by Diana Quincy
“I want to open more coffee houses for women and street children. We could open one in Bath.”
“With your special teas?”
The idea of having a worthy project of her own—one that could keep more women and children off the streets—left her giddy with excitement. “Of course. What do you think?”
His large, warm hands rubbed her bare shoulders. “I think it’s an excellent idea.”
“Truly?”
He kissed her hard. “Truly.”
“And I shall expect a very good price for the sugar you supply to the coffee houses.”
“I am to be your new supplier as well?” He lifted a dark brow. “I expect to be properly compensated.”
She returned his demanding kiss. “I begin to comprehend what sort of payment you have in mind.”
“What about Gus?”
She yawned and stretched over him. “I could care less what happens to Augustus. I want him out of my life and my thoughts. Revenge takes energy and I don’t want to expend anything on him.”
Hart’s hands slipped off her shoulders and under the counterpane, kneading her upper back as she lay atop him, stomach to stomach, chest to chest. “Then leave it all to me.”
“Mmmm, that’s nice.” Willa closed her eyes, enjoying his touch. “He’s already all but ruined himself, you know.”
His hands stilled. “Gus?”
She wriggled her shoulders under his motionless hands. “Don’t stop.” When he picked back up again, she continued with a satisfied sigh. “Do you know the Bellingham country seat is no longer entailed? The earl allowed the tail to lapse. Possibly to give himself the flexibility to sell off parts of the estate. That would leave Race and Addie without a home.”
“But surely her dowry is as generous as yours.” Hart’s hands worked their way lower, to the curve of her lower back. “They could still live quite comfortably.”
“Yes, but Race refuses to make use of it.”
“How honorable.” His long, warm fingers slid over the curves of her bottom, cupping and squeezing. “Quite a different sort than his brother.”
Desire tugged deep in her belly. “The two are unalike in every way. Race is decent to the core. He has a true connection to the land. Addie fears Race will be crushed if Bellingham Park and the surrounding estate pass out of the family.”
She reached up to kiss his lips. It was sweet, soft, and fleeting. After an exhausting afternoon of lovemaking, it surprised her to feel Hart thickening again against her thigh.
“Well, I have not lost my taste for revenge.” His fingers kneaded her bottom with a more insistent touch. “What would you say if I told you I have a plan to deal with Gus which would also protect your sister?”
She gave him a hot, lingering kiss. “I should be most appreciative.”
He lifted Willa by the waist, bringing her down on his engorged flesh. She sat astride him, pushing down until he was fully sheathed. Cupping her breasts in his large hands, Hart began to move indolently beneath her.
“Come now, darling, show me just how grateful you would be.”
…
Augustus Manning was in a hurry. He barely gave his coachman time to stop before alighting from the carriage and bounding into Green’s Hotel. He demanded to be directed to the suite, arriving at the appointed destination to find the door had been left ajar. Augustus’ arousal ached with anticipation. Willa awaited him in this suite. He shoved the door open only to find the opulent sitting room empty. He looked around with urgent desire, barely able to endure any longer. His sweeping gaze found the entrance to the bed chamber.
Perhaps she was already abed waiting for him. Willa’s note had asked Augustus to meet her here at this time. She had come to her senses, it seemed. He imagined her stripped of all her clothes, begging for forgiveness.
He ought not to forgive her for denying him the right of taking her maidenhead. Still, cuckolding Hartwell would be equally satisfying. Perhaps even more so. And he felt certain Willa was the woman who could bring out the man in him again. He had trouble staying hard with other women, unless the interaction involved a bit of rough play. But that was only because they were all whores. It would be different with Willa.
He thought of the things he would do to her. He would punish her and then he would take her. He would use every part of her over and over again until she begged for mercy. His arousal agitating him beyond measure, Augustus burst into the hotel bed chamber looking wildly around for Willa. The bed clothes had already been disturbed. But a quick look revealed Willa wasn’t among them.
His blood iced when he spotted the dark-clad figure in a comfortable chair by the bed. “Hartwell.”
