by Eva Devon
“Clearly,” Harley snarled. He curled his lip then stilled, his chest pumping up and down. “Do you love her?”
“Love her?” Rob echoed.
“Good God,” Harley roared. “I ought to pound you into the floor until you’re a wet pulp.”
“Please do,” Rob said, savoring the idea of punishment for being no better than his father or brother.
“No,” Harley said coldly. “I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of feeling as though you’ve paid for what you’ve done. You have to marry her, you know? Bloody hell, I think half the square saw her climb down from your coach looking as if she’d rolled through the hay.”
Rob winced. He hadn’t even thought of that. How could he have not thought of that? He was no innocent. He’d had more trysts than he could possibly count and, yet, he’d clearly not contemplated the ramifications of letting her leave his coach. She truly did steal his ability to reason.
Rob swallowed. “I’ll marry her, but. . . if there was a way I couldn’t. . .”
“Couldn’t? Couldn’t what?” Harley demanded as Royland and Raventon stood watching the interchange like theatergoers at the play house. “Is her portion not large enough for you, Rob? Are you that far gone?”
Rob blanched. “No. I fear I will not make her happy.”
“You should have thought about that before you let her in your coach.”
“Let and your sister are not compatible words,” Rob replied.
Harley sighed and plowed a hand through his hair. “You damned well better make her happy or I’m going to make your life hell.”
“It already is,” said Rob.
“Oh, old boy.” Harley leveled him with a ball-crushing stare. “If you think you’re in hell now, just wait.”
Royland held up his hand. “He’s going to do the right thing.”
“The right thing would have been pitching her out of the coach the moment she got in.” Harley’s eyes narrowed. “Or did you invite her?”
Rob shook his head wildly. “No. That I didn’t do. But she felt compelled to pursue me.”
“And why is that, exactly? What inducement did you give her?” Raventon suddenly asked, with a surprising dose of skepticism.
Rob looked from Raventon to Royland then back to Raventon. All his friends were furious with him, he knew, but Raventon and Royland were supposed to keep this at least within the bounds of mild bloodshed, not all out war.
He drew in a slow breath, searching for a lie. Any viable lie. “She discovered something about me and wished to confront me about it.”
“Oh?” Harley mocked. “So, she sought you out during the opera, followed you to your coach, climbed in and what?”
“It does sound rather hard to believe, old man,” Royland said, his tiger-colored eyes doubtful.
“Did you mean to seduce her?” Raventon asked carefully. “We’ve always been honest with each other. She’s a beautiful lady.”
“Don’t you start,” Harley snapped.
Rob couldn’t breathe. He knew what he had to do. But he’d never thought it would come to this. “She found out. . . she found out—”
“That he’s a highwayman,” Drake said from the doorway.
All three men whipped towards the towering, blond duke whose blue eyes cut like diamonds.
Royland threw back his head and laughed.
“Don’t be absurd.” Raventon snorted. “Rob? A highwayman? The man’s as straight and true as a rod.”
Drake leaned against the doorframe and said casually, “Shall you tell them, Rob, or should I?”
Rob’s shoulders sank. “It’s not absurd.”
“A highwayman?” Harley repeated, aghast.
“The Gentleman Highwayman,” Drake said, his eyes glowing with humor.
They stared at Rob then a chorus of stunned disbelief surrounded him.
“You?” Raventon demanded.
“Bloody hell, man,” Royland drawled.
“You. . . you saved my sister and mother the other night,” Harley said tightly.
Rob gave a nod of acknowledgement. “I told you they needed more able servants.”
“So you did,” Harley said, looking like he’d been run over by a coach and four. “So, to be clear, you might end up dancing the Tyburn Jig before you marry my sister?”
“Don’t get any ideas there, Harley,” Drake said. “You’re sister would still be ruined and by a highwayman, no less.”
Harley rolled his eyes. “How the hell has this happened? No wonder she followed you. She’s been following your exploits for the last six months. Christ, she has a box of gossips rags all featuring you.”
“She does?” Rob asked, stunned to find he both enjoyed the idea and was simultaneously horrified by it. Was Harry drawn to Rob? Or the idea of a romantic highwayman? The difference had never really occurred to him before.
“She does,” Harley repeated, sighing.
“But a highwayman?” Royland challenged. “They’re a dying breed what with Peel and Fielding.”
Rob nodded. “It was a precarious business, but no better for getting ahold of ready cash quickly.”
Harley gaped at him, his green eyes flashing. “It was that bad?”
Rob tensed, feeling like he’d just had to rip the bandage off a terrible wound. “Worse.”
Drake nodded. “Our friend found himself in a position with no credit, none, and more debt than Prinny and it seems he was reticent to take a bride to rectify his situation.”
“Truly?” Raventon asked, gaping.
Rob smiled without humor. “Let’s just say we have just enough furniture to trick guests into believing we are still solvent.”
“Good God,” Harley breathed. “And of course, my sister will solve all of that. Is that why—”
“No!” Rob protested quickly. “If anything, I tried to convince her I’m not what she thinks.”
“She thinks you’re a highwayman,” Harley said flatly.
