Hell of a Lady

by Anders, Annabelle

  Justin hardly knew where to begin.

  He did not want charity from the Prescott coffers.

  “He didn’t kick me off the property,” he hedged. “Nor did he invite me to supper.” None of which mattered, in fact. “I stopped over at Carlisle House.”

  Dev paused and then nodded slowly. “I see.”

  But did he?

  “I’m broke. Not only broke but in debt up to my eyeballs.”

  Dev winced. “I’d heard rumors about the Carlisle coffers.”

  “I suspected myself. Just didn’t realize it was this bad.” Justin attempted to stifle the frustration eating away at his heart. “Why now? Damn and blast, but why now?”

  Another sympathetic look from his cousin. “Sophia would kill me if she knew I even suggested such a thing, but has your betrothal to Miss Mossant been made official? I’ve yet to read any announcement, and I’m quite certain there is more than one heiress out there who would be more than happy to marry you.”

  “The betrothal is set.” Justin had expected to receive this course of advice, just not from Dev. “I wanted to ask you about investments. I have a small savings. Nearly a thousand pounds. I need to turn it into twenty.”

  “I knew you were a man of faith, but I didn’t realize you actually believed in miracles.” Dev laughed, angering him further.

  “I’m quite serious, Dev.” Justin ran one hand through his hair and paced across the floor to the window. “I need to bolster my new damned estate. And I need funds to support a wife.”

  “You know you needn’t come up with this yourself. I—”

  Justin held up one hand, effectively cutting off the offer Dev was about to make. “I’ve already accepted far too much generosity from your family.” Even his mother yet depended on the Prescott coffers.

  Justin had his own responsibilities now. He needed to devise his own means.

  “Well,” Dev hedged. “There’s always—”

  “The wager.”

  There. He’d said it. He’d voiced the thought that had taunted him all afternoon.

  The first time the idea niggled at him, he’d just begun reading over the Carlisle estate books two days ago. And as the extent of his predecessor’s debts grew in his mind, so did the idea.

  He hated that he’d entertain such a notion nearly as much as he hated the debts themselves.

  Justin paced across the room again. He would not take more charity.

  If he won the despicable wager, he would be protecting his betrothed from all those other cads with their eye on such a large pot. He’d then be able to provide for her, for her family, for his cousins. He could bolster his new estate.

  Each time he considered it, he wanted to vomit.

  “I’m a blasted vicar, Dev! What kind of an example would this set?” Justin rubbed the muscles at the back of his neck, knowing his cousin watched him closely. Was even Dev judging him this very moment?

  Dev didn’t answer, rather watched patiently as Justin crossed the room again.

  “But the wager is a danger to her as well,” Justin defended the idea. “You’re more familiar with the so-called gentlemen involved. Will they call it off if she marries?”

  Dev grimaced. “For seventy thousand pounds? I doubt it.”

  Justin wanted to punch something. He had never been a violent man, but this afternoon he’d gladly pound the bastard who’d initiated it into the ground.

  Except he didn’t know who that was. It didn’t matter at this point anyhow. The person who most likely deserved a facer was dead.

  St. John. For leading her on. For taking advantage of her affection. And then for not keeping the information to himself.

  “I ought to do it then.” Except participating in this damnable wager went against everything he’d ever stood for.

  “Will you tell her?”

  Tell her? And then take her virtue? Or what was left of it?

  God, the mere thought of exposing such intimate information about her… Justin shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know if you’ll tell her, or you don’t know if you’ll participate in the wager yourself?” Dev understood him all too well.

  “Neither.” Justin scrubbed a hand through his hair again. “Both.”

  Dev lifted a decanter from the corner of his desk. “A drink then?”

  Justin was about to take him up on the offer when the sounds of horses on the pavement outside reminded him why he’d come in the first place. “I’m to take her for a drive this afternoon.” With a glance at the clock, he moved toward the door. “I’m late already.”

  “Justin.” Dev’s voice gave him pause. “I’d avoid the park.”

  “Hell and damnation,” Justin spoke the words on a harsh exhale. He could only imagine what Miss Mossant faced next time she stepped out in society. “My thanks for the reminder.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  To Be Betrothed or Not To Be Betrothed

  Despite the turmoil rolling around inside him, Justin couldn’t deny the anticipation he felt at seeing Rhoda again.

  His heart jumped at the thought of hearing her voice, at watching the shifting emotions behind her brandy-colored gaze. His eyes hungered to drink in the curve of her neck and shoulders and hips. He cleared his throat self-consciously as he waited in the foyer of her mother’s house.

  The butler had assured him she’d only be a moment.

  Rustling at the top of the stairs drew his immediate attention. She’d changed out of the gown she’d had on this morning. She’d been wearing maroon then, but this afternoon, she was a blaze of gold.

  Earlier, her hair had been drawn back into a tight chignon at the nape of her neck. She’d appeared stern, almost like a teacher or a governess.

  Since then, she’d pinned it up loosely, allowing curling tendrils to caress her cheeks and jaw.

  Justin swallowed hard.

  He couldn’t let her go.

  He couldn’t.

