Chapter Twenty

Cupid has struck him.

—Anonymous,Memoirs of a Mistress

Gavin wasn’t sure how to read Christabel’s mood. Ever since they’d left Bath this morning, she’d been staring out that bloody window as if the answer to her troubles lay in the softly carpeted hills and autumn-hued trees they hurtled past.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have brought her to meet his mother. But now that it was done, he couldn’t regret it. Unless it was Mother’s tale that haunted her. How muchhad his mother told her about those dark, early years?

“What’s wrong, lass? Why so quiet?”

“I’m thinking about what will happen when we return to Lord Stokely’s.”

He relaxed. Now,that he understood. “You’re worried about the eliminations, I suppose.”

Her gaze shot to him. “I wasn’t. Should I be?”

“It depends on who’s left to play.”

“You and I will be partners from now on, won’t we?”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv He cast her an indulgent smile. “Of course, my sweet. Tonight Stokely will gather everyone who has the money to stay in the game. When he asks us to choose our partners, we’ll choose each other, simple as that. From then on, it will be the two of us, for better or worse.”

“Until death do us part,” Christabel said dryly. Before he could react to that astonishing comment, she asked, “Is that why you never partnered with any of your mistresses? Because even that bespoke a more permanent connection than you wished to have?”

“I never partnered with any of my mistresses, darling, because Stokely’s a better player than any of them.”

“Including me,” she said with a frown.

“Untilyou,” he corrected her.

She snorted. “If I didn’t have to play to stay—and if you hadn’t made that wager with Lord Stokely—I would quit right now. Because I know I can’t play well enough to beat everybody who’s left.”

“Nonsense. When you put your mind to it, you’re as good as any of them. The only one who might pose a problem is Eleanor, because she tends to rouse your temper. But perhaps fortune will be with us and her injury will take her out of the game entirely.

“As for the others, Lady Hungate plays better than you, but she lacks your aggression. And when you play Lady Kingsley, remember that she tends to save her trumps. That should help you best her.If you pay attention. Which I begin to think might be a problem.”

“It won’t. By tonight, I’ll be ready to focus on the game.” She dragged in a heavy breath. “But first, there’s something important I must discuss with you.”

“Oh?” He eyed her warily. After last night, he had no idea what to expect. Especially after her comment about “until death do us part.” Was that what she wanted from him? Marriage? Did hewant her to want it?

That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? He began to think he wanted far more from her than a short affair. Or even a long affair. She made him yearn, and that scared the hell out of him. He’d taught himself long ago not to yearn for anything he wasn’t absolutely sure he could have.

“Let’s put our cards on the table, Gavin,” she said. “So to speak.”

His pulse began to race. “Why not?”

“If you could gain the letters right now, what would you do with them?”

He blinked. The letters. She was talking about the bloody letters. “What do you mean?”

“We both know you want them for yourself. If you had them—if I could give them to you—what would you do with them?”

“It would depend on what’s in them.”

“Suppose I said it was something that could damage His Highness.”

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“Create a scandal, you mean?” When she didn’t answer, he debated whether to tell her the truth. But after last night, surely she’d understand and sympathize with his aims. “I’d use them as leverage to force him to make a public apology to my mother, among other things. To declare that she wasn’t the liar and the whore he painted her, but the true mother of one of his by-blows.”

“You know it’s highly unlikely that he would ever agree to that,” she pointed out. “His reputation is soiled enough right now; it would damage him too much before the people to be painted as a liar and a cheat.”

“Which he is.”

“Yes,” she admitted with a sigh. “What you want isn’t unreasonable. And perhaps he might grant it if you can obtain the letters.” She stared at him. “I’ve decided to tell you what’s in them.”

Thathe had not expected. He gazed at her with suspicion. “Why now?”

“Because I’m hoping that once you understand their importance, you’ll treat them with the proper care. Perhaps you’ll even show some mercy toward your father, despite his many sins.”

He wasn’t about to tell her that she was wasting her breath, not when he was this close to hearing the truth.

She swallowed. “I’m praying that any man who cares as much for his mother as you obviously do could never harm another mother who sacrificed for the good of her child.”

His eyes narrowed. “What other mother?”

She squared her shoulders, clearly gathering her strength. “Maria Fitzherbert. Whom some still consider to be Prinny’s lawful wife.”

“Mrs. Fitzherbert has no—” He broke off, his blood thundering in his veins. “She has a child?”

