Revenge Wears Rubies (36 page)

Chapter
23

Galen searched the room, nervously looking for any sign of Haley. Lord Kendall’s card party was a dull affair, but Galen wouldn’t have missed it for the world. So far, the social invitations and events on the family’s calendar had yet to change, and he’d been able to plan his own evenings accordingly.

He deferred another invitation to sit at one of the tables and continued his surveillance, circling the rooms with all the various games and equally varied players. The wealth changing hands was something that wouldn’t have arrested his attention years ago, but Galen had a new awareness of each coin’s meaning.
It all goes so quickly. I could gamble until I’d won a thousand fortunes, and I would still feel like a pauper. Perhaps I should tell her that. That she’s robbed me of my heart, and that I’ll happily spend every penny I have on her happiness to ransom it back—

“Mr. Hawke!”

Galen turned in surprise at Lord Moreland’s friendly hail, disappointed that he seemed to be alone. But the man looked much more robust than he had at their last meeting, his face a healthier color, and his cheeks had filled out slightly. “Lord Moreland, what a pleasure to see you again.”

“A pleasure to be seen, I can say with all honesty. Though I’m not one for the tables.” He eyed a game of casino longingly, but then turned back to Galen with a sober expression. “Are you a gambling man?”

“Only when society requires it, Lord Moreland.” Galen took a deep breath and decided to take a direct strategy. “May I speak to you for a few minutes?”

“Yes, yes of course.” The men stepped away from the tables and retreated to a conversational area near the windows. “Here, let’s take our rest here and you may tell me what is on your mind.”

“Thank you, your lordship.”

“Though I warn you, from the way your notes seem to be flying back unopened out of the doors of my house, I am at a loss.” Lord Moreland chose one end of the settee and gave Galen a searching look. “You seem like a perfectly reasonable choice to me, so if you’ve come to ask why my daughter seems to have taken leave of her senses, I pray you’ll attempt another topic.”

“I had a slightly different topic in mind.” Galen was determined to see the ghost of his past addressed and set aside, once and for all.

“Thank God!” Lord Moreland leaned back in relief. “Then, let’s have it.”

“I was hoping you would tell me more about John Everly.”

Lord Moreland’s face betrayed his surprise, but he obliged Galen all the same. “The Everlys were our close neighbors years ago, when they resided for a short while at Frostbrook Manor. The family was extremely respectable, and Carlton Everly used to hunt with permission on our lands. I liked him a great deal, but his wife was a quiet, sickly woman. I don’t really remember much of her, at all. Though my dear wife did deliver more than one basket of whatnots to cheer her when she could. My darling, Margaret, was forever thinking of others!”

“And John?”

“He and his brother used to come over and tease Haley to tears.” He smiled at the memory. “But they became fast friends eventually, running wild through the countryside and getting into every manner of mischief. John even protected her from a local bully, according to Haley, and I marvel that he’d turned out so well—in light of their beginnings.”

“But they came to love each other?”

Lord Moreland raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Love? Did I give you that impression?”

Galen’s world ground to a halt. “You did.”

“It was a jest, I’m sure. After all, they were far too young to do more than bounce about the village like puppies. We laughed when she came home with a ribbon tied around her wrist and said that they’d become engaged! It was a simple childish game, but sweet enough.”

Galen’s stomach clenched around a growing shard of ice. “How old was she?”

“Twelve? No, thirteen! For that was the year I bought Margaret thirteen bonnets to celebrate each year of our precious daughter’s health and happiness.” Lord Moreland’s eyes had yet to shed their faraway sheen as memories of times gone by held him captive. “Then they moved off as Mr. Everly’s business required him more in Town, I believe, and I don’t think I could say much more of them—except I bought Carlton’s stable out on a whim! Everly had a good eye for horseflesh, but no need for so many in Town. Too much expense, he said.” He seemed to remember Galen’s presence. “Was that helpful?”

“Yes, thank you.” His tongue felt as if it were coated with sand.

“We recently heard of John’s death abroad.” He shook his head sadly. “Are the Everlys acquaintances of yours, Mr. Hawke?”

“John Everly was a dear friend, Lord Moreland. He spoke of Miss Moreland with great affection.”

“Oh! I’m grieved but comforted to hear it. I’d lost touch with them entirely over the years and always wondered if they remembered their neighbors. I’ll have to see if I can find Carlton and send him a belated note of condolence.”

“His parents reside in Chesterfield. I’ll send you the address.”

“Thank you.” He shifted in his chair. “May I ask you, Mr. Hawke, what trespass have you committed that has my daughter so set against you?”

Self-loathing almost made him confess all, for the sheer pleasure of letting Lord Moreland kill him, but he thought better of it. “I’ve committed too many trespasses to name, your lordship, but I can only hope the lady’s memory will prove forgiving.”

