Damn Julia and her stipulations. To hell with his self-enforced celibacy.
He was a grown man with a man’s desires and needs and right now, he wanted Becca. Hungered for her quite desperately. Gathering her roughly to him, he claimed her the way he wanted, with passion, with lust. Oh yes, an enormous dose of lust. Another thought snuck in to his consciousness. This kiss felt different from previous ones. Deeper, more full of emotion. But there wasn’t time to dissect that idea when they’d only snatched minutes together in this secluded spot. Not one second could be wasted. There was only the here and now. A man, and his woman.
His next kiss was hard and fast, and then he settled into long and lingering caresses of her lips, her face, her neck. His hand crept towards her thrusting breast and her long moan came seconds before the interruption.
• • •
“Sherywn!” His name being called with such disdain impacted like a douse of icy cold water. “Cayle St. Martin.” Easing back from Becca, he reassured himself she was presentable before addressing the angry person standing three steps away. One of Michael’s favourite adages sprang into his mind. If looks could kill, he and Becca would be dead.
After adjusting the fall of his trousers over his painful groin, he half turned to face his stepmother. “Julia, what may I do for you?”
“Let go of that ridiculous chit.”
Fully turning to face his stepmother, Cayle tucked Becca behind him. “Take a care, Julia. To insult Lady Rebecca is to insult me.”
“That conniving creature doesn’t deserve to carry the title of lady anything. Her whole family is eccentric. Everyone knows that.”
From beside him he heard Becca gasp in outrage. Reaching down, he took her hand and rubbed his thumb in a soothing circle over her knuckles. Before she could speak, he raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “The Jamisons are more of a family to me than you’ve ever been, Julia, so I would thank you to remember your manners.”
Julia stepped towards Becca and swung her hand upwards. Cayle did an agile sidestep to plant himself in her path and blocked her access to Becca who, far from cowering behind him, pushed to get past. Courageous Becca wouldn’t back down from Julia despite his stepmother outweighing her in the bitchiness stakes by a hundred to one. Besides which he couldn’t allow a scene, not here. Not when his ultimate goal was so close to his grasp.
Julia, however, was hell bent on trouble. “Cayle, I insist you escort me inside. You are making a fool of yourself with her.”
With a malicious look, she confronted Becca. “Hide behind his back for now, but know this. I am the Duchess of Sherwyn. I will not allow you to make my name a laughing stock. It’s all your fault.”
With dangerous quiet, Cayle asked, “What’s her fault? Becca hasn’t harmed you in any way at all.”
“Until you began following her around, I held high hopes that our family would emerge even stronger than before. At last, our name was becoming known for more than rumour and innuendo.”
Cayle was disturbed by the high colour of Julia’s face and the feral gleam in her eyes. She looked uncivilised, unreachable, as she gesticulated in a manner she would normally consider uncouth.
“You threw off your wild ways. Visiting your clubs, discussing commerce with others of your ilk increased our standing. Then this … this child, this stupid chit with her airs and graces, thinking herself cleverer than us, came along, and once again, led you into escapades spoken about over breakfast tables.”
Julia barely took time to suck in a deep lungful of air before continuing her rant. Becca was looking ready to retaliate and Cayle was becoming more alarmed, worried that someone would wander onto the balcony and overhear.
“I told your father that the scandal you caused was unacceptable in our family four years ago and I will not tolerate it now.” Swinging her gaze to where Becca stood in rigid silence, she said, “I have too much to lose. Sherwyn cannot be involved with a bluestocking. You’re nobody. I’ll ensure you and your sisters are never accepted by the high flyers.”
Cayle shifted Julia away. “Madam, you’ve overstepped your bounds. You have a nasty habit of turning up at the wrong times. First in the Chesterton’s library four years ago, and now here. Why is that?”
Unable to believe Cayle wouldn’t bow to her commands, Julia turned her anger on Becca. “You’ll regret this. You imagine that if you act like a whore, share his bed, make him laugh, that he’ll forget his standards, forget he is Sherwyn.”
Looking stunned by the amount of venom Julia spewed her way, Becca’s knees sagged. Cayle anchored her to his side with a strong arm around her waist as he once again warned Julia. “Don’t say another word.” But Julia was too buoyed by her belief that Cayle would succumb to her wishes that she took no heed of the fury on his face.
“You gullible chit. He’s toying with you as he did four years ago.”
When Becca’s body shook beneath his arm, Cayle clenched his jaw and fought against the urge to deal Julia right here in front of the cream of society and damn the consequences.
“You think I didn’t know about your little trysts. I permitted it because I knew he’d tire of you, as he does with all women. Except me.”
Julia reached up to Cayle’s lapel and ran a gloved hand down the length of his coat, her fingers hovering above his waist. “I’m the only one who knows how to please him. He’ll come crawling back to me as his father used to do, as all men do.”
Becca’s eyes spun upwards to him, wide with shock. “Sweetheart, please,” he protested, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest.
“No. I’ve often been forced to remain silent and not defend myself against malicious talk in order to spare my family from ridicule. But your stepmother has no right to misalign you, or me.”