“A son. In Gibraltar. Where my father took him twenty-odd years ago, along with a soldier and his wife who took him in. The letters are from Mrs. Fitzherbert to my father, discussing their plans for…er…removing the child from England and having him become known as the soldier’s son.”

The ramifications of her words shook him with the force of a tempestuous sea. “Bloody, bloody hell. Prinny has ason by Mrs. Fitzherbert. You know what that means.”

“Of course. Why do you think they had him whisked out of the country and hidden all these years?”

“If the child is really his by Mrs. Fitzherbert, the succession would be in danger.” He leaned forward, hardly able to contain his excitement. “This is no by-blow of a mistress. The Catholic Churchstill considers their marriage valid, which means plenty of people would consider the boy a legitimate heir to the throne. And neither George III nor Parliament would let the crown pass to Prinny when Prinny’s own heir is in question.”

She nodded. “Exactly. That’s why His Highness is so desperate to regain the letters. Because if they’re published now, it would put an end to any hope that he’d ever be king.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv

“My God,” he crowed, “I’d hoped for leverage to force him to admit the truth, but this is far better! A way to rid the country of the bastard once and for all!”

She’d gone white as ash. “Gavin, listen to me. I don’t blame you for hating him, but surely even you can see why these letters mustnever be published. You have to think of more than yourself in this.”

“Why?” he snapped. “That arse has never thought of anyone buthimself . The country would be better off without him: He’s a bloated, self-serving cancer eating away at the good name and reputation of England. Plenty of people would thank me for making it impossible for him to succeed to the throne.”

“But others, like the Tories, would champion him. It would embroil England in chaos for years, Gavin. Years . The dispute over Charles II’s succession went on for over fifty years and caused the Glorious Revolution, not to mention the Jacobite rebellion a mere sixty years ago. Why do you think Mrs. Fitzherbert agreed to send her son away? Because she didn’t want him at the center of such a storm. Because she loved him too much to put that burden upon him.”

“No, she did it because Prinny forced her to. Because she let that arse pull the wool over her eyes.”

He’d be damned if he’d accept her comparing Maria Fitzherbert’s sacrifice to his mother’s. “And once again, Prinny gets what he wants. But don’t you understand? This is the chance to rid England of him. To make him suffer—”

“For what he did to you and your mother.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Gavin, all you want is vengeance. But wreaking your vengeance would split the country apart.”

“You’re wrong. They’d simply put Prinny’s brother Frederick on the throne, and that would be that.”

“Even if you’re right, and I’m certainly not willing to take that chance, have you even stopped to think what it would do toyou if you take on the Prince of Wales? You’ll be denounced as the man who brought scandal upon the crown for his own purposes—”

“What do I care about that? Nothing they say could be any worse than what’s been said of me before.”

“Yes, but you have a measure of success and respectability now. Will your mother, who takes such pride in how far you’ve come, enjoy watching you be vilified in the press?”

That gave him pause. “She’ll understand,” he said through gritted teeth. “She’ll cheer me.”

“Will she? All the nasty things they said about her will be amplified tenfold. The press will surely find her, too.”

“At least she’d finally get justice.”

A look of sheer desperation swept over her face. “And what about me? And my father?”

“What do you mean?” he said hoarsely.

“I told you before—if the letters are published, Papa could lose his commission. And if he’s arrested for treason—”

“He wouldn’t be arrested, damn it. Even the Whigs who despise Prinny wouldn’t attack a war hero for loyalty to the crown.”

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“Interfering with the line of succession is a treasonous offense, punishable by hanging.” She swallowed.

“You don’t think Prinny would pursue that? And succeed? He might lose his chance to be king, but he’d still be a prince with influence. Papa had been instructed to burn the letters, but he didn’t. So His Highness would have him punished one way or another.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And me, for telling Philip about them in the first place.”

Gavin ruthlessly ignored the instant punch to his gut that her words delivered. “He couldn’t touchyou, my darling. I wouldn’t let him.” He leaned forward to seize her hands. They were so cold they were like icy fingers of fear squeezing his heart. “As for your father, I wouldn’t let anything happen to him, I swear it. I’m not without influence myself. Between me and my brothers—”

“Brothers?”

Damn. He hadn’t meant to reveal that.

“I know about Lord Draker but—” She broke off, awareness dawning in her face. “Lord Iversley is one of the prince’s by-blows, too, isn’t he? I did wonder at the closeness between the three of you.”

