Some Like It Wicked (Hellion's Den) (22 page)

Now, however, her treacherous heart could not bear for him to believe she would ever think ill of him.

“You are not vile, Hellion,” she said softly. “Indeed, you are a wonderful gentleman that shall someday make some fortunate woman very happy. Just not . . .”

“Just not wonderful enough for you,” he broke in with bitter tones.

Jane took a step closer, her expression troubled. “Just not until you have accepted that you have no need to depend upon another. Not your uncle. And certainly not me.”

“Depend upon?” If anything his expression only became more remote. “Now you are implying that I am weak?”

A flare of exasperation tightened her lips. “You are willfully misunderstanding me.”

“Then halt this ridiculous babbling and tell me what you mean.”

She bit her lip, not at all certain whether or not to try a sensible conversation when he was in such a foul temper. He appeared remarkably determined to cast her as the villain of this absurd drama. Ridiculous, considering dull, staid spinsters were never the villain.

“Very well,” she at last capitulated. And why not? Hellion would not allow her to rest until he had satisfied himself she had confessed all. Resisting the urge to turn away she forced herself to meet his glittering gaze without flinching. “You are strong and intelligent and quite capable of achieving anything you might set your mind to, but not so long as you allow yourself to drift along the path with the least amount of effort.”

A flare of heat bloomed along the angular line of his cheeks, as if she had managed to strike a vulnerable nerve.

“That is what you believe I am doing in wedding you?”

“Is it not?”

He abruptly averted his gaze. “You seem to have all the answers, not me.”

Gads. Villain, indeed.

“Hellion, if I did not care, it would not matter a wit to me if you might eventually regret the decision to wed me,” she said, unaware that her throbbing voice unwittingly revealed just how much she indeed cared. “I could not bear to have you someday regard me in disgust.”

There was a short silence, as if Hellion was battling within himself. Then, with a slow motion he turned his back to her.

“I could never do that, Jane. Not ever. But you have made it obvious I am a spineless creature who is incapable of earning your respect. I will trouble you no further. I hope you discover your paragon of dullness, my shrew. The two of you shall no doubt live in tedious bliss the rest of your days.”

His cutting insult delivered, Hellion marched to the door and after fumbling with the lock at last managed to snatch it open. He did not bother to even glance over his shoulder as he left the room, closing the door with a sharp bang.

Jane was relieved that he had not looked back.

The dratted tears she had thought were done were once again streaming down her face. Damn, damn, damn.

This was what came from making wicked propositions to handsome rakes.

 

 

Several blocks away the fierce battle that had been waging was coming to a weary halt.

Holding a blood-soaked handkerchief to his wounded nose Biddles held off the vicious hellcat with a reluctant laugh.

My God, but she was glorious, he acknowledged, regarding her sweet features flushed with fury and her eyes lit with a brilliant sparkle. During the brief but delicious struggle her dark hair had tumbled to fall about her shoulders and her gown became disheveled to reveal a glimpse of her ample bosom.

Biddles’s already heated blood nearly came to a boil. There was such passion crackling about her that it was all he could do not to jerk her into his arms and drown her in kisses.

Thankfully he was wise enough to resist temptation.

He would dare any obstacle, including hell itself, to have this woman as his own. He did not intend to risk losing her.

“Enough, my vicious beauty,” he commanded, taking a judicious step away from her ready fists. “You have already broken my nose.”

Far from appalled, Anna offered a superior toss of her head. “I hope that I have. It will perhaps teach you not to stick it in other people’s business.”

“Or to be a bit quicker in dodging a vengeful woman’s wrath,” he drawled. “That is quite a wicked right hook you possess.”

“You hurt my friend,” she charged in return.

With a delicate shudder Biddles tossed aside the bloody handkerchief. “And you broke my nose, not to mention ruining a vexingly expensive coat. I should think we are even.”

His logic did little to impress the furious Anna, who flounced across the overgrown path to seat herself on a bench.

“Fah.”

Fiercely relieved that she had not marched out on him before he could make amends, Biddles covertly edged around the lethal rosebushes to stand before her.

“And of course there is the very real danger that my nose shall heal in a grossly crooked fashion,” he mused in dark tones. “You might very well have ruined my male beauty beyond repair.”

