Patricia Potter (44 page)

If only he’d had a few more runs. If only ships could fly, he thought irreverently.

Rhys Redding had refused his offer of nearly a million pounds. The bloody bastard wanted a quarter again of that. After the cost of a new ship, the amount needed represented at least four runs, probably more like six. Redding did, however, promise not to sell to anyone else, and that was a great relief. Adrian trusted the man to keep his promise, though he wasn’t exactly sure why.

Rain started spilling from the sky, and Adrian thought of another rain on a continent across the sea. Suddenly all the good the walk had done was gone.

The ache was back worse than ever.

The awaited card finally came two days later. Rhys Redding left it, asking whether he might call on Miss Lauren Bradley.

Lauren sent a note saying she would be delighted.

Lisa obviously disapproved, though she said nothing. Her guest was a grown woman, an American who had traveled by herself. Americans, it was well known, did not have the same … well, traditions … as the British. But Lisa’s brows knitted together worriedly when Lauren informed her of her plan to go riding with Mr. Redding.

“Do you think you should, dear? Adrian …”

“Adrian,” Lauren said, trying to disguise the hurt in her voice, “is too busy with his ship to concern himself.” She had just heard from Sir Giles that Adrian had indeed opened negotiations for the new blockade runner. If she were to do anything at all, it must be soon.

“He’s very fond of you, my dear.”

Fond—what an altogether terrible word! But Lauren merely smiled at Lisa Tatterly, and went to change into her green muslin dress that brought out the green in her eyes.

Rhys Redding was very prompt. And Lauren knew if her heart weren’t completely held by someone else, Mr. Redding could possibly pose a threat to it. He was dressed today in tight tan trousers, an almost cream waistcoat, and dark brown frock coat, all of which emphasized the darkness of his hair and the eyes that gleamed like freshly polished onyx.

He was the opposite from Adrian in coloring and, she thought, temperament. Adrian, although a private man who often kept thoughts to himself, was easy to be with. He was like the sun to her, the giver of life and warmth. Rhys Redding, with a sardonic curl to his lip and a kind of mocking amusement dancing in his eyes, was more like the night.

Yet Lauren felt no fear of him. She thought of her father’s words again, that Larry was like the sunrise and she like twilight. Perhaps that was why she was so strangely comfortable with both the sun and the night.

But it was the sun she wanted.

The preliminaries were awkward. Lisa could not hide her disapproval, and Rhys met it with exaggerated courtesy. When he and Lauren were outside, and he’d handed her into what was a very gaudy carriage, he grinned at her. “You know, of course, that I’m not an
acceptable
escort?”

He looked so devilishly happy about it that she couldn’t help but smile back. “So I’ve been informed.”

“And Ridgely?”

“The lord or the estate?”

“The lord.”

Lauren looked at him as he snapped the reins on two very fine horses. She really didn’t want to think about Adrian’s reaction, or even whether he would have a reaction. Instead, she turned her thoughts to the vehicle in which they were riding, wondering about the bad taste of the carriage compared to her companion’s excellent taste in clothes and horses.

“I like it,” Rhys said suddenly.

Lauren couldn’t help but look startled.

“The carriage,” he explained. “You’re wondering about the carriage. I saw one like it when I was a boy and thought it the most marvelous thing in the world. When I saw this one, I remembered a boy’s dream and had to have it.”

“And where was that?”

“A small village in Wales,” he replied. “But you are avoiding my question. What would Lord Ridgely think of your ride with me?”

“I don’t know whether he would think anything about it.”

“Ah, Miss Bradley, I think you’re wrong there. I saw his face when I was dancing with you. He didn’t like it at all.”

Lauren bit her lip.

“And I saw your face. I wonder why you are with me now.”

“I want something from you.”

He stared at her, then burst out laughing. “I’ve been told American women are different. I think you are the only young lady who has ever admitted she wanted something. First.”

The “first” had an ominous ring to it.

“Are you going to tell me what it is, or do I have to guess?” Rhys Redding’s voice was softly amused, but there was a note of warning in it.

Lauren had not planned the conversation this way at all. She had wanted to learn more about him first, to gauge how best to persuade him to sell.

“Then I’ll have to guess,” he said reflectively. “A matter of an estate, I believe. And since I don’t think Lord Ridgely would send you on his behalf, you must have a proposal of your own.”

Lauren could only stare at him, like a rabbit about to be swallowed by a wolf.

“Why, Miss Bradley?” he continued, his voice suddenly hard. “Do you want to be the lady of Ridgely?” The hardness carried a trace of contempt now. “It’s not all it’s reputed to be. Damnable nuisance.”

“Then why don’t you sell it?” she retorted.

“The simple matter of a bad bargain. I don’t make bad bargains.”

“What would you consider a good bargain?” The words left Lauren’s lips before she thought them through.

His eyes moved away from the horses and traveled up and down her slowly, suggestively. “How do you plan to sweeten the offer?”

Lauren swallowed, realizing she had once more leaped into something before considering all the consequences. During her brief meeting with Redding at Lady Caroline’s party, she had thought he might be a gentleman in behavior if not by birth. She knew now he was not. Words alone would never persuade him.

How
did
she plan to sweeten the offer?

Lauren thought of the way Adrian looked every time he talked of Ridgely. She thought of his face when his hands were being tied on the
Specter
, knowing he had lost everything. She remembered his look as he had left the game room the other night after talking with Redding.