  “Lord Carlisle.” Her voice echoed in the high-ceilinged foyer. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten our appointment.”

  She referred to it as an appointment. He considered himself to be courting.

  Did one court a lady who already had accepted him?

  If she’d give him the chance, he believed he’d court her for the remainder of his days.

  “Prescott and the duchess have returned to London.” He didn’t want to discuss his meeting with Dev.

  He didn’t even wish to think about it.

  “Sophia is here?” Her eyes flew open with something between relief and joy. But then she seemed to check herself. She smoothed a non-existent wrinkle from her gown and began descending the steps.

  Justin could only watch her move, fully appreciating one of God’s finest creations.

  Woman.

  This woman.

  “They arrived today,” he answered vaguely, his gaze settling on her delicate hands as she tied the bow of her bonnet. When she finished donning her gloves, he offered his elbow. “Shall we?”

  Tucking her hand into the crook of his arm felt right. Familiar and yet exciting. He breathed in her scent, appreciating her nearness all the more for his fear he might not be able to keep her.

  Neither of them spoke as he assisted her onto the high-perched seat and then went around to climb aboard himself. No room for a maid, nor a groom.

  With a flick of his hands, Justin steered the horses into the street and at the jerking motion, she clutched his arm again. Her continued silence gradually became somewhat uncomfortable and that was when he realized… “This was St. John’s Phaeton,” he stated baldly.

  He glanced sideways in time to see her nod. “It was.”

  Justin inhaled deeply. “Do you think of him often?” He’d wondered this on more than one occasion. Did she compare every gentleman she met with St. John? Did she compare Justin with St. John?

  They drove past the entrance to the park. Justin turned in the opposite direction. “At first,” s
he finally answered. “I fooled myself into believing I’d lost the love of my life.”

  Justin clenched his jaw.

  “But now,” she added, shaking her head. “I realize he cannot have felt the same. I was a toy.”

  Justin covered her gloved hand.

  “Tell me about these Carlisle sisters, your unmarried cousins. Are they elderly? Are they your wards now?”

  He appreciated her change of subject. “Definitely not elderly.” And they were not his wards either but still his responsibility. “The eldest, I believe, is thirty. The youngest twenty-one.” He’d only met the eldest of the women, the other three having been out during his short visit.

  “Did the former earl give them the benefit of a Season?”

  He’d not thought of that. He’d barely had time to inquire about their health. “I have no idea.”

  “Are they pretty?”

  Justin raised his brows. Again, he had no idea. The oldest was not an antidote, but he’d not really paid much mind to her looks. In answer, he merely shrugged.

  And then that bell-like laughter he’d not heard nearly enough of rang out beside him.

  “You are horrible, Lord Carlisle!” And she swatted him lightly.

  “Justin,” he reminded her. She’d called him by his Christian name first in the chapel, when…

  “Then you must call me Rhoda.”

  “Not Rhododendron?” he teased.

  “Definitely not Rhododendron. Only my mother gets away with that.” At the mention of her mother, her mood subdued. “Tell me about this estate of yours.”

  She was quite good at that. Changing the subject when things got uncomfortable.

  Justin released the reins just long enough to adjust his hat. “It was built in the early 1500s. And I don’t think it’s had a lick of maintenance done on it since then. But it’s beautiful in its own right.”

  “Your poor cousins!” But she was laughing.

  “I wouldn’t feel the weight of it so much if it weren’t for the poor tenant conditions. I only stopped into a couple of them, but both needed new roofs.”

  “You poor dear.” She patted his arm. “You’ve only been responsible for the spiritual health of others up until now. It must all seem rather daunting.”

  Her words comforted him. So simple and yet… such truth. “I imagine I left the bulk of my responsibilities up to God until now.”

  She laughed again. “Perhaps you ought to continue to do just that.”

  His heart warmed at her words. That a girl painted a tart by a few idiots of the ton could see such a simple truth.

  “Where are you taking us… Justin?” She remembered to call him by name. This afternoon already was improving his mood.

  He turned the vehicle onto a darker, narrower route. “Along with the debts I’ve inherited, I now own a townhouse in Mayfair.”

  She examined their surroundings, craning her neck to peer up at the flower boxes hanging over the cobbled street. “The outskirts of Mayfair, I take it?”

  This time, it was he who chuckled. “Where else would it be?”

  “Cheapside?” She slanted him a dancing smirk.

  He couldn’t help but lean closer to her. “Watch your mouth, minx. This might very well be your future home.”

  Rhoda’s heart skipped a beat. My future home. My future husband. She’d not ever enjoyed spending time with a gentleman so much as she was enjoying Justin’s company. She’d never felt she could trust someone so much.

  He spoke to her as though what she had to say was relevant.

  The thought brought her up short.

  She’d spent hours, hundreds of hours perhaps, in St. John’s company. She’d flirted with him. He’d flirted back. They’d spoken of the dismal London weather, of whom was betrothed to whom, of the theatre, for heaven’s sake. But they’d never spoken of personal matters.

  Even when she’d lain with him.

  He’d called her beautiful. He’d compared her hair to the mane of his favorite horse. She smirked at this memory. She’d thought it a compliment at the time.

