Mutual Consent (28 page)
Babs and the earl entered the drawing room. She closed the door, gesturing him to sit down even though she had not yet done so. Lord Chatworth accepted her courtesy with a nod of acknowledgment and dropped into a chair with a sigh.
Babs seated herself on the settee opposite him. She had thought that she would be shy in his company after the passion they had shared, but she found that it was not so. She was far more concerned with the weariness in his face and his stillness than with her own belated modesty.
“Marcus? What has happened?”
The earl opened his eyes and lifted his head from its resting position against the back of the chair. His eyes were cool as he said, “The wheels are set in motion. After the vote tomorrow in the House, it is my hope that your father will be utterly ruined and I will have broken his hold on me at last.”
Babs shivered at the cold satisfaction in his voice.
He noticed, and the mocking smile touched his lips. “Do I shock you, my dear wife?”
She shook her head quickly. “No, it is not that. I knew when we first met that you were a strong man, perhaps even as ruthless as my father. I knew also that it would take such ruthlessness to win free of him. I do not regret it in any way.”
Lord Chatworth got up. He crossed the short distance between them to seat himself on the settee beside her. He took her hands. “Look at me, Babs.” When she had raised her eyes to his face, he said, “I want you to thoroughly understand what I intend. I mean to bring your father to ruin. I have arranged for all of the cotton and wool on the market to be completely bought up. When the vote is taken, and if it goes the way that I think it will, then those same commodities will be offered to him at exorbitant rates. Cribbage will be forced to buy at the highest prices of the decade to keep his mills running. He cannot possibly do so without more capital. He will be forced to borrow whatever funds he can.”
The earl’s gray eyes gleamed. “He will come to me, Babs. My vowels will no longer be worthless scraps of paper to him, but instead represent a small fortune. And I shall redeem them, but only after extracting his signature on a written legal caveat that he will not again approach either of us or our heirs for the remainder of his life.”
“I see nothing to object to in that,” Babs said. She frowned a little and shook her head. “But I do not understand. You have said that you will bring ruin on my father.”
“Babs, Cribbage will not be able to recover from such a financial blow. In a matter of months at most, he will be forced to begin the selling of his mills to repay his debts. Or he will end in a debtor’s prison,” Lord Chatworth said quietly.
There was a short silence as Babs absorbed his meaning. She felt a fleeting pity for her father, but it was not of him alone that she thought. The freedom that she had so wished for her husband had changed her own circumstances quite drastically. She disregarded his lordship’s allusion to their heirs with regret, for surely he spoke only out of his sense of duty toward her. He could not really wish to remain married to the daughter of the man who had held him under threat of blackmail these several months.
Babs withdrew her hands from the earl’s clasp and rose from the settee. She went to the mantel and stared into the fire. Without looking around, she said, “I have wished often for the destruction of my father’s suffocating hold on me. You have made that possible.”
She turned. Her wide green eyes were perfectly steady in expression. “I believe that you wished our agreement to be one of temporary duration, my lord. I shall not counter against a suit for divorce.”
The earl slowly rose to his feet. There was an unreadable expression on his face. “Is that what you wish, Babs?”
“It is not a question of what I wish or do not wish, my lord,” she said quietly. She felt the trembling begin deep inside of her. Her heart felt as though it was breaking, but she could not unsay the words, nor did she truly wish to do so. She loved the gentleman who stood watching her with all of her being. She would not hold him fettered by an agreement forged out of necessity. If she did so, she believed that he would eventually come to hate her.
Lord Chatworth crossed to stand beside her. He looked down into her somber eyes. “What is it that you wish, Babs?” he asked very softly.
“That is unfair question, my lord, as well you know. I came to you to form a bargain. You have upheld your end of it and now it is time for me to do the same,” said Babs.
