Her Wanton Wager (27 page)

"You mean … with Nan?"

For devil's sake.
"Yes, her," Gavin said. "Unless you've got others waiting in the wings."

"Oh no, sir. I would ne'er …" Davey turned a bright shade of red. "Nan's the only one fer me. Though I don't reckon she feels the same. What would she want wif an ugly git like me?"

Unfortunately, Gavin could see the other's point. Davey had not been blessed when it came to matters of appearance. In addition to his lanky frame, the boy had brown hair that stuck up in a habitual cowlick, and his ears occupied an undeniably wide berth. Not the most promising packaging overall.

Gavin recalled the physical awkwardness of his own adolescence. The whores in the hulks had made a game of mocking him.
Jack the Slash, Scarred an' Feathered.
In retrospect, he understood that their pushing him in the dirt had allowed them to avoid the bottom rung; at the time, however, their jeers had only sparked his humiliation and burning need to prove himself.

Jaw tight, Gavin said, "You'll outgrow it."

He had. When he'd finally grown big and strong, ruling those hulks with his fists, the whores' tunes had changed. They'd vied for his attention—and he'd fucked them, coldly, never forgetting that like everything else, sex was about power. A transaction.
Use or be used.

"A man's worth is measured in more than looks," he said grimly.

"Miss Fines said the same thing. She said,"—Davey reddened further—"'e'vry boy's a prince inside.' And that's 'ow I'm to carry meself if I want to win a princess."

It sounded like something Percy would say. Sweet, idealistic—for an instant, Gavin wondered what his life might have been like if he'd met her earlier. If Morgan hadn't betrayed him, if he hadn't gone through the hulks … if he'd known her love rather than the scorn of slatterns, his mother's rejection  …

In other words, if everything was different.

His brows drew together as something raw seeped through the wall of anger. For once, what would it be like to trust someone? To lose himself in Percy's warmth …

"It's Nan's birthday next week. Miss Fines said Nan might like a present." Once started, Davey couldn't seem to
stop
talking. "She says as 'ow gifts make a girl feel special."

"She said that, did she?"

In his usual dealings with females, Gavin was generous with baubles and the like. His arrangement with Percy, however, had hardly been conventional. He'd been so caught up in the business of the wager (not to mention saving his own neck) that he hadn't thought to buy her anything. He would remedy that oversight. Percy deserved a gift as unique, as breathtakingly beautiful, as she was. Frowning, he wondered what the hell she would like.       

He coughed into his fist. "Did she, ahem, give you any suggestions?"

"I asked 'er. She said if it was 'er, she'd want somethin' … personal like." Scratching his head, Davey said, "Somethin' that tells the girl you've been thinkin' bout 'er. A bunch o' vi'lets, if they remind you o' 'er eyes." The boy looked at him glumly. "Problem is, sir, Nan's got
brown
eyes. Only brown flowers I can think o' are dead. An' I don't think she'd like that much."

Gavin's lips quirked. "I'd wager you're wise to skip the dead poesies."

"I did think o' meat pies," Davey said doubtfully.

"Too ordinary."

"Dark treacle?"

"Messy."

"Well ... " Davey hesitated. "'Er eyes do remind me a bit o' chocolate."

Gavin thought it over. "A sound choice. Ladies like their dish of chocolate."

"The barrow across the street charges three pence a cup," the boy said, shoulders hunching. "I han't got that much o' the ready."

Gavin fished a shilling from his pocket and pushed it over the counter. "That should cover it."

For some reason, the coin shattered the camaraderie. Davey backed away, shaking his head vehemently. "No, sir, you've done eno' for me as it is. I can't take your money."

"Take it." When the boy made no move to obey, Gavin scowled. "'Tis a bloody shilling, not an arm and a leg. Consider it my funding of Miss Fines' well-laid plan."

"But sir—"

"I haven't got all day. Take the coin and be off with you. I'm not paying your wages for you to stand around flapping your lips all day."   

"Thank you." A look of misery crossed Davey's face. "I don't deserve it … but thank you."

Odd lad.
"One more thing," Gavin said.

"Yes, sir?"

"When you are done with your chores, go see my valet. Have him deal with your hair."

