The Devil and the Viscount, page 12
“My dear, these stakes are too high,” she warned. “You should stop now.”
“I have allowed myself so much, ma’am, and when my purse is empty, I will stop! Though my luck is clearly turning. Will you not play?”
“No, I believe I will seek my bed. Princess, might I rely on you to take care of my young friend?”
Gina breathed a sigh of relief. At least Mrs. Fitz was not provoking a quarrel to make her leave at the same time. The stage was almost set…
“I shall act as the strictest chaperone in your absence, Mrs. Fitzwilliam,” the princess said kindly. “If you are determined to leave us, let me show you out. Be assured I shall return her right to the door of your rooms. Excuse me one moment, Miss Wallace.”
Gina watched the quiet conversation as the two women walked to the door. Mrs. Fitzwilliam gave a relieved smile. Then the footman opened the door and she was gone. The princess rustled back to her chair.
“What did you say to her?” Gina murmured.
“Not to worry. That I would not take your winnings but was merely showing you how quickly one could be ruined playing for such high stakes.”
“The aim being to sicken me of gambling before I marry?”
The princess smiled brilliantly. “Another hand?”
“If we raise the stakes…”
Everything was going exactly to plan, now. In front of the princess was piled all the money Gina had with her, including several large notes weighed down with coins. She had just written out her first promissory vowel when the unthinkable happened.
A peremptory knock on the door had Gina’s heart beating fast with anticipation. She and the princess exchanged breathless glances.
The footman opened the door—to reveal not Lord Longton but several young men.
The footman glanced back at the princess for instruction. She rose to her feet as one gentleman pushed to the front.
“Evening, Aline,” Rollo Darblay said cheerfully. “May we be so rude as to—” He broke off, his eyes widening as they clashed with Gina’s.
And then the dog erupted with joy.
*
Rollo was utterly thrown by her presence. Had she somehow got wind of the stupid duel? Had some idiot found his letter to her and given it to her without him actually dying? Or did she know about…?
Confusion crystalized into entirely unreasonable fury as the quality of her companions struck him. A few fast women, and a collection of drunken rakehells with whom he was well acquainted.
The cry of his name went up from the latter. “Rolls!” At the same time, about half a ton of dog hit him like a cannonball. Meade and Dom held him upright while a large tongue slathered over his face.
“Catch him, Darblay!” came the unlikely voice of Archie Holles—he was far too serious to be among this lot of wastrels.
Rollo gazed into adoring canine eyes. “Pup?”
None of this made sense. But at least some instinct made him grab the beast’s collar as he hauled him off and then pick up the leash, which had clearly been yanked out of someone’s hand.
“My new dog,” Archie said, hurrying to take the leash from him. “The princess was kind enough to let him stay, but he—”
“His lordship is quite unhurt,” the princess interrupted. “And at least the beast didn’t knock over any furniture. My lords, gentlemen, welcome. I imagine you need no introduction to my other guests. A glass of wine?” The footman came forward with the tray. “Please, be seated where you will, or just watch the play.”
Rollo barely managed a bow before he made a beeline straight for Gina. Her eyes were trying to convey something to him, but he was far too angry to decipher it. All he saw was desperation, pleading, a hint of shame.
“Miss Wallace.” He bowed, almost as if throwing the courtesy at her. “May I?”
“Sadly not, my lord. The princess and I are in the midst of play.”
Stupidly, the refusal made him even angrier, and then he saw the mountain of money and vowels sitting by the princess’s seat. He lowered his voice. “Where is Mrs. Fitzwilliam?”
“In bed, I imagine,” said Princess Aline. “If you please, my lord?”
Impatiently, he shifted and held the princess’s chair for her, though he immediately stepped closer to Gina. “For God’s sake, let me take you to her.”
“That would not be proper, my lord. Princess, your card.”
Dismissed, Rollo felt the world getting away from him all over again. Gina had somehow righted it, given him an anchor, a strategy. Given him hope along with need. And so much more. And yet there she sat, just like him, damn her, up to her neck in debt in dubious company he knew all too well.
