“Beyond the fact that we’ve spent more time at society balls in the past few weeks than in the past few years?”
Coventry smiled ruefully. “Beyond that. Haven’t you noticed?”
“Noticed what?
“How lately we are separated as soon as we enter a room.” Indeed, the only place that they were safe was in the catacombs of Wycombe.
Puzzled, Ash thought about it. “Now that you mention it, yes. Only last week at Pennington’s soirée, I was forced to climb a tree to rescue a foolish kitten at the bequest of Lady Caroline.”
“And it appears we are about to be sent on some other spurious errand.” Coventry nodded in the direction of Lady Blakemore and her sister-in-law.
“What do you make of it?”
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”
And he knew just where to start looking. He’d bet his fortune that it had something to do with Lady Georgina.
Extricating himself from Lady Penelope proved easier in theory than in actual practice. While Lady Blakemore embroiled Ash in some false endeavor, he’d spent the better part of a half hour searching for a lost pearl earring only to have Lady Penelope, at his suggestion, miraculously “find” it in her reticule. If she wasn’t Blakemore’s sister, he would have soundly throttled the witless creature.
He didn’t know what game these women were at, but he was determined to find out.
Where is she? The nagging voice inside him would not quiet.
The entire time spent looking for the blasted earring, he’d been all too conscious that Lady Georgina had not returned to the ballroom. He couldn’t keep his gaze from straying to the door. What could be keeping them?
Of course, it was obvious what was keeping them.
Though he wanted Georgina to leave him be, a part of him didn’t want to believe he could be so wrong about someone. Again. He’d half-believed her to be different. Changing targets so quickly bespoke a falseness of character that he would not have attributed to her. And the thought of her succumbing to Rockingham as easily as she had to him made him ill. Foolishly, he’d thought her passion had been something more than lust. Perhaps it was what he wanted to believe.
Waiting proved too much. The last of his restraint exhausted, he started toward the garden, dreading what he might find, but unable to keep from seeing it for himself.
There were two things that hit him the instant he stepped outside. First, it was a bloody shame to waste such a fine night parading around a stuffy ballroom and second, Lady Georgina and Rockingham were nowhere to be seen. A circle of iron lanterns lit the forefront of the garden, providing ample area for the guests to stretch their legs along the concentric circular paths laid out around a large fountain. Indeed, a good number of people were already making use of such.
A quick study of the layout gave him his direction. Because it was where he would go if he wanted to seduce a woman, Coventry plunged into the darkness toward the distant and secluded greenhouse.
As he wound deeper into the darkness, the circular maze of paths soon turned frustrating. He supposed it would have been too obvious to lay out a straight path. A thin haze shrouded the moon across a starless sky. He wished he’d had the foresight to grab a lantern, he could barely see ten feet in front of him.
Finally, he reached the greenhouse. A quick look satisfied him that Georgina and Rockingham were not inside. He was more relieved than he wanted to admit. Perhaps he’d merely missed their return?
He was just about to start back when a crunch of gravel coming toward him drew his attention. He slipped behind a small thatch of rosebushes just in time to see a flash of silvery blue slide past. The color of her gown. His heart pounded in his chest as he waited for them to pass. She came so close he could smell the familiar sweet scent of her perfume.
“We should be getting back,” he heard her say.
“As you wish.”
“Thank you for walking with me, I feel much improved.”
Coventry watched his friend execute a mocking bow. “It has been my pleasure. Shall we rest a moment before we return?” Rockingham led her to an iron bench outside the greenhouse. “I must confess that my intentions were not purely altruistic.”
“They weren’t?” She didn’t sound surprised.
“No. Your father has informed you—”
“He has.” He could almost hear Georgina’s blush, she sounded so flustered.
“And you are not adverse to a match between us.”
Coventry’s heart stopped. She seemed to hesitate. Every muscle in his body tensed, focused intently on her response.
“N…no.”
He felt like someone had just kicked him in the gut.
“I don’t know,” she equivocated softly. But indecision wasn’t enough to lessen the blow. Only an immediate refusal could have done that.
Rockingham laughed. Huskiness had crept into his voice, deepening for the seduction. “How can I convince you?”
Coventry wanted to rip Rockingham’s cursed tongue out.
“I’m sure you could think of something,” she flirted shyly.
Rockingham leaned closer, his movements slow enough for her to stop him. But she didn’t. She wanted him to kiss her. Coventry couldn’t believe it.
Why he should be surprised he didn’t know. But he was. The betrayal hit him hard, perhaps even harder than Serena’s, though it didn’t make any sense. Serena had been his wife, Lady Georgina was nothing. A pest. A nuisance that he was eager to be rid of.
Liar, the pathetic voice inside him whispered.
Rockingham pulled her into his arms and touched his lips to hers. Coventry lurched forward. Stop him, he wanted to yell. But she didn’t. He couldn’t see her expression, but he could see her movements. Utterly fixated, he waited for the slightest indication that Rockingham’s advances were unwelcome. Nothing. She didn’t make a single move to resist.