“You were expecting someone else?” Clad in all black, the duke’s dark hair was tied back in that ridiculous queue he favored. It emphasized his harsh features, the strong nose and sharp cheekbones. Augustus suppressed a shiver. The man looked like the devil.
His stomach dropped. “What in bloody hell?”
Blue black eyes regarded him with cold clarity. “You were expecting my wife perhaps?” Hartwell lit a cheroot and exhaled, infusing the air with the smell of burning tobacco. “Are you here for an assignation?” Hartwell made a careless gesture toward the rumpled bed clothes. “As you can see, you are too late. My wife was just here. Unlike you, I don’t bring women to private chambers unless I am confident of the outcome. But to be honest, it was my wife who rented the room and lured me here. You can imagine my surprise…and delight.”
A shudder of disgust rippled through Augustus at the thought of the scoundrel’s hands on Willa. “Your wife invited me here. It seems you don’t have what it takes to satisfy her.”
Hartwell took a drag off his cheroot and watched as he exhaled small tight circles of pearly smoke. “Oh, believe me, satisfaction has never been a problem.”
Augustus’ insides curled with hatred. “I fondly recall another rented room much like this one some four years ago. I am very well aware of the pleasures she offers.”
“Spare me.” Swarthy skin stretched taut over the devil’s uncompromising features. “We both know you have no intimate knowledge of her pleasures. As her husband, I am in a unique position to know. However, I am not here to discuss my wife.”
“Why are we here?” Augustus suppressed the urge to spit on the demon’s polished boots. “Do get on with it. I haven’t got all day.”
An icy smile. “Off to place a bet somewhere?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
Another frosty turn of the devil’s mouth. “I’m delighted to inform you that it is indeed my concern. Do you know that there are enough vowels out there to ruin you?” Hartwell’s eyes were intent on his cheroot as he took another slow drawn-out drag. Followed by tightly controlled small white circles. The silence screamed in Augustus’ ears.
Hartwell crossed his legs, his gleaming black Hessians catching the light. “Owing little bits of coin to many different parties is manageable, provided you are adept at juggling.” Hartwell’s gaze reached Augustus’ eyes. “But can you imagine what could happen if all of those vowels were in the hands of one person?”
A wintry blast slammed through Augustus, depriving him of air. He sank down on the padded bench at the foot the bed, wondering for the first time just how much he really owed. He never bothered to pay attention. Surely it couldn’t be that bad.
“Unlike you, I mind the numbers,” said Hartwell. “I examine them in very close detail. Close enough to know you are ruined.”
“Like hell, you say.” Nausea swirled in Augustus’ gut. “I’ll sell Bellingham Park, the entire estate, to settle this debt. You don’t own me, Hartwell.”
“That might be an agreeable plan,” Hartwell said, his mouth curving upward into a chilling smile, “if you had not already bet away Bellingham Park.”
Augustus blanched. How could Hartwell already know about the note on Bellingham Park? That had happened at White’s just a few days ago. He intended to win the famil
y estate back right away.
“Yes, I hold the vowels on Bellingham Park,” Hartwell said, answering the unasked question. “And your London town house alone won’t settle your debts. I’ll have you in debtor’s prison within a fortnight. You will be completely ruined.”
Augustus’ legs quivered. He barked a harsh laugh, longing to slice that smug look off the demon’s face. “I will marry an heiress, a wealthy one. That will cover my debts.”
Hartwell raised a brow. “And will you tell her that you are unmanned? That you cannot sire children?”
Augustus’ chest felt as though an enormous stallion was bucking against it. He could barely take air into his desperate lungs. “What are you talking about?”
“Your mistresses are very accommodating, especially when coin is involved. Although some of them were willing to sell you out for a tumble. But we both know I am a very happily married man so that was of no interest.”