A half-empty glass of red wine even sat by her elbow. A drop had spilled on the otherwise pristine white lace of her elegant evening gown and another on the glove beside her. Rage, not so much with her as at whatever or whoever had put her in such a position, all but overwhelmed him. Then someone had an arm through his—Dom—and pulled him away toward a game of hazard.
The stakes were high, and fortunately, perhaps, no chairs were available. Rollo, after glowering unseeingly at the game for a few moments, dragged Fitz back from it.
“You have to take her back to your aunt.”
“How do you propose I do that without raising a storm?” demanded Fitz, who had been skulking behind the others for some reason since they had come in.
“Is she even here at Renwick’s?”
“Of course she is,” Fitz said indignantly. “Brought them both myself. Had dinner with Mr. Wallace.”
Rollo glared at him. “And you never thought to say?” Gina had never thought to say, and that hurt more badly than anything. Of course, he had not been near her for the last few days, for fear he would give away the annoyance of his forthcoming duel, so he had hardly given her opportunity. But he had missed her abominably.
“None of your business, Rolls,” Fitz pointed out, and Rollo clenched his hands.
Gina stood up, and Rollo watched her retreat into what was probably the princess’s bedchamber. He could hardly disturb her there, but he moved around the other tables, determined to accost her when she came out again.
“Don’t,” murmured a feminine voice in his ear, and he turned to find Aline Hagerin pressing another glass of wine into his hand. He hadn’t touched the last one. “You’ll draw attention to her and that’s the last thing she needs. Ignore her.”
As it seemed she would ignore him. She emerged from the bedchamber and slipped around the tables farthest away from him to resume her seat. The princess rustled away from Rollo to join her.
It didn’t help his mood that the princess was correct. Her position in such a gathering was precarious at best. To be singled out by a notorious rakehell in the company would most definitely intensify the gossip to the edge of ruin.
But he was damned if he would leave her. Catching sight of the dog once more, he frowned and slouched over to join Holles, throwing himself into the conveniently vacant chair beside him, from where he could see both Gina and the play at her table.
At Holles’s table, play was just finishing up and discussion ensuing as to whether or not to change the game.
“That’s not your dog, Holles,” Rollo murmured. “It’s the Doves’ monster or I’m a lemon.”
“For tonight he’s mine.”
“Why?”
“Damned if I know,” Holles admitted. “Catherine asked it of me.”
Rollo met his gaze. “They’re up to something,” he breathed. “And the truly damnable thing is, we can’t help in any way because we don’t know what would make it worse.” If anything could.
It certainly got worse. While apparently drinking affably with Holles, Rollo was appalled to see Gina lose and lose more to the princess. She laughed it off with all the carelessness of a very wealthy young woman. Rollo did not doubt that she could afford to lose it, but he could not understand Princess Aline continuing to play with her.
Although on first-name terms with her, he did not know the princess well. But several of his friends, including Johnny Dearham and Harry de Vere, thought very highly of her. In fact, gossip once said that Dearham would marry her, back in the days when he was merely heir to the dukedom. Rumor also said that during the late wars, she had done the British government many favors at great personal risk. Why would such a woman fleece a vulnerable innocent like Gina?
As for Gina herself…was this merely another aspect of the recklessness that had thrown her into his arms in this very hotel? He could not understand or even separate the turbulent emotions tearing him apart.
Gina was writing out yet another vowel. The footman opened the door and bowed before admitting the unmistakable figure of Mrs. Snodgrass.
And behind her, none other than Lord Longton.
Blood sang in Rollo’s ears. He began to get an inkling of what Gina was about. “He has quite definite ideas of what he doesn’t want in a wife. I just have to convince him I have those foibles in spades.”
Aline rose, and the newcomers’ attention went straight to her and then to Gina, just as a promissory vowel on a scrap of paper floated from her elegant fingers to land on the large pile in front of her opponent.