“Yes, and Iversley is an earl, which counts for something. Between the three of us, we can protect your father, and I know I can protect you. I have plenty enough wealth to take care of youand your father. I can’t believe the general would lose his commission, after all his service to his country, but if he did, he could live on my estate. As could you.”

She dropped her gaze from his. “I’m sure Papa would be delighted to live with his daughter and her lover.”

“And if I were your husband? What then?”

He hadn’t meant to say the words, but now that he had, he let them stand. Christabel as his wife. The possibility that he’d sneered at only a couple of weeks ago, had come to seem like a dream. If they married, none of this could touch them—they’d have each other. And then who cared what anyone said? Her face was shadowed with disappointment, and her hands trembled in his. “You are so desperate for those letters that you would make this patently spurious offer?”

“No!” He refused to release her hands when she tried to draw them from his. “It’s not a spurious offer, and it’s certainly not intended to get me the letters. Why not marry me? We could make a good marriage, you and I.”

She lifted a haunted gaze to him. “You and I and your current mistress.”

“No.” He dragged in a weighted breath, hardly able to believe what he was about to say. “I’d be faithful to you.” When she looked skeptical, he added fiercely, “I’d be faithful, I swear it.”

“And to gain this position as your wife, I need only stand by and watch as you betray my country, sentence my father to a life of condemnation—”

“It has nothing to do with us!” he cried.

“It haseverything to do with us,” she hissed. “If you steal those letters to publish them, then you are not a Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv man I can marry.”

His eyes narrowed. “You would take the side of that selfish arse—”

“It’s not for him, blast it!” Frustration wracked her face. “Forget, for a moment, what this would mean for His Highness and the country. Forget what it would mean for me and Papa. Consider what it would mean for Cameron.”

He jerked his hands free of hers. “Who the bloody hell is Cameron?”

“Mrs. Fitzherbert’s son. The one those letters concern. He’s spent years believing that an army captain and his wife are his parents. They’ve treated him kindly, given him a loving home. And now you wish to destroy that—”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but this ‘boy’ is about twenty-two now, is he not?”

“Yes. What of it?”

“I was twelve when I lost my pathetic excuse for a home, and when, for all practical purposes, I lost my mother. Don’t ask me to feel sympathy for some lad who’s had a loving family and comfortable home until now. Because of Prinny’s favor, he probably has fine prospects. Do you know what prospectsI had at twelve?”

“Gavin—”

“Do you know that days after the fire, the blackleg who’d taken me in actually made several appeals to my dear ‘father’? That he told His Bloody Highness I was alone in the world and could use some assistance? And that Prinny ignored every appeal?” Gavin snorted. “Prinny no doubt feared that if he gave me any money, it would be a tacit admission of our connection.”

Gavin’s anger burned in his gut like a hot brand. “And the prince wasn’t about to admit that he’d been, as you put it, a liar and a cheat, that he’d grievously wronged my mother. No, it was much better to ignore the plight of a boy who heknew was his child, to let his mistress’s name continue to be so vilified that she felt she could only help her son by abandoning him.”

Christabel’s face now filled with such pity that he had to look away. “You saw her, lass. Surely you realize how much she suffered from his neglect.” His voice grew hoarse. “Do you know how she got so badly burned?”

“I know she saved you,” she whispered.

“Yes. Late at night, she returned from some piddling job she’d managed to find. When she heard I was still inside, she wrapped herself in a wet rug and came in after me. She found me asleep and couldn’t wake me. Since she couldn’t carry me out while keeping us both wrapped in the rug, she chose to wrap me in the rug and face the flames herself.” The old pain rose to choke him, acrid as the smoke that had clung to his clothes for weeks afterward. “And for her sacrifice, she suffered months of pain, still suffers even today.”

Violently he fought the tears stinging his eyes. He had never let them fall before and wasn’t about to do so now. He could at least be as strong as his mother had been that cruel night. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv His hands balled into fists as he swung his gaze back to Christabel. “If not for His Bloody Highness, she would have been living in some comfortable brick house in a decent part of town where fires didn’t happen with appalling regularity. I wouldn’t have been left alone at night while she slaved at some menial job. She deserves justice for what he did to her, and I mean to get it for her.”

“But she doesn’t want justice,” Christabel protested. “Whatever hatred she felt for him is long gone. You’ve got to put that part of your life behind you, and getting vengeance won’t do that.”