"My 'air?" Davey said in alarm. "But, sir, I don't need—"

"Trust me, you do." The sight of the figure lounging in the doorway cut short Gavin's reply
.
Devil take it, just what I need.
"Evangeline," he said in clipped tones. "What are you doing here?"

She sashayed in, clad as usual in a gown that left little to the imagination. "Now, Hunt, is that anyway to greet an old friend?" As Davey scurried out, Evangeline smirked at his departing figure. "New boy? Not much to look at, is 'e?"

He ignored her prattle. "I thought I made it clear the last time that things are done between us."

Her smile slipped for only an instant. "A man can change his mind, can't he?" Her pale eyes slanted as she came closer, sliding onto the stool next to where he stood. She tossed a cloth bag upon the polished counter and ran a hand up his thigh.

He grabbed her wrist and removed her hand. "I told you—it's over."

"Why?" Her lips drew into a pout.

His jaw tightened. "Because I said so. Now be off."

"Is it someone else? You've found some tart, is that it? You think any light-skirt can give you the kind o' sport you need?"

"You'd better watch yourself," he warned her. "What I do is none of your business."

Abruptly, she switched tactics. "Come on, Hunt. Give us another try. No doxy can fuck you the way I do."

His patience came to an end. He opened his mouth to order her out ... but a flash of genuine emotion lit her eyes. Anxiety, the kind that even her practiced sultriness could not mask.

"What's this really about, Evangeline?" he said.

It wasn't jealousy—he knew that much. In the months they'd been bed partners, she hadn't given a damn whom he fucked and vice versa. No ties came with fornication. His unemotional dealings with Evangeline and others before her had never bothered him; yet now, with Percy in his life, he experienced a stab of regret. For the tawdriness that had gone on before her.

God help him, he wished he'd been a better man.

Evangeline's darkened lashes lowered. When she raised them, her eyes were as hard and cold as jade. "I need blunt, lover, an' I'll do whate'er it takes to get it." Reaching to the bar, she picked up her bag and untied the strings. "Anything you want, Hunt. For old time's sake."

TWENTY-FIVE

Holding up the veil that covered her bonnet, Percy made a polite curtsy and said, "'Tis a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Stewart."

"Back again, are you?" Hunt's partner, a giant of a man, looked her up and down and grunted. She'd met him in passing at her previous visits to the club, and he hadn't been any friendlier then. "What are you wantin' this time?"

So much for niceties. "I'd like to see Mr. Hunt, if I may," she said. "I shan't bother him long. My chaperone thinks I'm on an errand at the apothecary's."

"As a matter o' fact, now
is
a good time to see Hunt," the man said suddenly. "I'll show you the way myself."

She smiled at him. Perhaps she'd misread his reaction to her—Gavin had said that his mentor tended toward surliness. "I'd appreciate that ever so much, sir."

He led her through the club. When they reached a closed door at the end of the hall, something close to a smile curved his lips. "Seein' as you're old friends, there's no need to knock. Go ahead an' show yourself in."

"Thank you, Mr. Stewart—" she began.

But his long strides had taken him halfway down the hall.
What an odd man.
Pursing her lips, she reached for the brass knob and pushed the door open.

She saw Gavin standing by the bar. He was casually dressed in shirtsleeves, without a cravat ... and he was not alone. A woman in a scandalous red gown sat on a stool next to him. The two were so absorbed in conversation that they did not notice her standing there. As Percy watched, blood rushing in her ears, the doxy upended a bag, raining an assortment of objects onto the polished wood. Chains, rope ... a pair of cuffs?

"I've brought your favorite toys, lover," the woman said, running her bare fingertips over his chest. "What say we 'ave ourselves a l'il game?"

Gavin took the hand—and removed it. A look of distaste crossed his features. "If it's money you need, say so," he said curtly.

The woman—Evangeline—tossed her brassy curls. "I won't be indebted to you or any man. 'Tis an exchange I'm after ... and you want what I 'ave to offer." Leaning forward, she reached between his thighs.

"
Get your hands off of him.
"

The words exploded from Percy. Both Gavin and the other woman jerked in surprise as she marched toward them. Unfamiliar fury boiled in her veins, and she could scarcely think.

"Who the bloody 'ell are you?" the woman said with narrowed eyes.

