heavens had indeed decided to open up on them. He swiped the rain out of his eyes, then stepping back, grabbed Anthony’s hand. “We should get back to the house.” So much for their excursion to the village, but he had cold meats and cheese in the larder. Enough for a decent supper.

  As they went back across the fields, the rain intensified. So much so, his cravat was a sodden mess clinging to his neck by the time they reached the barn. Anthony gave a shout down the aisle, alerting Morgan they had returned. Then Gabriel was tugging him toward the safety of the house, pulling Anthony into the kitchen and snapping the door shut behind them.

  “We should get out of these wet clothes before we make something for supper.”

  Anthony shoved Gabriel’s greatcoat from his shoulders. With a smirk that said supper was the last thing on his mind, he said, “I couldn’t agree more.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The weight of Anthony’s body left his. Chill air hit Gabriel’s skin, nudging Gabriel from a deep, climax-induced slumber.

  “What the bloody hell?” Anthony’s voice penetrated the fog of sleep clinging to Gabriel’s mind.

  “There’s two o’ them.” Rough, low, uncultured.

  That had not been Anthony’s voice.

  Panic seized Gabriel’s senses, bringing him immediately to full alertness. He blinked his eyes open to a darkened bedchamber.

  A hand grabbed Gabriel’s forearm and gave it a fierce tug, pulling him from the bed. He stumbled to his feet, stumbling into another body. A big one at that.

  No, no, no! Not now. Not tonight.

  The noises hit his ears all at one. The sounds of heavy footsteps in the room, the scrape of wooden legs against floorboards, the pound of rain against windows and of fists impacting with flesh.

  Anthony! Pulse slamming through his veins, Gabriel jerked his arm and tried to break free of the man who still had a hold on him. But it was to no avail. The man’s hand felt huge. Huge and strong. Fingers digging into his forearm. He jerked back again, putting his full weight into the movement.

  A candle flared to life, the light coming from behind him, near the hearth.

  Gabriel didn’t glance about the room. Didn’t size up the intruders. His gaze instantly landed on Anthony, bare as the day he was born, on the other side of the bed, fighting with a man who nearly rivaled Morgan in size. The man shoved Anthony up against a nearby wall and pinned him there with a hand around Anthony’s throat.

  “Let him go!” Gabriel demanded.

  “He will, once you’ve paid me.”

  Gabriel whipped his head around to find Carter standing near the hearth. Carter set the lit candlestick on the fireplace mantel and stepped forward, eyes hardened with more than a shade of annoyance. Splatters of fat raindrops darkened the shoulders of his coat and his hair appeared damp, though it wasn’t plastered to his forehead. He obviously hadn’t walked far in the rain, which had now turned into a storm, judging by the way the rain beat against the bedchamber windows.

  “Then your man can let him go this instant,” Gabriel said. “I have the deed to the property in the safe and will turn it over to you, if this one—” he gave another tug on his arm “—would let me go.”

  “The deed will not be enough, Mr. Tilden.”

  Gabriel was well aware of that unfortunate fact. “I have money, as well, in the safe. Almost three thousand pounds, along with jewelry.” He cut his gaze over to Ant
hony, who was still pinned against the wall, the bastard’s hand still around his throat. And Gabriel started talking faster. “I also have silver flatware, serving pieces and candlesticks, oil paintings, a couple of tapestries, porcelain figurines, vases. I was going to take them to London tomorrow, sell them to raise the remainder, then go directly to you to settle my debts. And would your man please get his hand off of his throat?”

  Carter’s lips thinned. Gabriel followed Carter’s gaze as he looked over to the thug who had his goddamned hand on Anthony. There were actually four thugs in the room—one on Anthony, one holding Gabriel and two others near the door. All giant beasts of men. Apparently Carter had decided since three had not done the trick the last time he’d sent men to get his money from Gabriel, that he needed to up both the number of men and their size.

  Why in God’s name had Gabriel ever taken out those loans? He shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn’t have taken out a single one. If Anthony was hurt because of him...