“It might. How can Inot avenge her, when every time I look at her face—”

“She’s happy, Gavin. Can’t you see that? If you do this, do you really think it would improve your life? And what about your brothers? I take it they don’t share the same difficult relationship with the prince as you do—will they be pleased to watch you destroy His Highness’s chance at being king?”

“If they aren’t, they ought to be,” he growled.

“And me?” she whispered. “You know howI feel about it. I can’t just stand by and watch while you destroy everything I’ve worked for, no matter how much I love you.”

Love. The word dangled between them, a glittering promise. With other women, he’d only seen it as a signal that a pleasant affair was about to turn into a prison. But with her, it was an invitation to a life he’d never expected to want. A life he began to think he might want after all. And that terrified him. Because it meant he would have to be a different man. Marrying her was one thing—it was practical, even sensible. Butloving her? Bloody hell. “Don’t say that,” he rasped. She paled. “What? That I love you? I can’t help it. It’s true.”

Panic swelling in him, he tore his gaze from her. “It’s not. What you think you love is an illusion. Meeting my mother put some notion in your head that I’m noble and unselfish and all those damned things you admire. But I’m not. I only survived those years of poverty by beating my conscience into silence and trampling my heart.”

“But you don’t have to do that anymore. You have a successful business and friends and family—”

“The point is, it’s done. I can’t regain what I lost, Christabel. This is all that’s left, this…this creature of will with no heart, no conscience. If you can accept that, then we can probably have a decent marriage. But if you want more, then I can’t be what you want. I’m the man with no soul, remember?”

“I don’t believe that.” She caught his chin, forcing him to look at her. “I’ve seen you be kind to your servants and generous to card cheats and fierce in the defense of those you love. If that’s not a man with a soul, I don’t know what is.”

The love shining in her eyes was so bright, it hung before him like a palpable temptation. But to live up to her belief in him, he’d have to give up his chance to make Prinny pay. And he couldn’t. He simply couldn’t.

“See what you want to see, but that makes it no less an illusion.” Tearing his gaze from hers, he said in a hollow voice, “I’ve never before let talk of love override my reason. I’m not about to do so now.”

The low moan she gave, like that of a wounded beast, cut him so to the heart that he nearly wished the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv words back. But if they were to have any sort of future, she would have to realize what he was.

“You mean to publish the letters, if you find them,” she whispered.

“I mean to use them however I can to strike at Prinny.”

“I can’t allow that,” she said in a small voice. “So I’m afraid that from now on, we must part ways.”

His heart thundering, he shifted to stare at her. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll look for the letters alone. And I can no longer…share your bed.”

An unreasoning rage seized him. “My other mistresses have tried to manipulate me by withholding their favors, my sweet. It has never worked before, and it won’t work now.”

The hurt in her face made a hard knot fist in his gut. “I’m not trying to manipulate you. I’m simply telling you that I can’t bear to stand by and watch while you bring the world down about your ears. And that means I can’t bear to share your bed. It would be too painful.”

“Fine,” he snapped, his rage so murderous that he feared what he’d do if he stayed there a moment longer. He knocked on the ceiling. “Driver! Stop the coach.”

“What on earth are you doing?” she said, her face showing alarm. As the coach shuddered to a halt, he reached for the door. “Since you can’t bear my presence,” he said snidely, “I’ll ride the rest of the way up top.”

He leaped out, then paused to glare at her, his hand still on the handle. “But good luck finding those letters without me. Or should I say, finding thembefore I do. Because I mean to get my hands on them one way or the other.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Some lovers never give up.

—Anonymous,Memoirs of a Mistress

One way or the other.

For the hundredth time in two days, Christabel wondered what Gavin had meant. Did he plan to bargain with Lord Stokely for the letters? The two men were at cross-purposes, so she doubted that would work. Lord Stokely didn’t really want to publish them—he wanted to marry the princess. Whereas Gavin definitely wanted to publish them to prevent His Highness from gaining the throne. A lump settled in her throat. He would never understand, never be able to see past his vengeance. She’d gambled and lost.

Yet she didn’t regret telling him everything. At least now, if he found them before she did, he might think before he acted. He might remember what she’d said, let it break through his wall of anger.

“Cut the cards, Lady Haversham,” said a taut voice across from her. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv She looked up to find Gavin and the other players watching her. Forcing her attention to the game, she cut the cards and pushed them back at Gavin, who began to deal. Despite everything, he’d chosen her as his partner. He’d given her no chance to protest or choose someone else—after their return from Bath, he’d simply announced before the assembly that he and she would be partners.