Augustus’ temper flared. “You, sir, are disgusting and unworthy of her—”
Hartwell continued as though Augustus had not spoken. “I was very interested to hear there are doubts about your virility among the lightskirts you associate with. So I had my man investigate further.” Hart paused, taking a luxurious pull of his cheroot. “It is interesting that you are unable to complete the act with a woman unless, not surprisingly, it involves violence or some sort of depravity. I understand your whores have to use their considerable skills to keep your rod at attention. The equipment seems to work all right until you actually try to bed a woman in the traditional way.”
Augustus emitted a laugh of genuine amusement. “You always were a fool who never understood the true power of the peerage. There will always be an heiress willing to wed an earl, no matter how low on funds or hapless he may be.”
“Perhaps. But an heiress with the amount of blunt you need can afford to be choosy. Why would she take a risk on someone such as yourself?”
He relaxed, feeling the power shift in the room. “I shall make some plain nobody a countess. Surely, even you are not so addle-brained that you can’t comprehend the power of that.”
“I will personally see to it that your malady is well known. Imagine the tales the ton will tell about the limp earl’s hapless attempts to catch an unsuspecting heiress.”
Augustus sat forward, his elbows resting on his thighs. “People like us are never held to account. You should know that better than anyone.” His eyes held Hart’s. “Just ask Erskine.”
“The man you raped.”
“It was all in good fun.” Augustus smiled at the memory, recalling the rush of excitement he’d felt during the incident. “He was lucky to be among his betters.”
“I doubt that was his thinking when you and your friends held him down and took turns violating him.”
“He fought like the devil, I can tell you that.” His blood heated at the memory of the vicar’s son struggling as they mounted him, one after the other. But the skinny bastard had refused to give them the satisfaction of hearing him scream. He hadn’t uttered a sound as each rowdy drunkard had extracted his pleasure from Erskine’s unwilling body. “But his sort never win, it is the way of the world.”
“You are no longer dealing with the son of a vicar.” Disgust twisted Hartwell’s features. “You cannot harm people without regard for the consequences. You will not escape so easily this time.”
“You are so wrong. I already have.” Augustus savored the cool satisfaction of victory that settled deep in his bones. “I’ve had both a duke and the daughter of a marquess attacked, all without consequence.”
The devil stiffened. “You are responsible for Willa’s attack at the coffee house?”
“I arranged much more than that. I made certain her tea delivery went missing to see if she would try to replace it. I wanted her good and frightened so she would give up such silliness.” To Augustus’ supreme satisfaction, Hartwell’s fingers whitened as they gripped the arms of his chair.
“How could you know she would be in the alley that afternoon?”
“She was riding in my carriage and, like a fool, alighted to continue the rest of the journey on foot. I sent my footman after her to impart a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget.” He smiled. “The scheme was brilliant until you stepped in and ruined my plans. Setting footpads upon you seemed the most expedient way to be rid of your tiresome presence.”
“You hired the footpads who attacked me outside of Brooks,” he said in an even voice. “What was their mission exactly?”
“To knife you in the gut and leave you for dead,” he snarled, allowing the full depth of his hatred to saturate his voice. “Clearly, they botched the mission.”
“Clearly.” Hartwell took a leisurely drag on his cheroot. “Why are you so certain I won’t have you hanged for what you’ve done?”
“Who will believe you? Everyone knows you’ve hated me since university.”
“I thrashed you after coming upon you leading the attack on Erskine.”
“But no one knows that.”
“I gave Erskine my word of honor that I would never breathe a word of it to anyone.”
Augustus smiled. “Interesting how that has worked to my advantage. They all think you harbor a deep-seated jealousy of me. If you bring these baseless claims before the lords, they shall laugh you out of the chamber.”
“Tell me, Gus” —cold dark eyes assessed him— “do you ever wonder what became of Erskine?”
“Never. Why would I?”
“Because he rose to become a magistrate here in London.”
Augustus brows lifted. “I suppose that is as high as a vicar’s son can expect to reach. I fail to see what interest that would be to me.”