"I. Am. With. Him." Percy stabbed a gloved finger in Gavin's direction. He was staring at her, wariness edging his blunt features.

"You and 'im?" Snorting, the tart had the temerity to eye her up and down. "Hunt needs more than a milk-faced miss to satisfy 'is particular appetites."

"That's enough," Gavin said in a taut voice. "Get out, Evangeline."

Percy glowered at him. "What appetites?"

With a superior smile, the trollop waved toward the counter. "See for yourself." She slid from her stool, sauntering toward the door. "Oh, and a word o' advice, luvie,"—she flung the words over her shoulder—"give 'im a struggle before 'e ties you up. The gent likes 'is wenches with a bit o' sauce."

The door slammed behind Evangeline, and Percy rounded on Gavin. Her breath rushed in and out of her lungs, unaccustomed rage pounding in her heart. All her life, she'd been known for her sunny nature; at the moment, she felt like thunderclouds ripe for a storm.

Hunt eyed her, rubbing the back of his neck. "That wasn't what it looked like."

Of all the
asinine
things to say. "So that
wasn't
a strumpet hanging all over you?" she said through clenched teeth.
Who is she? You're supposed to be mine.

He took a step toward her, but she moved out of his reach. "She is no one to concern yourself over," he said in stark tones. "Percy, come here."

"I will
not
. Not until you tell me what is going on." Her throat tight, she said, "Don't lie to me—are you … involved with her?"

He cursed. In the next moment, he moved quick as lightning and snatched her up. A squeak left her as he hauled her onto the bar, his hands planting on either side of her hips. Face-to-face, his gaze bored into hers.

"Evangeline and I had an arrangement at one time. But that is over," he said. "It has been over ever since I met you."

Some of the tightness in her chest eased. Whatever Gavin was, he was no liar; she could see the truth in the molten ore of his eyes. "You haven't ... been with her since we met?"

He shook his head.

Another thought assailed her. "Or anyone else?"

"No. Nor have I thought to." He looked at her steadily. "'Tis you I want, Percy."

Even as relief seeped through her, her gaze wandered to the assortment of objects next to her on the counter. Her belly fluttered at the coil of silken, tasseled rope. Swallowing, she waved her hand at the paraphernalia. "And what about this?"

His scar whitened. She saw the flexing of his strong, bare throat and had a revelation. Gavin Hunt was nervous. Hah. He
ought
to be. And she supposed she ought to be shocked by Hunt's proclivities; instead, she felt ... intrigued. But mostly
hurt
by the fact that he would share his desires with a light-skirt, but not with her.

Does he think I'm too missish to handle his needs? Is that why he hasn't spoken of marriage? I'm ... I'm not enough for him?

All of a sudden, she saw herself waiting by the window. Small and insignificant. Not important enough for anyone to return home for.

Though her heart squeezed, she lifted her chin. "I deserve to know," she said.

He straightened, ran a hand over his mouth. "This isn't the sort of thing one talks about with a well-bred miss," he said, dumping salt onto her wounds. "I don't want to shock you, Percy."

"Tell me the truth," she snapped.
"Tell me, or I will go. And I won't bloody come back."

Perhaps an ultimatum wasn't the wisest approach. But she was too hurt and angry to care.

His hands dropped to his lean hips.  "Have it your way, then." A challenging flare lit his gaze. "What do you know about the prison hulks?"

The non sequitur took her aback. A chill of premonition passed over her. "They're old battle ships. They're used to house prisoners when the jails are overcrowded," she said slowly. "The conditions aboard are said to be deplorable."

"There was one moored not far from here, up on the Thames Estuary." Heartbeats passed. "I spent ten years of my life in that stinking hellhole."

Gavin had been a
convict
? Shock percolated through her. "For ... for what crime?"

"A house burned down, and I was blamed for it," he said in terse tones. "I was innocent, but it didn't matter."

Her chest clenched. "How old were you? What about your family?"

"I was ten." His jaw ticked. "My mother had abandoned me months earlier. She got tired of supporting a bastard. I never knew my father."

Just a boy, with no one to protect him.
Eyes welling, she said, "Gavin, I—"

"You asked me once how I got this." He touched his scar, his lips twisting. "'Twas Stewart who gave it to me my first day in that hell. Do you know why?"