She flashed him a warning glare. “This is not amusing.”

“Oh, I quite agree.” Plucking a rose from a nearby bush he absently tugged off the petals to drop them into her lap. “Without my dazzling male attractions I shall never win the hand of a fair maiden. You might very well have condemned me to a life of lonely bitterness.”

Her lips thinned, although he suspected it was from an effort to disguise her treacherous amusement.

“’Twas my understanding that you preferred the companionship of tarts, in any event.”

He scattered another handful of petals as he slowly knelt at her feet. “But a gentleman must marry eventually.”

Her lips parted in shock at his soft words even as she struggled to hold on to her righteous anger.

“There is no doubt some female desperate enough to settle for a sly, scheming, disreputable . . .” Her damning litany of his faults was brought to a convenient halt as Biddles leaned forward and kissed her. She stiffened, but thankfully for his bruised stomach and aching nose she did not feel the necessity to strike out. Pulling back he watched as an enchanting confusion rippled over her countenance. “Sir, you must not do that.”

“Why?”

“Because . . . because I am quite furious with you.”

He trailed a finger down the length of her arm, savoring the dewy softness of her skin.

“Yes, I know.”

“You had no right to intrude into Jane’s privacy.”

“Just as you had no right to spy upon me or follow me about, sweet Anna,” he pointed out with a faint smile.

She briefly faltered, clearly not having considered her own actions in any way dishonorable. “I was only attempting to protect my friend.”

“As was I.”

She rolled her eyes heavenward, as always refusing to be easily persuaded. It was oddly enough one of her most potent charms.

“As if a gentleman such as Hellion would need protection from poor Jane.”

His smile was self-mocking. “There is no greater danger to a gentleman than an intelligent, cunning, spirited female. They steal a man’s wits and slip into his heart before he realizes he has been well and truly caught.”

“What?” Her shock was palpable in the air. Odd, Biddles acknowledged in bemusement. He would have thought Hellion’s, not to mention his own, tender feelings should have been obvious to all. Such intelligent gentlemen did not behave as per-fecct loobies without love having addled their wits. “You surely do not mean to imply that Mr. Caulfield possesses feelings for Jane?”

“Why do you sound so disbelieving?”

She abruptly rose to her feet, sweeping past him in obvious agitation. “Because.”

Slowly rising he stepped directly behind her stiff form. “That is not precisely an explanation.”

“Oh for goodness sakes, you know perfectly well that Hellion only desired to wed Jane for her wealth.”

“That was certainly the excuse that he used.”

At his soft words she turned to regard him with a frown. “Excuse?”

His lips twitched. He thought men vastly superior to women when it came to denying what was beneath their very noses.

“Pretending to be a fortune hunter is far less risky than confessing his most intimate emotions. Surely you must know that a gentleman will go to the most appalling lengths to protect his fragile pride?”

Anna sputtered in confusion. “But that is absurd. If he loves her then he must tell her so.”

“It would, of course, be the logical thing to do,” he drawled. “Unfortunately logic rarely goes hand in hand with love. Besides which, I fear that Hellion is not yet prepared to admit his feelings. Not even to himself.”

“Then he is bound to lose her,” she ground out in aggravation.

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps?” Her hands landed upon her deliciously rounded hips. “That is all you can say? This is a tragedy.”

His brief interest in Hellion’s muddled heart was seared away as his gaze swept over the woman who had somehow become as necessary as breathing.

Unlike his friend he had no intention of risking his future happiness. Not for pride, not for fear, not for anything.

“What it is, my sweet, is out of our hands,” he murmured, reaching up to lightly stroke her shoulders. “It is up to Hellion and Miss Middleton to resolve their difficulties.”

“Yes, but . . .” Her determination to continue arguing was easily halted as Biddles leaned forward and covered her lips with a brief, possessive kiss. It was not that he did not take great delight in crossing swords with the intelligent minx, it was simply that at the moment he preferred that she have her thoughts utterly concentrated upon him. Reluctantly pulling back he watched her give a bemused blink. “Sir, you really must halt your habit of kissing me whenever you might feel the urge.”

“Why is that?”