Facing Julia, she spoke strongly and convincingly. “I don’t believe any of that nonsense, Julia. And you should be ashamed of yourself for voicing such wicked lies about one of your own family. Say what you will of me, I’ve heard it all before. On the other hand, I’ll never allow you to speak ill of my family. Nor, of your stepson. He’s done everything in his power to appease you, and to comply with your preposterous demands.”
Dropping into a small curtsy, she added, “If you will excuse me, Duchess, I find the air out here to be putrid. I’ll rejoin my family and hope we never, ever, have occasion to meet again.”
With her head held high, Becca stalked back into the ballroom. Cayle felt an urge to applaud but first he needed to rid himself of a menace. He escorted Julia to the door and saw to her departure, so incensed he didn’t trust himself to speak except for a parting command. “Madam, you will attend me in the library at ten tomorrow morning.”
Heedless of her protests, he turned his back and hurried to the ballroom to search out Becca to try to make amends. Then, he had more investigating of his own to complete into Julia’s uncanny knack of turning up at inopportune times. He needed to know if it was coincidence that she’d arrived at Chesterton’s library just as Sybila had attacked him on the desk.
• • •
Cayle stood in an anteroom peering around the dance floor for a glimpse of Becca, when he felt a woman’s body press against his side. With a start, he recognised the lady leaning into him in such an ill-mannered fashion. He swallowed hard and acknowledged her with a nod, stepping away from her at the same time. “Lady Charmers.”
“Cayle, how delightful to see you again. It’s been too long.”
Having no polite reply to that observation, he remained silent. Undeterred, Sybila charged on as if they remained friends, as if there wasn’t so much water under the bridge between them.
“I’d enjoy it if you’d call upon me at my home.”
Bristling, Cayle struggled to maintain his calm before the woman who’d caused his exile to the continent for four years. She’d lied to everyone about their relationship and so caused an irreparable rift between he and Becca. He could barely be civil to her, let alone be friends again. Althou
gh, by the way she pressed against him he understood she offered more than friendship. The time for politeness had passed.
“We’ve nothing whatsoever to say to each other.”
Sybila looked taken aback and he realised that, like Julia, she was unused to rejection by a man. “And I’d be obliged if you’d refrain from coming near me ever again.” He strode away without another word. Locating Becca with her family was easy. Trying to extricate her so he could have a private word with her was difficult. As he waited with clenched jaw to gain her attention, Baron Mitchell and Viscount Melrose sidled up to him and pulled him aside.
With a conspiratorial whisper, Mitchell advised him, “Sherwyn, a word of advice from a few friends. While known to be an attractive wench, Lady Rebecca’s reputation is such that if you continue to be seen with her, your own will suffer.”
Viscount Melrose stood with his over starched necktie, nodding in agreement with everything the baron said. “We’re only telling you this for your own good, Sherwyn. The lady is sharp witted, although nothing to compare to her brother, of course.”
Trying to contain his annoyance and not create another scene, Cayle asked in an even tone, “Why of course?”
The viscount looked at him as if it were an obvious answer. “Well, well, because she’s a female.” He pronounced the last word with such disdain that Cayle had to fight the urge to laugh in his face. The viscount was regarded by all of society as deficient in logical thinking, yet he had the audacity to denigrate Becca’s intelligence because she was not born a man.
“Naturally,” the viscount added, “her intelligence can’t be as highly toned as her brother’s. He’ll one day be an earl.”
“Let me understand. Being male, and titled, allows you more capacity for rational thinking, is that it?”
“We knew you’d see reason.”
Fighting his first instinct to tell the two fools what he thought of their reasoning, he saw an opportunity to impel them into revealing names of their associates. “So, you think that dancing with an opinionated lady will do me permanent harm. Is that correct?”
“Exactly,” the viscount agreed. “And we all know you can’t allow any scandal to smear your name at the moment.”
With a cool smile, Cayle said, “I imagine you’re referring to my stepmother, the Duchess of Sherwyn.”
The baron’s smile was reminiscent of a serpent about to strike an unsuspecting prey. Cayle hadn’t been in London long enough for any rumours to start of how he’d spent his time when abroad and having been seen for months playing escort to Julia, the fools concluded he was an easy target. Someone who’d retreat with a stern warning on whom it was acceptable to be seen with. Or in Becca’s case, who to avoid.
The smarmy baron continued as if every word he uttered was absolute truth, “Come, come, Sherwyn. Your playing doormat to your dissolute stepmother is the talk of the clubs. She has you by the balls and she’ll not let go.” He smirked, relishing making Cayle squirm with his intimate knowledge of the situation. “Unless you keep your reputation as polished as a pair of new boots for the next two months, Julia will stay around to haunt you for the rest of your days.”
“And may I enquire what business it is of yours whom I keep company with, or whether or not my stepmother approves?”
“I make it my concern to know everything about people who may interrupt my financial dealings in any way.”
“And you think I’ll do that, interrupt them?”
The baron scoffed, “Of course not. Not you. If I was to be cruel, I’d point out that your reputation is for retreating, not fighting.”