  His heart lodged in his throat as he waited to find out whether Carter would give the order for his man to release Anthony. This feeling of utter powerlessness...how he hated it. Hated being so at another’s mercy. Hated not knowing what Carter would do next. Hated knowing he himself was the reason Anthony was in this situation.

  Carter gave a crisp single nod.

  And that large hand finally let go of Anthony’s throat. Yet the bastard didn’t step away. He gave Anthony’s shoulders a hard shove, pushing Anthony harder against the wall.

  Anthony lashed out. Clenched fist connected with the bastard’s jaw in a neat uppercut, reminding Gabriel that Anthony spent some of his London hours at Gentleman Jackson’s.

  Letting out a low growl, the bastard slammed Anthony against the wall anew. Anthony drew back his arm again.

  “Don’t,” Gabriel said, staring hard at Anthony. Please don’t fight him. You won’t win. He’s too large.

  Though Anthony’s gaze was fixed on his opponent, he must have heard the desperate plea in Gabriel’s voice, for he dropped his arm to his side and bowed his head in submission, his bare chest heaving from his exertions.

  A tense moment passed. Anthony didn’t move a muscle.

  Apparently satisfied that issue was dealt with, Carter turned his attention back to Gabriel. “And you were going to go to London tomorrow to repay me? Interesting how often I hear lines like that at moments such as these.”

  “It is the truth. On my honor as a gentleman.”

  “He’s not lying,” Anthony said. “We were to depart at eight in the morning.”

  “The trunks are in the study, packed and waiting to be loaded onto the carriage,” Gabriel added.

  Turning, Carter grabbed the candlestick from the mantel. “Then let us proceed to the study.”

  Without pausing to allow Gabriel and Anthony to even pull on smallclothes, Carter and his thugs ushered them down to the study. Gabriel was summarily shoved into one of the armchairs. Anthony shot the second thug a nasty glare as the man pushed him into the one beside Gabriel before the dark hearth.

  Carter briefly paused to glance into the three trunks and at the paintings still propped against the couch. Then he rounded the desk and stopped before the steel door of the safe.

  “I have the key upstairs,” Gabriel said. “It’s in my trouser pocket.”

  “No need for a key.” Pulling three thin metal implements from his pocket, Carter set about picking the lock...which explained how he had gained entrance into the house. The locked doors clearly hadn’t been a deterrent.

  Gabriel turned his attention to Anthony, caught his eye. “I’m sorry,” he said, so softly it was barely a whisper.

  A hint of a reassuring smile touched the edges of Anthony’s mouth, the indignant mutiny briefly leaving his eyes. It’s not your fault, he mouthed.

  “Yes, it is,” Gabriel insisted, in the same low tone. If he wouldn’t have dallied, he could have completed all the tasks he’d set for himself and been back in London days ago. Could have avoided this entire situation. But if so, then he wouldn’t have been in Derbyshire when Anthony had knocked on his door. He would have missed Anthony. They wouldn’t have had yesterday together. They wouldn’t even be together now.

  There was a thump of an object on a wooden surface, pulling Gabriel’s attention from Anthony and to Carter, who had put the few boxes of jewelry on the desk. One by one, Carter flipped open the lids and inspected the contents.

  “Decent. Is this all you have?” Carter asked.

  “There’s money in the safe, as well.”

  Carter patted his bulging coat pocket. “I’ve got the money, and the deed. Don’t think I’d miss those.” Then his gaze turned cold. “But it’s not quite enough. You are short by two thousand pounds.”

  “No, I’m not.” Gabriel gestured to the trunks. “Those are full of the objects I spoke of earlier, and there are the few paintings by the couch. If you’d look inside the trunks, you would see they hold considerable value. I’ve got everything logged in the ledger in the desk drawer. With the trunks and the property and the house and the jewelry and the paintings and the money, I have 12,330 pounds. More than enough.”

  “I did look inside the trunks, Mr. Tilden.”

  “You glanced into them. There is no way you could have properly valued everything within them.”