Her tongue peeked out to touch her lips in a revealing motion. “It is not at all proper.”

“We could make it proper.” His hands slid down her arms to grasp her hands. “Proper enough for even the highest sticklers.”

He felt her stiffen beneath his touch. “Whatever do you mean?”

Now that the moment had come, Biddles discovered that it was not nearly so difficult as he had once supposed. Indeed, he could not imagine anything being more right.

“If you were my wife I could kiss you whenever I please.”

Her eyes widened as she struggled to disguise her shock. “I . . . I might have something to say about that, sir.”

Biddles chuckled softly, tugging her close enough to feel the heat of her skin.

“You, my love, would have everything to say about it.”

Bewildered and struggling to accept that he had just offered her a proposal, Anna gave a slow shake of her head.

“You truly desire to marry me?” she husked, her gaze searching his face as if seeking to discover if he were playing some sort of cruel hoax. “I am not at all beautiful or wealthy, or even a comfortable sort of female. Indeed, my aunt assures me that I am well on my way to becoming a harridan.”

Biddles felt a flare of irritation that anyone would dare to insult his beloved. Someday soon he would have a lengthy chat with Anna’s relative. She would learn to treat his fiancée with unwavering respect.

“Let us get one thing perfectly clear right from the beginning,” he growled. “You are never again to tell me that you are not beautiful. As far as I am concerned you are the most beautiful, most desirable, most intoxicating woman ever to be born.”

Her lips parted in astonishment. “Oh.”

“And as far as wealth, we shall manage to muddle along in whatever style you desire. I am a very resourceful sort of chap.”

A tentative happiness began to glow in her lovely blue eyes. “And the fact that I am a harridan?”

Biddles abruptly locked his arms about her, not intending to let go any time soon.

“I happen to find it your finest quality.”

Her hands gently touched his chest. “You must be mad.”

“Absolutely,” he readily agreed. “Will you share this madness with me?”

A smile that pierced his very heart curved her lips. “I suppose I must. Who else will keep that prying, crooked nose out of trouble?”

Sweet joy flooded through Biddles. A joy far too precious to put into mere words.

Instead he lowered his head to reveal his feelings in the most intimate manner possible.

From the diary of Miss Jane Middleton, September 15th, 1814:

Hellion was seated in the cramped office above the old coffee shop. Or what had once been the old coffee shop.

Few could recall now that a mere four months before the building had been an abandoned ghost of the past. Especially not the elegant young blades who thronged to the most popular establishment in all of London.

It had taken weeks of unrelenting work and not an inconsiderable amount of money to transform the shabby establishment into an exclusive gambling den.

Hellion’s Den, to be exact.

A flare of pride raced through him as he carefully tallied the considerable profits from the past week.

He knew without undue vanity that much of the success of the club was entirely his doing. Not only because of the endless hours he had devoted to his newfound business, but because it was his scandalous reputation that had lured the gentlemen from their more comfortable establishments.

All desired to be known as companions of the most notorious rake in London.

Oh, there was still much to be accomplished. The gaming rooms were far too cramped even after the kitchens were converted to make room for the faro tables. Soon enough he would be forced to use these private chambers on the second floor for the more elegant subscription rooms.

Which meant he would have to locate apartments for himself since he had moved into the attics after selling his town house to have the funds necessary to refurbish the old building.

Tedious details he would deal with at a later date, he assured himself with a faint smile.

At the moment he had a far greater accomplishment to occupy his thoughts.

Locking the money box, Hellion placed it in the bottom drawer of his desk when the door to the chamber was suddenly pressed open. He lifted his head to watch Biddles enter with a grimace.

“Egads, I feared I would never battle my way through the crush,” he complained, producing a lacy handkerchief to brush at his blinding yellow coat. “It seems Hellion’s Den truly is all the rage.”

Settling back in his chair Hellion steepled his fingers beneath his chin. His eyes were narrowed as his friend approached the desk.

Most would no doubt presume the rat-faced gentleman was here to ensure that his investment was running smoothly, but Hellion did not believe he could be so fortunate. Although Biddles had been invaluable in creating Hellion’s Den he rarely could be seen without his devoted wife at his side, even here. Not unless he had been commanded by Anna to try and convince Hellion once again of the error of his ways.