Though she’d realized he probably just wanted to keep her in his sight at all times, she hadn’t protested. It was crucial that she stay at Lord Stokely’s as long as possible, and she always played her best with Gavin. They seemed to understand each other on a level deeper than most players. And she learned so much just from watching him.

Playing with him these past two days had taught her something else, too: how difficult it must have been for him to turn himself into the man with no soul. Because at the card tables, she’d had to turn herself into the woman with no soul. It was the only way to stay in the game—by thinking of him merely as her card partner, blotting out the emotions that swelled in her whenever she looked up to find him hard and cold and remote.

Like now, when he arranged his cards with methodical precision, like a mechanical toy in circumscribed motion.

Hard to believe that the same man had actually offered her marriage. If he’d even meant it. Even if he had, by now he’d certainly rethought the words he’d spoken in a vain attempt to bring her over to his side.

A sigh escaped her lips.

“Bad cards, Lady Haversham?” Colonel Bradley asked.

She blinked at the man. “If it were, I’m not fool enough to admit it.”

“Well, if you mean to signal Byrne with your sighs,” the colonel retorted, “I’ll make sure Stokely hears of it.”

Gavin’s eyes narrowed. “Are you implying that Lady Haversham and I cheat?” he asked in that velvet-over-steel voice that never failed to make her shiver. Colonel Bradley blanched. Men fought duels over such accusations. “Just making idle conversation, old chap.”

“The colonel is merely annoyed that we’re winning,” Christabel put in. Gavin’s temper had been dangerously close to explosive lately, and anything might set him off. Besides, she and Gavinwere winning. They’d made it into the top eight teams, and the competition had been fierce. Fortunately, Lady Jenner had indeed been forced out of the game because her injury kept her abed. But that had left several others of equal competence. So although she and Gavin were closing in on a hundred points, they had to reach it soon. Two teams had already made it—Lady Hungate and her lover, and Lord Stokely and Lady Kingsley.

That last pairing had surprised some of the other players, but not her. Clearly, Lord Stokely hoped to Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv unnerve Gavin, his main rival, by having Anna as his partner. And since the woman’s idiotic, unsuspecting husband regarded Lord Stokely’s choice as a compliment to his wife’s superior playing, he hadn’t blinked an eye as he’d toddled off to the nearby inn where the other banished guests were staying. Christabel meant to avoid ending up there herself. Gritting her teeth, she walled off her emotions, and turned herself into a card-playing machine like her partner. How Gavin had done it for years, she would never understand. But it did explain how he’d become the man of sheer, unadulterated will who sat across from her.

No one spoke as they played. There was none of the earlier banter and jokes, none of the possibilities for distraction. Everyone was too busy fighting for a chance at the pot, which, last she’d heard, was up to forty thousand pounds.

They won the game just as the gong sounded. When Christabel breathlessly asked to see the tally, Gavin said with a satisfied smile, “We’ve reached a hundred, my sweet. We’ve made it to the final four teams.”

Tallies around the room revealed that the team below them still lacked nearly thirty points to reach a hundred, so they’d have a few hours’ reprieve from play tomorrow when the others sat down. That meant some solid time for searching and another chance to thwart Lord Stokely. But time grew short; at most, they had another two nights and one full day. Colonel Bradley and his partner wandered off in search of entertainment, leaving her and Gavin alone at the table. She rose, eager to escape him before she was tempted to round the table and kiss the grim line from his lips.

But as she turned away, he asked in a low voice, “Have you found them?”

She glanced about the room, but the only people left in the room were Lord Stokely and a few others in conversation several yards away. “I wouldn’t still be here if I had. Have you?”

“No.”

The clipped word frustrated her. It told her so little. She eyed him speculatively. Perhaps if she told him what she knew, he’d unbend enough to tell her the same. “I searched the drawing room and some of the guest rooms. I still haven’t been able to get into Lord Stokely’s room, however. He keeps it locked.”

“They aren’t there. I searched it while he was drinking with the others after last night’s games.”

She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You picked the lock?”

He nodded. “And yours, too,” he said dryly. “Then I tried your door, but it wouldn’t open.”

“I’ve been wedging a chair under the handle because of Lord Stokely.”

“So you gave up on flirting with him to gain access to his room?” he asked in a tight voice.

“Yes.”