  Carter crossed his arms over his chest, clearly displeased at Gabriel for doubting his abilities. “Those trunks and paintings and jewels could net 1,300 pounds.”

  “In London, at the proper shops, they’ll fetch at least 1,600 and likely more.” It didn’t escape his notice that Carter had got damned close to the estimate that had taken himself, and then with Anthony’s assistance, hours to arrive at.

  “Do you believe you are the first gentleman to attempt to pay me with his possessions? I have sold enough vases and silver and jewels to know what that lot is worth. Net of my troubles for selling them—1,300 pounds.”

  Net of Carter’s troubles? “You will charge me to sell them? I’ll do it myself and get more.”

  “The goods are here. You owe me money. Therefore, the goods are now mine and valued as I see fit. Which means you are still short.”

  “How am I short? Even reducing their value to 1,300 pounds, I still have 12,030. Enough to cover the loans and interest.”

  “The loans were due over five weeks ago. And those five weeks did not come to you without a cost. If you had paid on the date agreed, I would’ve had use of the funds to extend other loans. Therefore, you owe me the interest I was forced to forego. At my usual rate, that is two thousand pounds. The amount you are short. And I do believe I am being more than fair by only applying that rate to the principal, and not the full sum you owe to me.”

  Gabriel blinked in shock. He now owed Carter fourteen thousand pounds? “You never mentioned an additional sum if I was late making the payment.”

  “A bank charges a penalty if a loan is not paid on time. I am no different. You have also made me travel across England, which did not come without a cost to me. Add to that the state in which I found the two of you. If you wish me to hold my silence, then you will pay me. Now.”

  His stomach dropped like a lead weight as panic welled up within him. He had agreed to the loans without inquiring as to any additional terms or conditions, and Carter had indeed found him in bed with Anthony. Two facts Carter was taking full advantage of. This was what Gabriel got for dealing with an unscrupulous creditor. A situation entirely of his own making. And he and Anthony were stuck in this room. Completely at Carter’s mercy. The man could take everything Gabriel possessed, command his thugs to beat Gabriel and Anthony to a bloody pulp and then spread gossip about London that could see them thrown into Newgate. Or worse, hanged.

  Carter wouldn’t be able to point the finger at them directly—the man’s dealings weren’t e
xactly above the law. But Carter could certainly start a few rumors, and Society’s gossipmongers relished turning rumors into fact. The threat was definitely there.

  “My money, Mr. Tilden?”

  Gabriel’s heart slammed against his ribs. What the hell was he going to do? He didn’t have anything else to give to Carter.

  “I will pay you the two thousand pounds,” Anthony said.

  Gabriel’s head snapped around to Anthony in the chair beside him. “No! They are my loans. My responsibility. You do not need—”

  Before Gabriel could protest further, Anthony cut him off. “But I want to. In any case, do you have anything more you can give him?”

  He didn’t, and Anthony well knew it. Gabriel had told him as such just yesterday. “That matters not—”

  A thick, dense thud shook the walls, rattling the panes of glass in the windows.

  What the—?

  Gabriel looked behind him.

  Three massive men were locked in combat near the study door. The one with black hair threw another up against the wall. There was another thick, dense thud, glass rattling in the windows.

  Wait...three men? There had only been two by the door a moment earlier.

  Was that Morgan?

  Yes, it was. Where had he come from?

  The two thugs who had been keeping guard on Gabriel and Anthony launched forward. Before they even reached the other side of the room, Morgan had felled one of their fellows, the man sprawled on the floor. Morgan whipped around as the two thugs approached, his attention shifting off of the other remaining near the door. That man pulled back his fist, a nasty sneer of vengeance twisting his features. Gabriel opened his mouth to shout, to give Morgan a warning. And then Drake was behind that man, a wicked-looking knife poised at the man’s side.

  Oh God, no. Please no. Gabriel did not want any blood spilled. Regardless of whether or not that man was in Carter’s employ, the thug did not deserve to die tonight.

  Gabriel made to lurch up out of his chair, but a hand clamped down on his shoulder, holding him in place. Cold steel touched the side of his throat.