Rollo tensed. He would not allow her to be insulted by anyone, least of all by that hypocritical old windbag who had once been a close friend of his father’s.
Chapter Twelve
At last.
Gina had sent Mrs. Snodgrass a long letter yesterday, to which she had replied only that she would do her best. And she had, for Longton was right behind her.
The moment was now, and Gina could barely breathe. And yet through it all was her misery that Rollo was angry with her, that in her attempt to be rid of Longton and save her father’s pride, she had ruined her nascent love before it had a chance. That it would all be for nothing.
His eyes bored into the side of her face as she gazed amiably across the room at the newcomers. She nodded civilly to Mrs. Snodgrass and smiled at Lord Longton.
The princess rose to greet her new guests, and Gina let her hand fall to Pup’s enormous head. Obligingly, he rubbed his face against her hand, giving her the excuse to make a big fuss of him. She even fed him a morsel from the princess’s plate. Then she rose and strolled toward the door.
Longton’s gaze was on the table and the heap of vowels and money at the princess’s side. On Gina’s abandoned gloves, on the dog.
“Mrs. Snodgrass, how do you do?” she said, offering her hand, which the lady shook with perfect courtesy. “My lord.”
Longton shrank back, staring with horror as her hand slipped from Mrs. Snodgrass’s hold. Presumably, he feared she would also offer it to him after she had been petting the dog. Well, she would not invite insult.
“I’m sorry I can’t stay, now that you have arrived,” she said gaily, “but I am quite rolled up for the next two quarters and must seek my bed before Mrs. Fitzwilliam scolds me. Princess Aline had all the luck. But I thank you for the vastly entertaining evening, ma’am!”
“Then I shall accompany you along the passage to your rooms as I promised your chaperone,” the princess said before turning back to Longton and Mrs. Snodgrass with a quick smile. “Please, make yourselves at home, and I shall return in one minute. Dennis, some wine here, if you please,” she added to the hovering footman.
“Please don’t trouble,” Longton said disdainfully. “I shall not be staying.”
“No?” The princess sounded disappointed. “But several of your particular friends are here! See, there is Sir Mortimer, and Mrs. Cannon is waving to you.”
That, Gina thought in awe, was a beautiful touch. But if Longton noticed his hypocrisy being pointed out, he gave no sign of it, merely bowing to his acquaintances and holding the door for the ladies to precede him.
Gina sailed through and would have kept walking, except that Longton spoke sharply behind her as soon as the door was closed.
“A moment with Miss Wallace, if you please, Princess.”
“I’m not sure I can allow that, standing in as I do, for Mrs. Fitzwilliam,” Aline replied.
“It’s fine,” Gina said without turning. “Mrs. Fitz knows that his lordship and I are old friends.” She heard the sound of his footsteps stalking up to her.
“Is this sort of behavior condoned by your father?” he snapped.
Gina feigned surprise and crossed her fingers behind her back. “I don’t know, but you could ask him. He has rooms next to ours.”
Longton’s eyes narrowed. “How much have you lost this evening, madam?”
“That is not yet any of your business, my lord.”
“It will never be any of my business. You are a disgrace. You reek of dog, and there is wine all over your clothing.”
“There will be wine all over yours if you are brave enough to insult me so in front of a true gentleman.”
A purple tinge had crept into his complexion. “Consider all agreements between us at an end.”
“Be so good as to write to my father to that effect before you leave the hotel. Since I was never party to the agreement, it is clearly nothing to do with me. Goodnight, my lord.”
As she spun away from him, she suddenly found Rollo at one side of her.
“Your gloves, Miss Wallace. Allow me to escort you and the princess to your door.”
She inclined her head, hoping he could not see the shaking of her entire body. The princess stood on her other side, while Mrs. Snodgrass took Longton’s arm in a soothing grip. At the same time, she secretly found Gina’s hand and squeezed it. Gratefully, Gina squeezed back and went on her trembling way.