A voice came from the doorway. “It is of interest because I have just heard your confession.” Erskine stood on the threshold. No longer a thin, slight boy, this man carried himself with confident certainty. “You’ve just admitted to attempting to murder a duke and to attacking the daughter of a marquess.”
Augustus’ stomach heaved.
The devil smiled. “I see you begin to comprehend. Both a duke and a magistrate have heard your confession.”
The contents of Augustus’ stomach spiraled upward with stunning speed. Unable to stop the bile-fueled surge, he wretched, spewing vomit across the floor. Humiliation coursed through him at the sight of disgorged matter splattered on his boots.
Hartwell gave a small snort of disgust. “So here is what will happen. You will go abroad at once. I don’t care where to. You will never show your spineless face in England again.”
Erskine shot Augustus an expressionless glance before turning to go. “Your Grace, if that is all, I have matters to attend to. My men are outside if you have need of them.”
Hartwell nodded. “Thank you for coming.”
Perspiration clouded Augustus’ vision. He pushed to his feet, trying not to sway. Sidestepping the mess on the floor to move away from Hart, he uttered, “This is ludicrous.”
“Consider yourself fortunate. I spare you a trial by your peers so that my wife’s sister won’t be tainted by your disgrace.”
The walls closed in on him, the sound of his own breathing screamed in his ears. “You will not get away with this.”
“I already have. Pray control yourself, Gus. I’m in a hurry to go home to my duchess. Now listen and listen well. You will go abroad. I will retain the vowels. Your brother, Horace, and my lovely new sister, Adela, will run the earldom in your absence. I understand Horace is quite good with numbers.” Hartwell paused to brush lint off of his jacket. “The terms of my conditions are that you never marry, which alleviates the very slight risk that you might actually be capable of begetting a legitimate heir. Adela and Horace’s son will inherit. Until then, I shall be content to let Horace make reasonable payments from estate rents and profits. And who knows, perhaps my wife and I will forgive the remaining debt once our nephew inherits your title.”
Panic fogged Augustus’ mind. He co
uldn’t let this man ruin him. To go abroad, he would be reduced to nothing. The humiliation of it was too much to bear. His gut wrenched again but his stomach was already empty. “And if I refuse?”
Hart sauntered over to the dresser, crushing his cheroot down into a plate to extinguish it. “I will use all of my considerable power as the Duke of Hartwell to see you tried and hanged for attempting my murder. Our peers will not look kindly upon someone who tried to do away with one of their own.”
His stomach turned over again, making his mouth water with the sour taste of bile. “I’ll see you in Hades.”
“Just as long as I never see you in England again.” The demon’s dagger-like features sharpened. He approached and brought his mouth close to Augustus’ ear. “No estate. No fortune. No heir. Your unfortunate line ends here. I have all but obliterated you.”
Murderous hatred and despair raged through Augustus. He was helpless to control his destiny. His legs began to give way, so he sank down onto the bed.
“Interesting, isn’t it, that you plotted my wife’s demise in a chamber much like this one. But it is your ruin that has been orchestrated here today.” Hartwell strode from the room and paused in the doorway, his face dark with satisfaction.
“You are ruined. Utterly and completely.”
…
Willa sat at her dressing table regarding herself in the mirror. She was dressed for the ball her mother and Cam were throwing at Camryn House. She wore the silver and lace gown from her wedding and her hair was dressed in a similar fashion, with light touches of silver interwoven among her curls.
She was so focused on studying her reflection she didn’t notice Hart come in until he stood behind her. He, too, had already dressed for the ball in his usual stark black formal wear with a blinding white cravat, his hair pulled back.
“Admiring your beauty, I see.” He looked at her in the mirror. “Not that I blame you. I can barely take my eyes off of you myself.” He cupped her cheek tenderly with his hand.
Willa’s heart leapt as she looked at her husband. His confident bearing and sharp dark features never failed to light a little fire inside her. Willa’s eyes returned to her own reflection. “Am I really beautiful? Both Flor and Addie say it is so. Can you credit it?”