He let out a breath. “Thank God for that.” Turning the deck of cards around in his hand, he stared at her. “It’s rapidly becoming apparent that we aren’t going to find them this way. We’d be better off Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv striking a deal with Stokely.”

“He won’t give them up,” she murmured, with a glance in the baron’s direction. “And offering a bargain would only put him on his guard.”

“I know. That’s why I haven’t done it yet. But if the choice is leaving here without the letters or striking a bargain—”

“I have nothing with which to bargain—nothing he’d want badly enough to give them up. You, on the other hand, have money and connections—you might have something he’d want. And it’s not as if I can stop you from…dealing with him.”

Throat tight, she turned to leave, but he spoke again, his voice softer, almost tormented. “Please, lass, I need to know…Are you all right?”

“As well as can be expected.” For a woman whose heart was breaking.

“You look tired.”

Under the circumstances, his concern angered her. “I find it hard to sleep when the possibility of disaster looms over me and my family.”

“And I find it hard to sleep withoutyou .”

Her gaze shot to his, and the yearning she glimpsed in his eyes banished her anger, rousing a bone-deep longing for him in her chest. It had been three full nights since they’d shared a bed, three nights of restless tossing, anxious dreams, and fiery, unfulfilled needs that drove her to drown her woes in tears. It would be so easy to give in, to tell him she didn’t care what happened as long as she had him, didn’t care if her father lost his commission, his reputation…his life. Ruthlessly, she pushed the temptation away. “Try laudanum. I understand it works wonders for the sleepless.”

“Christabel, please—” he choked out.

“Lady Haversham!” a voice called out, dragging her attention from Gavin. She stifled a groan as Lord Stokely approached, especially when a quick glance around revealed that everyone else had left.

The baron flashed them both a patently false smile. “I understand that the two of you will be playing in the next round.”

“We’ll be winning the next round,” Gavin said.

“We’ll see.” Lord Stokely settled his gaze on her, and it grew decidedly lewd. “I hope your partner told you that in the final stages, we meet right after breakfast to play. So the others will be starting at one o’clock.”

“I told her,” Gavin interjected.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv Lord Stokely ignored him. “I’ll send a servant for you once the next round begins. Of course, we may start later than one o’clock if I have another more entertaining prospect tonight that keeps me up until the morn.” He offered her his arm. “Would you join me for a glass of wine in my study, Lady Haversham?”

She actually considered it. Perhaps if she got Lord Stokely drunk—

No, she couldn’t do it, not with Gavin sitting there watching, assuming the worst. Besides, the more she saw of Lord Stokely, the more convinced she was that Gavin was right about him. Hewas playing with them. He would never tell her anything, but he might very well be capable of rape. It was too dangerous to risk.

“Thank you,” she said, ignoring his proffered arm, “but I’m tired after the long day. I believe I’ll go on to bed now.”

She started to walk past, but he caught her arm. “Come now, don’t be so—”

“Let go of her,” Gavin said, each word clipped like pistol fire as he rose to his feet behind them. Lord Stokely’s grip on her arm only tightened. “Don’t be an ass, Byrne. I know you kicked her out of your bed, so now that you’re done with her—”

“First of all, what happens in our bed is none of your concern.” There was no velvet with the steel in his voice this time. “Second, I am far from done with her, and even if I were, you would have no right to manhandle her.”

“I’m not manhandling her.”

Gavin’s eyes narrowed to slits. “If you don’t remove your hand from her arm this minute, I will break it finger by finger until you do.”

Lord Stokely released her with amazing speed. “Christ, you’re mad.” His resentful gaze shot to Christabel. “We’ll talk again when you don’t have an angry ex-lover hovering about.”

As the baron stalked from the room, she heard Gavin mutter, “The hell you will, you slimy bastard.”

They were entirely alone in the cavernous card room. Wary of his mood, Christabel started to leave, but he added in a low voice, “Don’t go.”

She faced him wearily. “Gavin, there’s no point to this.”

“No point?” He strode up to her, then caught her head in his hands and kissed her, slowly, achingly. But when she only stood there woodenly, fighting the surge of feelings that his mouth sent coursing through her, he drew back with a curse. “The point is that we belong together. I miss you. And I can see from your eyes that you miss me, too. Why must you be so stubborn?”

“Why mustyou ? I’m trying to protect everything I hold dear—”

“I’ve already said I’ll not let any harm come to you or your father. But my mother deserves justice.”

“Don’t lie to yourself that you’re doing it for her.”