Cayle schooled himself to show no emotion at the jibe. Better to be seen the fool and give the baron leeway to reveal information to help protect Becca. He laughed out loud.
“Yes, it was always rumoured that I was more of a lover than a fighter. I’m uncertain if that’s still what’s thought of me. I really don’t care what the general population thinks as long as my family and my friends understand my motives.”
He pretended to assess the baron, to weigh him up as a confidant. “Although a man has needs, if you take my meaning. Perhaps you can point me towards the best gaming, or other, establishments in town.”
Mitchell visibly relaxed as Cayle confirmed his misassumption. The baron and viscount spent several minutes pointing Cayle in the direction of the gambling establishments most well known for their underhand dealings. The two men must really assume he was an unseasoned boy. Cayle did nothing to disabuse them of their notions, as in their benevolent state they were more likely to reveal things.
He spent a little more time acting the fool but all he discovered was that the baron was full of his own self-importance and believed himself invincible. The viscount was an unwitting pawn in the game being played out. He believed himself a major investor in railways, yet Cayle was sure the baron only used him for his connections, and would discard him when he’d outlived his usefulness.
• • •
Excusing himself after noticing Becca’s glare arrowed at him, he moved to her side, placing her hand on his sleeve in a deliberate gesture of intimacy as he walked her to the door. It was a declaration that Becca was under his protection and in direct conflict with the act he’d performed minutes before for the baron. He’d didn’t know who’d be the most confused from all these games they were playing, them or him.
“What were you discussing with the baron?”
He chuckled. “And I missed your pleasant company too, my dear.”
Suitably chastened, Becca bowed her head. “I apologise,” she muttered. “When I saw you talking to them, I became worried.”
He smiled, perversely pleased that Becca’s thoughts and feelings were in as much turmoil as his.
“You were worried about me,” he teased. “I like that you care.”
“I didn’t say I cared — ”
“It sounded like it to me.”
“Oooh. You’re doing it again.” She stopped and pulled out of his grasp. “Deliberately being annoying just to avoid answering my questions.”
“I’ve had expert tutorage from you in doing that, minx.”
Even her stance was strong and confronting. He’d use that to his advantage; goad her into doing exactly what he desired. Right now, his greatest desire was to have her. All of her. Any way he could manage.
Over the years, he’d seen plenty of more beautiful women. Yet it was this bundle of energy, this aggravating woman who was immune to his commands and resistant to his entreaties, who tied him in knots. Becca was different to any simpering miss pushed at him during the endless round of boring parties. Though, the bad timing of his growing hunger for her made him want to yell out loud.
His late father had bequeathed Julia enough money to live in comfort yet greed pushed her to demand more, and more. Soon, he’d settle on her a considerable amount of money in order for her to withdraw to the continent or wherever she desired to travel with her latest lover. He really didn’t give a damn so long as he never set eyes on the cheating witch again.
“I did get one useful piece of information from the baron. The group uses several higher end gambling houses as a net to scoop up unsuspecting young men, ones still wet behind the ears. They coerce them into handing over their quarterly allowances in the hope of a rapid return.”
“They’re trying to raise capital. Major investors need to have the money ready to hand over to the government bank the moment the Exchange releases a new railway prospectus.”
“It’s a case of first in, first served?”
“Exactly,” she said, grabbing his hand in her excitement.
“So, that means we might find the consortium controller combing the gaming tables. Looking for new prospects.”
Becca’s face glowed with renewed hope and she looked more beautiful to him than any woman he’d ever seen, making it hard to concentrate.
“Depending on how desperate he is, yes. Melrose let slip that the entire group is very tight for
money. Mitchell stopped him saying more but he’d already disclosed they were held up waiting for their last venture to pay dividends.”
Becca’s brow creased as her active brain worked. “Which may not be for two or three months.” She tapped her forefinger on her bottom teeth as she thought and Cayle’s eyes followed every movement, wishing it were his finger being sucked between her moist lips. “Or, they may try to squeeze more money from their blackmail victims.”
He shrugged. “Desperate men, desperate times.”
“Cayle, this worries me. If the ringleader knows he’ll have a large shortfall of funds available at the start of the month when the new shares are released, he’ll push his underlings to more desperate measures.”
“Don’t fret. Their level of desperation will play out in our favour. They’ll make more mistakes.”
“But what if they decide not to give us any more time, like they did with Peggy? They’ll try to take the journals by force, without waiting for me — for us — to finish our calculations.”
“When they do, my friends and I will be ready for them.”
“We’re running out of time. Using me as a lure in the ballrooms didn’t work. He didn’t approach me. Didn’t talk to me. We need to do more to draw out the ringleader.”
He was so distracted by her slip of the tongue over who made the calculations that it took him a moment to register what she was suggesting.
“Becca, I won’t allow you to put yourself in any more dangerous situations. You were nearly killed at the theatre.”
“But any day now, if we haven’t handed over our lists, the baron or whoever’s giving the orders, will start hurting my family. I have to stop it. Anyway I can.”
“We know Mitchell and Melrose are syndicate contributors, even if only low level. If we stop them, it may frighten the others off.”
Suzi Love Page 22