“Yes.” Rob shook his head. “She also thinks I’m a good man.”
Royland sighed. “Women are most confusing.”
“Not really,” Raventon replied. “They are ever the optimists. Quite nice, really.”
“Not when it means they won’t give up,” Rob replied tightly.
Harley cocked his head to the side, a deadly look in his eyes. “Are you suggesting my sister seduced you?”
Rob held up his hands. “No.”
“Then what?” Harley demanded.
“If you must know, I think we seduced each other.” Good God, it all felt so confusing. For neither one of them had led that dance. Oh no, they’d led each other. “It wasn’t planned.”
“Clearly, you know little of planning,” Harley sneered, “given your current state of affairs.”
Rob’s heart sank. “I’ll grant you that.”
“Now what?” Royland asked, glancing from man to man.
“Pistols at dawn?” Drake asked gleefully. “I’m delighted to be anyone’s second.”
“After the wedding,” Harley growled. “I won’t have my sister’s life ruined entirely.”
But what if marrying me ruins it, Rob wanted to protest, but he knew better. At this moment, there was only one course of action. And that action was before a bishop. Tomorrow.
Harley strode forward. “You’re lucky I like your mother. You’re bloody lucky that the only way out of this is for you to try to make my sister happy.”
Rob nodded and he glanced at Drake who was eyeing him knowingly.
Because Rob didn’t feel lucky at all. He’d rather face Tyburn, frankly, than this marriage. But he wasn’t about to abandon Harry to total scandal. No, that would make him worse than his father and brother. But the very fact that he had to marry her at all meant one thing. He was just as bad. And so, he swore once again to himself, that his line of selfish, cursed men would end. . . with him.
Somehow, Harriet was going to just have to accept that fact. He hoped being a duchess would be enoug
h. Because that was all she was ever going to have from this marriage. And he bloody hated himself for taking so much from her.
Harley grabbed the brandy bottle then drank. He scowled at Rob, his fury still palpable, but then he passed the brandy. “To family, you complete arse.”
Rob took the bottle, unable to whisper the darkest secret of his heart; that family, in the end, was the reason he’d never make Harry happy. It was why Harley would never, ever forgive him. And Rob wouldn’t be able to blame him, because he was never going to forgive himself.
Chapter 19
“You did what?” Eglantine’s eyes fairly bulged. “With whom?”
Harry clasped the decanter of claret that she had snuck from her brother’s study and poured a second glass for her friend.
After Eglantine’s arrival, having received Harry’s passionate plea for a visit, they had dashed upstairs. Knowing they would have no privacy at all if they occupied one of the family rooms, Harry had shut the door behind them, and moved a chair in front of it.
Adore her sisters as she did, she had no wish to be disturbed just now.
So, she had brought the pilfered cut crystal decanter of wine and glasses and poured ample amounts of the ruby-colored beverage.
“Do I truly need to repeat myself?” she asked before taking a formidable drink of the stuff. The rich notes of plum and spice covered her tongue. The wine was rich, heady, and absolutely delicious. Her head was already spinning.
Eglantine cupped her own glass. “I never should have let you wander off at the opera.”
Harriet lifted her glass in salute. “You could not have stopped me.”
Her friend frowned, and propped one hand on the counterpane on the high, canopied bed. “I suppose not, but I should have argued with more force.”
“The truth is, I don’t regret it.” Harriet smiled, thinking of being in Rob’s arms. “Not truly.”
“But he doesn’t wish to marry you!” she hissed.
Harry’s smile vanished, replaced with a grimace. “Need you remind me?”
“It seems a high price to pay for a few moments of bliss,” Eglantine replied. “After all, you shall have to spend a lifetime with a man who does not wish to spend it with you.”
Harry refused to accept defeat. It simply wasn’t in her nature. “Well, who says I will not be able to change his mind.”
At last, Eglantine smiled, a proud, amazed smile. “If anyone can, it is you.”
“I will not announce defeat before the battle has even begun.” She mulled over the situation. “He thinks he doesn’t wish to marry me. He seems to think he can’t make me happy. But I’ve always liked Rob. So, why shouldn’t he be able to?”
“He doesn’t seem a fanciful person,” Eglantine observed. “He must have a reason.”
“Hmmm.” For one brief moment, she thought about sharing his declaration that he did not desire children. But she was not quite prepared to discuss such a thing, even with her dear friend.
“Did you enjoy it,” Eglantine asked abruptly, blushing.
“Pardon?”
Eglantine rolled her eyes. “Come now. You know of what I speak. Did you enjoy it?”
Much to her embarrassment Harry also blushed. “I must confess I did.”
“I can scarce believe you did such a thing,” Eglantine declared. “In a coach, no less!”
“I assure you, I am just as astonished.” Harry wasn’t entirely sure what she felt. It certainly wasn’t shame. “But it was. . . unlike anything I have ever known. And I cannot wait to do it again.”
Eglantine leaned forward and whispered, “Do you think he shall wish to?”
Harry paused. “I had not even considered it. Men are supposed to quite like making love.”
“Oooh.” Eglantine let out a delicious, envious sigh. “How marvelous. Making love. You shall have to tell me everything.”