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“You think I’m doing it for me?” He released her abruptly. “I’m giving up the barony my bloody sire offered. And as you pointed out before, I could lose what little position I have in society. So what advantage will I gain from it?”

“An end to your guilt.”

He looked stricken. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve thought about it constantly ever since Bath. You blame yourself for your mother’s disfigurement, don’t you?”

A muscle worked in his jaw, but he didn’t answer.

“You blame yourself for not rousing—”

“I shouldn’t have slept through a fire, damn it! I shouldn’t have left her to carry me alone.”

“You weren’t asleep, Gavin,” she said gently. “You were overcome with smoke, which is common in a fire. Don’t blame yourself for making it necessary for her to wrap you in the rug. That was the fire’s fault, not yours, no matter what you’ve told yourself through the years. She had a hard choice to make, and she did what any mother would do—sacrificed for her son. But that doesn’t mean you should feel honor-bound to make it right.”

“How can I not?” he said hoarsely. “It’s more than just the fire. I wasn’t by Mother’s side in those difficult months in the hospital when I should have been. They told me she was dead, and like a fool I believed them.”

“You were twelve! You might have been running an E-O table by then, but you were still a child, and you thought like a child. The people in authority told you she was dead—why shouldn’t you believe them? No doubt you saw enough bodies come out of the building that night.”

She laid a hand on his rigid arm. “You have every right to be angry and hurt and bitter, my love. But wreaking havoc on His Highness won’t fix that. It certainly won’t help your mother.”

His body tensed, and he refused to look at her. “She’d have been better off if I’d never been born.”

Dear Lord, he truly believed that, didn’t he? “Oh, my love, don’t even think it. You’re the center of her life. I know she doesn’t regret one minute of having you. She would certainly not want you to do this and ruin your chances at a decent future. All she wants is for you to have a happy life.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “That’s what I want, too.”

His gaze swung to hers, fiery, furious. “You have an odd way of showing it. You refuse to share my bed, you refuse my offer of marriage—”

She snorted. “As if you really meant it.”

“Of course I meant it,” he protested. “I still do.”

She dropped her gaze from his. “I thought you might change your mind when you’d had a chance to reconsider.”

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“Well, I didn’t.” He slid his arm about her waist and pulled her close, then added in a husky rasp,

“You’re the only one keeping us from having a respectable connection, the only one putting conditions on our marriage. I want to marry you no matter what happens.”

She gazed up at him, torn between love and fear. “Then you must think beyond your vengeance to your future. How can we have a happy life with this cloud hanging over our heads?”

“All that matters is us. If we don’t care about public opinion—”

“What about our children? What abouttheir future? Do you really want them to grow up hearing slurs against their father, the man who caused the greatest scandal in royal history? And their grandfather, the disgraced general? You, of all people, should know how sensitive children are to criticism of their families.”

Judging from his stunned look, he hadn’t thought about children at all.

“N-Not that I’m even sure I can have children,” she stammered, disconcerted by his expression, “but I would like to try. I-I would hope that if we married…” When he continued to stare at her without speaking, her heart sank. “You probably don’t even want chi—”

The door swung open behind them to admit Mr. Talbot and Colonel Bradley, clearly in an already inebriated state. “Byrne!” the colonel cried. “You should try some of Stokely’s—Oh, Lady Haversham. Didn’t mean to interrupt. We thought we’d see if Byrne would join us in a drink.”

“It’s all right,” she murmured, grateful for the reprieve. At least she wouldn’t have to hear Gavin admit that he never wanted children, an admission that would shatter her in her already fragile state. “I was just heading off to bed.”

Before they could say anything else, she fled.

Gavin watched her leave, too stunned to do more than stare after her. Children. With Christabel. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it beyond his efforts to prevent it by using French letters.

“Come on, Byrne,” Talbot said, weaving on his feet. “The lady is gone, so come have some brandy with us. Stokely’s broken out the best stuff.”

Gavin whirled on them, his frustration with Christabel twisting into fury at them. “Of course he has. He’s hoping that if you drink enough tonight, you’ll be too bloody cropsick tomorrow to play decently, and then his team will win the pot. He does it every year, and you fools fall for it every time. Why do you think he and I always win?”

He surveyed them with a sudden surge of disgust. “I don’t know why I even bother with the lot of you. You’re idiots, every last one. You deserve to have Stokely fleece you. Good night, gentlemen. Enjoy your drink while you can. Because after tomorrow, you won’t be able to afford brandy for some time.”