“Yes, so it would seem,” he drawled.

Pretending not to notice Hellion’s dry tone Biddles offered a faint sniff. “Although not everyone is pleased with our success, I must confess. The madam next door tossed a chamber pot out the window when I passed by.”

“Are you certain she was not merely offended by that ghastly coat?”

“Ghastly?” Biddles conjured a wounded expression. “I will have you know that this particular shade of yellow is the very height of fashion.”

“I cannot imagine where it would be the height of fashion, unless you refer to the savages that run rampant through the colonies?”

“Philistine.” Biddles held up the small basket he had hidden behind his back. “I have every notion to leave without offering you the treat I have brought with me.”

“What treat?”

Setting the basket on the desk Biddles peered within. “Roasted pheasant, potatoes in cream with fresh mushrooms, cheese, warm bread, and grapes.”

“Quite a feast.”

“And one you will consume before I leave this room,” Biddles commanded, clearly not missing Hellion’s faint grimace as the rich smells filled the small room.

Hellion heaved a resigned sigh. The Lord save him from meddling friends.

“Bloody hell, Biddles, you are not my mother. I do not need you fussing over me.”

“And I have no desire to fuss over you, my aggravating friend,” the elegant gentleman mocked. “Unfortunately Anna is quite convinced you are in the throes of a horrid decline and I will have no peace until you recover your spirits.”

Hellion groaned. If a meddling friend was annoying, a meddling female was an out-and-out curse. God knew the kindly but stubborn Anna would not leave him in peace until he was married or driven to Bedlam.

It would never occur to her that he could manage either quite well enough on his own.

“There is nothing the matter with my spirits.”

“Nothing beyond the fact that you are obviously fagged to death, you have lost weight, and I have not seen you step foot outside this damnable building since you purchased it.”

Hellion shrugged. “Hardly a source of astonishment. I have discovered it is rather tiresome to create a successful business.”

“And that is all there is to it?”

With a smooth motion Hellion rose to his feet, his expression tight with displeasure.

“Biddles.”

The tiny man gave a flutter of his handkerchief. “Glare at me all you desire, I will hold my tongue no longer. Whether you will admit the truth or not you are pining for Miss Middleton.”

In spite of himself Hellion could not halt his lips from twitching with reluctant amusement.

“Pining? Are you not being rather melodramatic?”

“Do you deny it?”

“You intrude in matters that do not concern you.”

“It would not be the first occasion, as we both know.”

This time he laughed out loud. Had there ever been a greater understatement? That pointed nose had been stuck into more people’s business than anyone would ever know.

“True enough.”

Allowing his frivolous manner to disappear Biddles regarded his companion with a hard stare.

“For God’s sake, Hellion, just go to the woman and confess that you love her.”

Hellion did not even flinch. He had long past accepted his feelings for Jane. Ridiculous considering that had he been wise enough to search his heart when he should have then he could have avoided the misery of the past months.

Still, in some ways he accepted that he had earned his suffering.

Jane had been absolutely correct to accuse him of fearing to stand upon his own. For too long he had allowed his uncle’s bitter accusations to rule his life.

He was a hellion tainted by the blood of his feckless parents. He was doomed to bring nothing but shame to his family. He could offer nothing but scandal and betrayal to those he loved.

It was not until he had truly stood upon his own feet that he had at last banished the wounds that had never fully healed.

He might very well be a hellion, but he had far more to offer than mere scandal.

A wondrous realization, but one that might very well have come too late.

“It is not quite so simple,” he admitted with a sigh.

Biddles gave a lift of his brows. “Actually I have discovered much to my surprise that it is precisely that simple.”

“Not with Jane.” A pain wrenched through his heart at the mere mention of her name. “From the beginning I attempted to command and bully and manipulate her. I claimed to admire her independent spirit even as I sought to seduce her to my will.”

There was a short pause as his friend closely scrutinized his grimly set features.

“So you believe it more noble to condemn her to a life with a gentleman who could never possibly love her as you do?”

Hellion resisted the urge to lash out. Biddles was only concerned for him. And it certainly was not the poor gentleman’s fault that Hellion had managed to make such a hash of things.