His eyes burned, glued to the scene unfolding before him with perverse fascination that bordered on self-flagellation. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how deep the whip flayed his skin, he couldn’t look away.
Locked between a primitive rage that burned to yank them apart and sanity that reminded him he didn’t care, Coventry watched Rockingham kiss her again. This time it was neither chaste nor gentle. She didn’t struggle, but melted against his friend.
Just as she had him.
It was the final blow.
A coldness descended over Coventry, so complete it turned his insides to ice, freezing whatever small part of him he’d unwillingly yielded to Lady Georgina. No matter how she appeared, she was no different from the rest.
He’d seen enough. Turning on his heel, he spun around and made his way back to the ballroom. Back to the things that did not disappoint: drink, cards, and whores. Whores who did not hide their true nature under a thin veil of propriety.
The weakness that haunted him had finally fled. This time for good.
“Did you hear something?”
Gina pulled away from Lord Rockingham’s embrace, only too happy for the interruption. No matter how hard she tried to conjure up enthusiasm, it wasn’t happening. His kiss, though pleasant, didn’t leave her feeling breathless. Nor did she feel the least inclined to tear off his clothes, or her clothes, or anyone else’s clothes for that matter.
What was wrong with her? Why was she comparing his kiss to another?
Rockingham didn’t seem to sense her disquiet. In fact, he looked exceedingly pleased with himself. “It was probably just a cat or a bird.” Or the cat who ate the canary, she thought annoyed by his expression. He stood to help her up. “But we should return. I don’t want you compromised.”
Though actually, he sounded as if he wouldn’t mind it at all. Gina quickened her pace, realizing that she would. After her little experiment, Gina was even more positive that Lord Rockingham was not the man for her.
He evoked none of the feelings that she experienced with Lord Coventry.
So where exac
tly did that leave her?
It left her with a profound headache. Two hours of dancing with as many unattached gentleman as she could cram on her card brought her no closer to an answer. If anything, she was only more confused. Certainly, she’d enjoyed the company of many of the men she’d danced with, but not one of them had made her pulse race or her breath catch. Even a little. Maybe she was expecting too much? Attraction wasn’t everything. Esteem and respect were much more important.
Many people married with far less, why did she think that she deserved something more? But the truth was she had always sought what her parents had. That was why she hadn’t accepted any of the other proposals, even though she’d liked a number of the men well enough. She’d always sensed that there was something vital missing. And now, thanks to Coventry, she knew what it was: passion, desire, and love.
She started. Love. There it was. The horrifying thought that had been nagging her, out in the open. Had she fallen in love with Lord Coventry?
Was that what kept her looking over her shoulder all night for a glimpse of him? Was that what made her heart throb with emptiness and disappointment when he’d failed to appear?
She was trying so hard not to think about him, she could hardly think of anything else.
Yet how could she love a man who was so thoroughly unlovable? He was cold, hard, and cruel. Yes, she admitted, but he was infinitely more complicated than that. There were reasons for his behavior. Not excuses, but reasons all the same. And sometimes he wasn’t cold, hard, or cruel at all, but witty and charming. And vulnerable.
Suddenly, Augusta rushed to her side, frantic. “Here you are, Gina. Come quick. You have to do something.”
Gina had never seen Augusta in such a desperate state. “What is it?” she asked. “What’s the matter?”
“It’s Coventry. He’s lost all reason. I’ve never seen him so reckless.” A soft cry escaped from her lips. “He’s going to lose everything.”
He must be gambling. And apparently doing a poor job of it. Though she didn’t know what she could do to help, Gina allowed Augusta to lead her toward the card room. As they drew nearer, it was obvious from the crowd that something significant was occurring.
“Wait,” Gina grabbed Augusta’s arm before she started plowing through the people milling about the doorway. “What can I do?”
“You have to try to stop him,” Augusta begged. “Maybe he’ll listen to you.”
Gina didn’t think so, but allowed Augusta to pull her through the crowd. When she saw Coventry, she had to cover her mouth to stifle a gasp. He was seated at a round table with four other men playing hazard. The box and dice were set before him, so she knew that he was caster. Immediately, she understood why Augusta was so upset. He was foxed, more so than she’d ever seen. His eyes were bloodshot and bright with wildness that bordered on madness.
Something was wrong, very wrong. Looking at him, Gina saw a man on a short path to self-destruction.
“How bad is it?” she whispered to Augusta.
“Lord Ashley told me he’s already lost upward of twenty-five thousand pounds.”
Gina’s shock at the amount forestalled her inquiry into what Augusta had been doing conversing with Lord Ashley.
Later. Right now she had to do something about Coventry. He’d already lost a fortune, and given the size of the bets in front of him, he could potentially lose a lot more. Feigning a gaiety that she did not feel, she stepped between Coventry and Count Lieven, the groom porter. “So here you are, hiding in the game room? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?”
He ignored her and called the main, a seven.
Gina held her breath as he shook the box and rolled the dice. A two and a five. He’d nicked. “Oh, how wonderful, you’ve won. Just in time for our dance.”
Their eyes met, sending a chill through her. “I think you must be mistaken.”