“You did it,” the princess whispered with something very like unholy glee.
“No, ma’am,” Gina said huskily. “You and Mrs. Snodgrass did it. With a little help from Pup and Mr. Holles. And Catherine.”
“But not me,” Rollo said grimly.
He was still angry. Oh, please, God, please don’t let him stay angry with me…
“Why on earth would we involve you, Rollo?” the princess drawled. “You are in mourning, with more than enough on your plate from what I hear.”
Rollo cast her a quick, almost questioning look, but at least he did not berate her. And then they were at the door of the rooms she shared with Mrs. Fitzwilliam.
“Goodnight, my lord,” the princess said firmly.
“I, too, need a private word with Miss Wallace,” Rollo said.
“Not now, my lord,” Gina said firmly, though she offered him her hand, and when their eyes met, she tried to will him to understand. She had no idea if he did though, as she freed her hand and hugged Princess Aline. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”
And then she slipped inside the door and closed it.
A single lamp burned dimly in the sitting room.
“Is that you, Gina?” came Mrs. Fitzwilliam’s voice, muffled from her bedchamber door.
“Yes, the princess accompanied me back. Goodnight, Mrs. Fitz.”
“Goodnight.”
As she crossed toward her own chamber, dropping her stained gloves and reticule on the table, Little appeared at the door of the maids’ room.
“Go to bed, Little,” Gina said calmly. “I shan’t need you until the morning. I can manage the hooks on this gown quite easily.”
“But I—”
“Good night, Little.”
The maid swallowed and retreated, closing the door with a snap.
Gina whisked into her own room, snatched the traveling cloak from its place behind the door, and swung it around her shoulders before creeping back out, across the sitting room, and out into the corridor.
He hadn’t understood. He hadn’t waited. The disappointment was like a blow, the need to see him, touch him, explain, like a physical pain.
A shadow moved at the corner of the passage and resolved into the figure of a man.
“It’s me.”
Relief flooded her. She ran toward the figure, but he did not crush her in his arms as she expected. Instead, he snatched her hand and bolted through a door onto a well-lit back stairway. They ran up the steps together to another quiet passage, and Rollo opened the nearest door with a key. Pulling her inside, he closed and locked it again and turned up the lamp.
Words fell over each other in her need to make him understand everything, yet all that came out was, “Rollo, I—” before his arms came hard around her and his mouth seized hers.
With a sob, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, kissing him back with all the passion she had learned from him.
“I know,” he muttered between kisses. “You got rid of him, made him break the agreement so your father didn’t have to.”
“He hates gambling in women, slovenly women, scandalous women, pert women, dogs…”
Rollo’s mouth smiled against hers. “Arch hypocrite.”
She drew back slightly, taking his head between her hands so that she could look into his face. “I was afraid you felt the same. You looked at me with such anger.”
“Oh, not for you, never for you. I was afraid I had driven you to dissipation, made you like me, and for that, I’d never forgive myself. And I confess I was furious not to be included in your plans, not even to know of them. I was hurt, like some sulky schoolboy.”
She smiled tenderly, tracing his lips with her fingers. “I love this sulky schoolboy.”
“Oh, thank God.” His arms tightened convulsively. “I don’t know how you can, but I’ll take it with gratitude and joy. Will you marry me?”
“Oh yes,” she breathed, fusing her mouth to his.
“And that was the other part of your plan,” Rollo said, some moments later, throwing her cloak on the floor and starting on the hooks of her gown. “To have an alternative title on hand as a sop to your father’s pride.”
“To marry you was the original plan. Beyond any plans, it became my need. Rollo!” The last was a gasp, not of outrage but of sheer, unbearable pleasure as he attached his mouth to her nipple.
Still kissing her, he lifted her in his arms and deposited her on the bed, his hands sweeping everywhere in knowing, sensual caresses, even while they removed every item of her clothing and she wrenched at his. And then she let out a sob of joy as he pushed inside her, making them one again at last.