Lord Moreland gave him a rueful laugh and stood to end their conference. “Haley forgets nothing, but I’ve never known a girl with a greater heart, so I’ll just wish you luck, young man.”

“Thank you, Lord Moreland. I’ll need all the luck I can muster.”

Galen started to make his way back to the main room and walked directly into the path of a jovial, red-faced Herbert Trumble. “Mr. Hawke! Now I know I am in the best of company!” Herbert had his hand in a vigorous shake before Galen could think of an escape. “Though I’m not one to gamble, sir! Make no mistake, if I lose any money it will be because I’ve not repaired a hole in my pockets and not for a silly game.”

Galen did his best to keep his countenance unruffled, as other guests at the nearby tables began to look up in amusement at the odd tableau they presented, with Herbert still pumping his arm wildly and blathering on about the evils of gambling as if ignorant of his own presence in the middle of a card party. “You’re a wiser man than most, Mr. Trumble, but I must beg the return of my hand.”

“Oh, dear!” Herbert let go immediately. “What a dreadful habit! And even worse, I’m forgetting my manners when it comes to introductions.” He glanced back and summoned the woman who had been waiting a few paces behind him with a gesture. “You must meet the incomparable angel who has graced me with her company! Darling, this is Mr. Galen Hawke, a good friend of mine who has been very generous to me during my stay in London.”

Galen hoped the shock didn’t show on his face as it was clear that Herbert Trumble had bounced back from his disappointment with amazing speed and versatility. “Miss Langston, a pleasure. I recognize you from the theatre, of course.”

“Herbert has been so sweet to introduce me to all his friends, and I am happy to make your acquaintance, sir.” She held out her hand, and he took it briefly, bowing over it without kissing it.

Herbert beamed, drawing his “angel” next to his side, but then looked embarrassed as he recalled Galen. “Oh, dear . . . this may look inappropriate . . . if you hadn’t heard . . .”

Galen swallowed and was sure he could taste crow. “I’d heard.”

“Ah! But not the latest happy news!” Herbert said. “I want you to be one of the first to know that for some miraculous reason, Miss Beatrice Langston has agreed to become my wife and we’re to be wed at the end of this month!”

“Herbert, please! You are too sweet!”

Galen eyed the beautiful actress towering three inches over her beloved’s balding head, and would have consigned her to a dismissive and damning judgment of character, but in his next breath, he noticed something miraculous after all.

She was blushing, and not an overly pretty practiced blush, but the truly natural blush of a woman as the color crept up from her breasts and even altered the tint of her ears. She was holding his arm with
both
hands. And the most telling thing of all, she hadn’t really taken her eyes off of Trumble the entire time.

“Congratulations, Mr. Trumble,” Galen said, and meant it.
I suppose it’s fitting that at least one man in the room finds a little happiness where he can.

“Thank you, Hawke! Is she not a treasure?”

“She is. She is that, and more.” His throat threatened to close, and he grimly held onto his composure. “If you’ll excuse me.”

He stepped away with a polite nod to the lady and made his way more purposefully toward the other room with every intention of leaving immediately. He’d had enough for one night. He’d received enough revelations and painful blows to fell a giant, in his opinion. He needed to retreat and regroup, sorting through the fact and fiction of the life he’d made for himself in the last few weeks, so that he could come to Haley with more than just apologies.

And then, as if the very thought of her magically summoned her, Galen saw her at one of the small tables at the far end of the room.

As beautiful as a cameo, Haley’s profile was comprised of graceful and wistful lines, and Galen’s chest ached to see her. She looked paler, and thinner, but there was nothing that could have dulled the luster of her skin and hair in the lamplight; nothing to dampen the quick fire that the sight of her invoked inside of him. Her shoulders were bared by the evening style of dress she wore, and his breath caught as he realized that the ribbon in her hair trailed the column of her neck and down her elegant back where his hands had once freely explored.

I could walk up and force her to speak to me. She wouldn’t dare to snub me in public—I could
. . .

The idea died quickly. Galen wasn’t going to force Miss Haley Moreland to do anything for the rest of his days. And confronting her in public would only add to his woes. It wouldn’t be a conversation. It would be a farce that would hurt her no matter how it turned out, and she would hardly thank him later.
Even if I honestly believed I was in any position to prostrate myself at a card party and bare my soul with Herbert Trumble ten yards off—I’d be ready for Bedlam.

Galen gathered up what he could of his dignity and allowed reason to overrule passion just this once. He knew he would speak to her and make his case. But it would have to be another time and another place.

And then if she didn’t kill him, he would just take it as a hopeful sign.