“I believe it more noble to give her the freedom to decide if she wishes to hear my words of love.”

Biddles made a sound that adequately revealed his disgust at such a chivalrous gesture.

“She can hardly make such a decision while she is in Surrey. Since you have forbidden Anna to reveal our little enterprise she might very well presume that you are currently seeking your fortune with another heiress.”

Just for a moment Hellion struggled to breathe. It was a risk he was vibrantly aware of. In truth, the fear that she might have already condemned him to the netherworld in favor of a dull, tediously loyal farmer made him break out in a sweat during the dark hours of the night.

It was only by recalling her fragile features and eyes darkened with pain during their last encounter that kept him from rushing to Surrey and simply tossing her over his shoulder.

Thus far he had done everything wrong that could be done wrong in dealing with Miss Jane Middleton.

For once he was determined to do matters right.

Clearing his throat Hellion sent his friend a rueful smile.

“Actually I possess high hopes she will soon be returning to London.”

“Are you daft?” Biddles demanded. “I should think she would sooner toss herself from the nearest cliff. Her previous visit could hardly have inspired a love for the city.”

“We shall see,” Hellion murmured.

Biddles abruptly paused, his gaze narrowing as he watched Hellion absently straighten the candlestick upon the desk.

“I recognize that expression. What are you plotting, Hellion?”

Well aware the cunning little ferret would sniff out the truth within moments if he did not take care, Hellion deliberately settled his features into a stark warning.

“Nothing nefarious on this occasion,” he retorted. “I have merely offered Jane an opportunity to reveal if she has washed her hands of me for good or if she still cares. We shall discover the truth of the matter within a few days.”

The pointed nose twitched with pained curiosity, but for once in his life Biddles seemed to realize that his interference would not be tolerated.

“I wish you luck, my friend,” he at last conceded to the inevitable.

“Thank you.” Hellion smiled wryly. “When it comes to Miss Middleton I shall need all the luck I can muster.”

 

 

The hotel was one of the finest in London.

Well situated in a quiet neighborhood it catered to those wealthy patrons who preferred a peaceful elegance during their brief stay in the city.

Not that Jane particularly cared that her chambers were furnished with highly polished mahogany, or that the servants had been trained to meet her needs without so much as stirring the air.

She was in London only for one purpose.

To confront Hellion and discover why he had returned the five thousand pounds she had paid to him.

Pacing across the floral-patterned carpet, Jane absentmindedly shredded the handkerchief in her fingers.

She had been utterly shocked when the servant had arrived at her home in Surrey. She had not expected Hellion to attempt to contact her. Not after their less-than-harmonious parting. And she most certainly had not expected to be handed a package containing the small fortune.

Why would he do such a thing? Anger? Pride? A need to banish her utterly from his life?

Whatever the cause Jane had discovered herself consumed with a fierce, unexplainable fury.

Was it not enough that he could not return her love as she desired? Or that he remained so sharply seared into her heart that she could not even imagine wedding another? Or that she felt so alone she physically ached?

Did he also need toss away her one gift as if it were utterly meaningless?

It was unbearable, she had decided. And so, refusing to give herself the opportunity to consider her actions, she had hastily packed her bags and taken off for the city.

She wanted to see Hellion. To hear from his lips his explanation.

Arriving at the hotel the previous evening she had immediately sent a note to Hellion’s town house. Somehow she had expected a response by the time she had awakened this morning. Not that she was vain enough to suppose he would rush to her side in a flurry of anticipation. Hellion would never be so gauche. But surely he would be at least mildly curious at her sudden arrival?

The day had passed, however, with not the slightest indication that Hellion had received her message and a new fear had bloomed within Jane’s heart.

What if he ignored her missive? What if he decided that she was not worth the effort of meeting?

Her heart clutched at the mere thought. No. Dear God, no. She had endured so much over the past months. She could not bear to discover that Hellion would deliberately cut her.

The day passed with a ghastly silence and she had worked herself into such a state of nerves that when the knock at last fell upon her door she nearly leaped from her skin.

“At last,” she gritted, tripping over the hem of her plain gown in her haste to pull open the door. “I had begun to think . . . oh.” Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at the uniformed servant who stood in the hallway. “What is it?”