  He’d rambled on and on about the smooth quality of her skin and the depths of her eyes. He’d even complimented her bosom.

  He’d never discussed his feelings, his thoughts about life. About the two of them or any future they might have had together.

  She’d made some grand assumptions based on all that frivolity. Some grand mistakes.

  Justin joked about himself. About his empty pockets, even. He allowed her words to bring him comfort. The tension had left his body when she’d offered her suggestions. She’d felt it. And then he’d leaned toward her and joked about their pending betrothal.

  He maneuvered the high-perched phaeton into an even smaller driveway and drew to a halt behind a weathered but rather grand townhouse. The brick was covered with black grime, and the windows had been boarded up. Other than that, it appeared to not be tilting in any one direction, and the roof seemed intact.

  A groom appeared from behind the mews and after a word with Justin, immediately went to securing the cattle. After tilting his head back to study the house for a moment, and looking a little uncertain, Justin climbed down and came around to assist her.

  Her hands landed easily on his shoulders while he grasped her waist tightly and lifted her to the ground.

  They hadn’t been this close to one another since he’d left Eden’s Court.

  When he’d kissed her.

  She enjoyed these brief moments, innocent though they might be. Allowing her body to slide along the length of his, the contact stirred up his spicy scent so that it tickled her nostrils.

  She didn’t step away when her feet hit the ground.

  Instead, she enjoyed the feel of his breath on her forehead. If she placed her cheek against his chest, she would hear his heartbeat.

  She was supposed to be breaking off their betrothal, and all she could think about was how to entice him into kissing her again.

  “I missed you.” His voice came out gravelly sounding and so he cleared his throat.

  Rhoda tilted her head back and could not help but be caught. His blue gaze nearly took her breath away. How had she missed this when they’d first met? How had she not been affected by not only his looks but his goodness? His character?

  Her gaze shifted to his mouth as it seemed to be dipping toward hers.

  “My lord, Should I take the horses off or—”

  The groom stifled his question and quickly retreated when he realized he might be interrupting something.

  At the same time, Lord Carlisle dropped his hands from her hips and took a long step backward.

  Rhoda nearly toppled onto her backside without his support.

  First her mother and now this!

  “We won’t be long. They should be fine.” He’d stepped over to run his hands along the back of one of the horses.

  Rhoda reached up and collected her reticule from the high seat. Was he relieved to not kiss her? Had she embarrassed him? She wouldn’t stand around to wait and see. She removed her gloves and edged toward the stoop leading to the back of the house.

  “I have the key here somewhere.” He swept past her almost indifferently and began jiggling the lock. After considerable fussing, the door finally swung open. “I’d normally allow you to enter first, but I’m not certain it’s safe,” he explained over his shoulder and stepped inside.

  Rhoda followed. “I’m not an invalid,” she snapped but didn’t think he heard her.

  “What’s that?” He peered around the door and flashed a smile, melting her insides again.

  “I’m not afraid to go in.” She climbed the steps and followed him inside.

  Her eyes required nearly a full minute to adjust to the darkness. This room had obviously been utilized as a kitchen at one point. Gradually, she made out the shape of a large stove and two conveniently placed counters.

  Justin took her hand and led her through the threshold to the rest of the house.

  H
e’d removed his gloves as well and their palms pressed into one another, flesh upon flesh.

  He squeezed her hand, and, at that moment, she knew she’d not embarrassed him. He’d wanted to kiss her. Warmth spread from her chest to her limbs.

  “There are two drawing rooms and a ballroom. It’s in horrible condition but quite large.”

  Rhoda murmured something, she couldn’t think what, and followed him from room to room.

  She enjoyed the sound of his voice. His congregation must miss him something fierce. Especially those of the female persuasion.

  “And the master chamber.” A large bed sat in the middle of the room, draped in sheets. “It’s rather substantial.” He released her hand to begin opening some of the doors that lined the walls. “Ah, a dressing room.” And then he returned. “And another bedchamber through here.”

  Rhoda wandered slowly toward the window. “You can see the park from here!” she exclaimed in surprise.

  It was a beautiful house.

  It would be a beautiful house.

  After a few thousand pounds was dumped into it.

  He’d returned to the room and was watching her, a grimace on his lips. “It is in horrible repair.”

  She couldn’t pretend otherwise, and so she nodded. “But it could be a wonderful home.” It was so much larger than her father’s townhouse. “It seems solid enough.”

  He smiled at that.

  “I cannot marry you,” she blurted. “You need to marry money.”

  He went still at her words. “I need to marry you.”

  A sob nearly tore past her throat. “We would be broke. Worse than that, your cousins would be broke. And your tenants would remain in squalor.”

  He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I spoke with my solicitors, regarding some investments I might make.” He shifted his gaze to the floor. “Let’s not be hasty.”

  That’s what he’d said before. She dared not to breathe while waiting for him to continue.

  “Do you not wish to marry me?” His question took her by surprise.

  “You are insane for wanting to marry me!” She closed her eyes. “I’m no prize, that’s for certain.”

  And then she was in his arms. And his hands roved frantically over her back, down her sides.