She had an overwhelming premonition that if Adrian did go back to blockade running, something terrible would happen. And he
would
go back … within weeks. The whole Yankee fleet would be waiting for him, and it would be her fault. She knew from conversation that Union agents in London were fully aware Adrian was here, knew that he was trying to refit a new ship. There would be a cordon waiting for him, both here and along the Carolina coast.

She wasn’t important, not anymore. She had lied and cheated and betrayed. But she had one weapon left, one weapon she could use in Adrian’s behalf.

“I
do
have a proposal,” she said finally.

CHAPTER 25

An arched eyebrow invited her to continue.

Lauren took a deep breath. She had thought about this, but she didn’t know now if she could go through with it.

She had to!

It was the only way she could ever be free.

“You said I was a gambler, that we both were gamblers,” she finally said.

His dark eyes glinted. “And that we might have something to offer each other. Do we, Miss Bradley?”

Lauren hesitated one more time.

“A game of chance,” she said finally.

“So you
are
a gamester,” he said with satisfaction. “Now what do you offer as stakes?”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching. “You said Adrian’s estate was a nuisance. Why did you want Ridgely?”

There was a long silence. “It was offered,” he finally said.

“But there’s more,” she charged, wanting, needing, more time. “You wanted more than you got.”

“Are Americans fortune-tellers too?” Rhys snapped the reins on the horses, increasing the pace.

She laughed, but there was only wistfulness in the sound, not amusement. “I’m learning that sometimes when you win, you lose.”

“And what did you win, Miss Bradley? And lose?”

They passed a couple in a phaeton as they entered Hyde Park, and Lauren remembered the faces—but not the names—from Lady Caroline’s party. Their expressions were openly curious as Rhys touched his hat in recognition. Even in that seemingly polite gesture, there was mockery.

“They are wondering what you are doing with a scoundrel like me,” Rhys remarked dryly.

“But I am an American,” she said, “and apparently expected to do outrageous things.”

“Not if you plan to stay among the ton, to be the wife of a lord—even a landless one,” he replied, a half smile on his lips.

“I don’t.”

The words were said with such absolute finality that Rhys looked at her again. “Because he is landless? He won’t be for long. He’s quite wealthy, though not wealthy enough to purchase Ridgely. Not yet. But I suspect he will be. A very determined man, Adrian Cabot, Lord Ridgely.” The last was said with something approaching a sneer.

Lauren stared at him. She had once thought Adrian cynical, but Rhys Redding was the embodiment of the word.

“No,” she said simply.

“No, what?”

“That’s not why I would not marry him, even if he did ask, which he won’t.”

“Was I wrong about those feelings the other night?”

Lauren was not going to lie any longer. “No,” she said. “Not about mine.”

“Nor,” he said, “about his. And, forgive me for being dull, but why do you care about Ridgely’s lands if you have no intention of marrying him?”

“Is that the only reason I should care?”

“It’s the only reason most women would care.”

“Do you think so badly of women then?”

“I think badly of everyone,” he corrected with a smile.

Lauren’s hands clenched in her lap. This was so much harder than she had expected. He obviously didn’t care about the properties himself, and she had thought … She didn’t know what she thought.

“Why?”

“Why do I think badly of everyone? I suppose because I’ve never had reason to do otherwise. I prey on weaknesses, Miss Bradley. I know them all.”

“And you, do you have any?”

“Of course.”

“What are they?”

“So you can prey on mine?”

Lauren had to smile. “I don’t think you’d ever allow that.”

“I might make an exception … you never did say why you are so interested in the Ridgely lands.”

“It’s not important.”

“Oh, but it is. You interest me, Miss Bradley. You give every indication of … shall we say … caring about Lord Ridgely, yet you say you have no hope nor intention of marrying our good viscount. And you are here with me. As much as I would like to attribute such a delight to my charm, I’m not such an arrogant fool. I always like to know exactly what game I’m playing.”

Lauren swallowed. She could delay no longer. “Is there any way I can convince you to sell Ridgely? Now.”

Rhys’s dark eyes grew even darker as he turned his harsh face toward her. “You mentioned a game of chance earlier. Exactly what are you prepared to wager?”

“I don’t have much money. I do have a cottage in the United States.”

“And what would I do with a cottage in the United States?” he replied.

“You could sell it.”

“And how much is it worth?”

Lauren shook her head. “I don’t know exactly. But you’re a gambler,” she challenged.

“But like any good gambler, I want to see the stakes. What else?” The question was merciless.

Lauren couldn’t say “myself.” There was no way she could speak the words. But she knew that was the only thing she had left. He probably wouldn’t even want her. She was certainly no beauty, not like many of the women she had seen at Lady Caroline’s.

“Yourself?”

Rhys had stolen her thought, her forbidden thought. She swallowed hard. Something in her died at the image of someone other than Adrian touching her. She wondered if the thought was reflected on her face, for she saw his face tighten, even grow cruel.

“Yes,” she said suddenly, defiantly. Nothing mattered but Adrian now.

“You would agree to become my mistress … for as long as I require.”

Require.
Not
like.
Nothing tender. A pure business arrangement.

But she could win. She had to win. She’d won often with Adrian, and he’d said she had a real talent for cards. Talent and luck.

Adrian.
I took Ridgely away from you.
He would have had it by now, had it not been for her. It had been two months since his capture, which amounted to at least three runs for him, more than enough to meet Redding’s price. She knew the economics well enough now.

“If I win, you’ll sell Ridgely to Adrian?”