“Well, firstly, I don’t really know why it’s called making love, for I know Rob doesn’t love me.” She grinned and waggled her brows. “But it was so incredibly passionate.”
“Passion making then?” Eglantine teased as she took another sip of wine.
Harry sat beside her friend on the bed, thinking of his hands holding her tight. “Oh yes. I think that suits. It did hurt, but it was so. . . well, really I can’t describe it. But it was better than cake, or wine, or riding horses. Or climbing to the top of the tallest tree.”
“High praise, indeed. And I shall have to loathe you for knowing before me.”
Harry laughed. “I’m sure you will experience it soon enough.”
Eglantine groaned. “Knowing my luck, I shall marry a man who is not adept at all at passion making.”
Harry gave her friend a sympathetic smile. “Well, hopefully, your marriage shall not be as strange as mine.”
“You’re truly going to do it?” Eglantine asked, more seriously.
“Oh, yes.” She traced the cut crystal. “I think my brother would suffer apoplexy if I did not.”
“You will be a duchess then.”
“So I will.”
“But he doesn’t love you?” Eglantine asked, her brow furrowing as she obviously tried to make sense of the abrupt turn of her friend’s life. “Truly? Not even a bit?”
Harry shook her head. She thought back to the coach ride and the way in which he had made it clear that he doubted their marriage would be a happy one.
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell her friend Rob’s secret, but even she could not do such a thing with Eglantine.
Rob’s neck was far too valuable to her to chance a stray word. Still, how she wished she could tell Eglantine that she was marrying the man they had swooned over for many months.
It was difficult to believe that the man of her dreams and the man she was marrying were truly one and the same. For Rob seemed weighed down by the hardships of this life. She wondered where the reckless rider was, the one who had ridden to her rescue in the park.
Did he exist? Or was he an act?
More so, where had the carefree mischievous boy who had been her hero vanished to?
She supposed she had all the time in the world to find out.
Fleeing to parts unknown had been tempting. Hell, it was still tempting to turn his feet from Covenant Garden and his task at hand, and head somewhere, anywhere, far from London. The truth was, Rob’s life had gone so horribly wrong since the death of his father, he often wondered how the hell he’d lost himself. Once, he’d been so sure, so confident, so able to help others.
Giving his position up in the army had been difficult. He’d grown accustomed to charging into battle, protecting his men, and advocating for them as they marched into Egypt. Since then, he’d been able to help no one.
Not even himself.
Now, that would all change.
With his marriage to Harriet, his family’s fortune would completely turn. Mary could wed whoever she chose. His mother could cease her worrying.
If anything, he should have felt relieved. But he couldn’t.
He kept thinking about the girl he’d known. How wild and free she’d been as she’d chased him over the fields and streams, daring to do whatever the boys had done. How wild and free she truly still was. Her chasing him and cornering him in his coach was only evidence of her impulsive and brash love for life.
What would happen as the years passed? As he failed to give her the family she longed for?
She’d grow to hate him.
But there was nothing to be done about it. He’d have to find a way to make her happy without children. Surely, such a thing was possible.
He frowned. Harry would have made an excellent mother.
Shaking the thought away, he turned down a crooked street of Covenant Garden, passing several houses of prostitution. He stepped around the lolling bodies of workers who’d spent their wages on gin and who were now sleeping the night’s excesses off.
The stench was powerful, but he was accustomed to this part of town. He’d bec
ome good friends with it when he realized the depth of his situation and it was here that he had met Richard Heath, gambler, confidence man, and retired highwayman.
Richard Heath had opened up a club for well-heeled gentlemen not five years ago where people of Rob’s class went to drink, lose money, and escape the boredom of their lives for but a few hours.
And it was there that Heath had become one of the wealthiest men in London.
It was to Heath that his father had been indebted a mere thirty thousand pounds.
Rob had gone to the club owner personally and asked for his patience.
Heath had drawn out a knife and explained that the only reason he had yet to extract payment in one form or another was due to the fact that he was a duke and that his father was a duke.
It was then that he had learned that his father had had every intention of marrying Mary to Heath.
It had been Heath who’d rejected the idea. Apparently, the club owner didn’t believe in prostitution of any kind which was a rare thing in these parts.
Rob turned, spotted the towering facade of whitewashed, Corinthian columns which caused the club to stand out as a swan amongst crows.
There was no one sleeping in front of Heath’s.
Rob didn’t have to knock on the tall, red doors.
A doorman opened one of the double doors as soon as he stood before the granite threshold.
After passing into the dim corridor hung with the most expensive gold brocade, he quickly went to the back where he knew Heath would be tallying the night’s accounts. The retired thief didn’t trust anyone else to do it.
Several of his most trusted men stood about the club, a solid presence which would deter anyone who might think they could fleece the place.
The empty gambling hall had already been polished to perfection. It glowed like a golden sovereign which was no mean feat given the debauchery that had likely occurred but a few hours before.
Heath didn’t even look up. “Your Grace, to what do we owe the pleasure?”
The cultured, deep voice rolled across the room and, once again, Rob found himself wondering where the devil the man had grown up.