He made a move to throw in, increasing his wager. She lowered her voice to a plea. “Please, don’t you think it’s time to stop?”
“Stay out of this,” he snarled. “It’s none of your damned business. Why don’t you go find Rockingham, I’m sure he’ll ‘dance’ with you.”
The venom in his tone took her aback.
He paused and looked straight into her eyes, not bothering to hide his contempt. “Or perhaps you’d rather take another promenade around the garden.”
Her head jerked back as if he’d slapped her. All at once she understood. He’d seen her and Lord Rockingham in the garden. The noise she’d heard had been him. What must he think? She had to explain. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly.” He increased his wager.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to stand away from the table, Lady Georgina,” Count Lieven said. “Lord Coventry has placed his bet.”
Gina knew that she was making a scene, but she would be embarrassed later. Stepping away from the table, she tried one more time, unable to hide her despair. “Why are you doing this?”
She didn’t think he was going to answer, but right before he tossed the dice, he said, “Don’t you find it entertaining?” He cast his gaze around meaningfully, the crowd hovered like a wake of vultures circling a dying man. “It appears that you are in the minority.”
Was that why he did this? Was that the explanation for his hedonistic lifestyle? To relieve the boredom? To relieve the emptiness? Shame coursed over her when she thought of her own conduct. How alike they were, willing to shock to put a crinkle in the chains of monotony.
He rolled. Not a seven, but a five. His chance. The groom porter called out five to seven. Gina’s heartbeat raced. Coventry had to roll a five before he rolled a seven. The odds were called three to two against him. He increased his bet and the other men covered accordingly. There had to be at least another ten thousand on the table. The crowd held their breath. He rolled again. An eight. Nothing. The crowd let out a collective sigh.
As he picked up the dice to throw again, Gina became aware of a small disturbance moving through the crowd behind her.
“What is my foolish son doing this time?”
So intently was she watching Coventry, that Gina noticed the almost imperceptible stiffening of his shoulders as his mother’s presence registered.
A defiant gleam shone in his eyes as he delivered the dice. This time there was a gasp. A three and a four. Seven. He’d lost.
Gina didn’t need to worry about making a scene. It would not be her part in tonight’s events that people would remember.
His mother stormed to the table, her face a contorted sheet of crimson fury.
“You foolish, stupid boy, what have you done?” She swatted at him with her fan, but despite his drunkenness, his hand whipped out to catch it before she struck him.
Lazily, he pushed back in his chair, but Gina could see the tic on his neck pulsing furiously. “It appears, Mother, that I have lost.”
“Lost? You’ve lost a fortune! We’ll be ruined. You might have no care for yourself, but how can you do this to your sisters?”
Augusta made a small sound at her side. Seeing the horror on her face, Gina reached down to clasp her hand. It shook. The scene between Coventry and his mother was horrible enough to watch in private, let alone in front of a room full of the gawking ton, painfully eager for any morsel of salacious gossip. This would keep them eating for weeks.
Coventry stood, trying not to stagger. Summoning all the pride he could muster under the mortifying circumstances, he said, “You forget yourself, Madame. I believe it is my fortune to win or lose as I see fit.”
Something in his voice made Gina’s heart catch. He didn’t seem so much a profligate rakehell right now, as a vulnerable boy searching for a scrap of pride to hang on to, humiliated by the person who should love him the most. He turned his back on his mother to leave.
One look at the countess and Gina knew it was not over. Spittle collected at the edge of her mouth, all sense of her treasured propriety had vanished.
“I a
lways knew you’d do something like this. Even as a boy we knew you wouldn’t amount to anything.” Her voice dripped with scorn. “Look at you, you’re nothing more than a drunken wastrel. You’ve disgraced your family and the earldom. I’m only glad your father isn’t alive to see you gamble away your inheritance.”
The silence was deafening. He turned and gave his mother a long look. “Then that makes two of us who are glad for his death.”
The countess gasped. Augusta made a sound like a wounded animal. Enough. Gina tucked Augusta under her arm and turned her away. They’d seen enough.
Perhaps it was Gina’s leaving that provoked the countess—watching a potential fortune-saving heiress walking away.
Her voice shook with contempt. “Your feelings are as vile as they are unnatural. I pray that you will never know the pain of such hateful offspring. Perhaps we should be glad that you couldn’t keep your wife in her own bed long enough to procure an heir.”
Gina’s heart slammed into her chest. Augusta began to weep. Trying to console her as best she could, Gina hurried Augusta from the room, stealing one last look at Coventry.
He held his face impassive, but his mother’s cruel words had pierced the veil of reserve. The look in his eyes broke her heart. Pain, agony, betrayal, humiliation. The drinking, the gambling, the dissolute lifestyle, nothing could hide what he was feeling right now. He looked like a man who had been beaten until he couldn’t get up. Worse, he looked like a man who believed that he was as worthless and flawed as his mother claimed.
But the countess was wrong.
At that moment, in the midst of his mother’s public humiliation, Gina knew. Knew it with every fiber of her being. Lord Coventry was a man worthy of love. He only needed someone strong enough to show him.