“And is that to be the end of it?’’ He reached up to smooth her hair and then his hand dropped gently to rest upon her shoulder. “Babs, our agreement fashioned the basis of an admirable partnership. But it was not all-encompassing. I think that point was made rather tellingly this afternoon. Or must I remind you of it?” He bent his head and would have taken her lips, but she ducked swiftly away.
Babs’ voice wobbled with the determined control that she exerted upon herself. “Pray do not do this to me, Marcus. I do not think that I can bear it. What happened between us was a mistake. We should never have—”
“A mistake, my lady? I do not think of what we shared in such terms,” said Lord Chatworth evenly, though his eyes smoldered with the beginning of temper.
“But, indeed, it was just that! Oh, perhaps it does not appear so to you. I should not expect a rakehell to understand. After all, what does one woman more or less mean to one grown so indifferent? For you are indifferent, are you not, Marcus? Your reputation—”
Lord Chatworth muttered an oath and caught her up in his arms. He kissed her thoroughly and with fierce possession. Babs pushed against him at first, but abruptly she gave in. No longer rigid in his arms, she gave back all that he wanted of her. The unexpected strength of her passion was electrifying.
When Lord Chatworth lifted his head, he was breathing quickly and his heart pounded. She lay her cheek against his waistcoat. His arms folded about her and he pressed his chin against her soft fragrant hair. “My dear lady wife, I do not wish to bring suit against you,” he said hoarsely.
“Why? I have been a mettlesome nuisance and an encumbrance to you. You have often wished me to the devil, I know,” said Babs.
“Damn you, Babs. What is it about you that has me so tied in knots?” he muttered. He took hold of her shoulders and moved her back from him so that he could stare grimly into her face. “I never thought to ever say this. But as it is already in all the clubs, I suspect that I have no choice but admit to it. I have fallen in love with my lady wife. I do not wish to let you go, Babs, unless that is your wish of me.”
“You, Marcus?”
“Yes, I,” he said, mocking the astonishment inherent in her voice. The twisted smile touched his face. “And what of you, Babs? Do you not also have a confession to make to me?”
Babs stared at his shirt front. Her heart was singing but she would not put an end to his suspense so soon. He had seduced her most heinously and then left her in dread uncertainty of his feelings toward her. Now she had the means to revenge herself a little. “I don’t know what you mean, I’m sure,” she said firmly.
“I am set down, indeed.” His voice was quiet, so quiet that she cast a startled glance upward.
It was a mistake, as she quickly realized when he swooped down to capture her lips. Laughter bubbled up in her.
Lord Chatworth raised his head, his brows snapping together. He said mildly, “I did not realize that I was an object of amusement, madam.”
Babs smiled at him, her wide green eyes filled with a wicked delight. “You can be such a fool, my love,” she said affectionately. She laughed when he swept her back into his arms.
“I shall exact a fine payment for your impertinence, my lady,” he growled.
Babs would have said something more, but he effectively silenced her. She was left dazed and breathless, a circumstance that the earl regarded with approval.
About the Author
Gayle Buck doesn't ever want to stop writing. "I decided when I was in the fifth grade that I wanted to write stories that would make people laugh and cry. I haven't even scratched the surface yet," she admits with a grin.
A Kansas-bred Texan (and proud of it), Gayle says, "Let's just say that I like independence and survival in my characters and in my life." She has two sons that she is enormously proud of. They are both native-born Texans. "But I'm sure they have a few of those prairie pioneer genes, too."
Gayle has published 26 Regencies, an inspirational and a how-to book. She has some new book ideas; right now, she's not saying much about them. "But I'm going to have a whole lot of fun for the foreseeable future."
Gayle Buck has a degree in journalism and has written for every media known except film. She thinks about it for a minute. "Oh, yeah. That's goin' to change."
Publishing Information
Copyright © 1991 by Gayle Buck Originally published by Signet (ISBN 0451169395) Electronically published in 2009 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
http://www.RegencyReads.com Electronic sales: [email protected] This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
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