“Now see here, no need to be an ass—” Talbot began, but Gavin was already out the door and in the corridor, looking to see if he could catch Christabel.

But no, she’d disappeared. He would think that she was searching, except that she preferred to sleep a few hours first and do her work after there was little chance of running into Stokely. Unlike Gavin, she Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv wasn’t used to late nights. Which meant she was presently in her room, where between Rosa and the chair she kept propped against the handle, she might as well be behind a castle moat. So there was no chance of trying to change her mind by kissing her and making love to her and talking of marriage and the future.

And children.

A groan escaped him as he stared up the staircase that led to the family wing.He could have a family wing—the house at Bath was large enough for it. And if he had his barony, he could pass the title on to his son—

Damn it, he wasn’t going to get the barony, not if he followed his plan for vengeance. Gritting his teeth, he strode off toward the other part of the house, trying to blot Christabel’s words from his head.What about our children?

He’d never wanted children before. Why should he want them now? An image rose unbidden, of her nursing a babe at her breast, of a little lass with red curls perched on his knee or a dark-haired boy calling him Papa—

Damn her! Christabel was driving him insane with her talk of their future. Raucous laughter assaulted his ears, and he gave a wide berth to the drawing room from whence it came. Stokely was in there filling the men’s bellies with drink. Then he would send them to bed stinking drunk, where they’d get into rows with their wives or mistresses. And no one would awaken in any condition to focus on a card game. Except Stokely, of course. For the first time, he felt sickened by the scheming and manipulation and outright chicanery involved in the man’s little games. And his disgust stretched beyond the baron to the women who’d been making advances to Gavin ever since they’d heard that Christabel wasn’t sharing his bed. To the supposed

“gentlemen” of his club, who scoffed at him behind his back for being in “trade” even while they drank his liquor and ate his food and took advantage of all the amenities of his club as if it were their due. Damn them all. Once he had his barony, he’d tell them to go to hell. No,he reminded himself again, he wasn’t going to have a barony. Instead, he was going to heap calumny on his own head by unseating Prinny from the throne. And for what? Don’t lie to yourself that you’re doing it for her.

Of course he was doing it for her.

All right, so his mother had never asked for vengeance, had never prodded him to seek it. Although she’d cursed the prince in her early days, she’d changed after the fire. She’d said that having her life spared had made her realize that life was too precious to spend it hating. And why should she? He’d done all the hating for her—hating those who’d unjustly called her a whore, hating Prinny…hating himself.

He walked up the stairs to his room in a daze. Yes, hating himself. For sleeping through the fire, for not Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv being able to protect his mother, for being born. Christabel wasn’t far wrong—part of the reason he wanted this so badly was to quell the guilt he’d felt ever since he’d been old enough to know he was a bastard, to know that his very existence had altered his mother’s future. Yet she was right about something else, too. His motherdid want him to have a happy life. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have made such sacrifices for him.

Now he meant to reward her sacrifice by destroying any possibility of a happy life for himself. Because if he couldn’t have Christabel, he couldn’t be happy.

He stopped outside his bedchamber as a hollow pain settled in his gut. He couldn’t take this anymore—being without Christabel, going off to his empty bed alone every night, not having her to tease and provoke and hold. Only two women had ever looked at him with true love in their eyes. Only two women had ever looked beneath his defenses to see a man of worth, a man capable of more than he’d shown the world heretofore.

And he would disappoint them both, destroy his future and theirs—and the future of his children—just for the chance to thumb his nose at a man who didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as they. He must be insane.

Abruptly, he turned on his heel and headed back down the stairs. No more—it was time to put an end to the nonsense. He’d find those letters if he had to spend all night searching. And if that didn’t work, he’d bargain with Stokely.

No matter what he had to do, he would get the letters back for Christabel. And only for Christabel. Chapter Twenty-Two

If you find a lover who can be faithful to

you, hold on to him with all your might.

—Anonymous,Memoirs of a Mistress

The next day, Christabel slipped into the main drawing room as the clock struck one. Except for the two teams who’d won early and were probably still abed, the other players would be at the tables. Lord Stokely would be overseeing his guests, even though he was done with this round. And she’d seen Gavin dozing in the music room.

But she couldn’t think about him right now. Or the fact that she’d passed Lady Kingsley heading for the music room. An assignation? With the only woman he’d ever loved? She couldn’t bear to think it. But she had to face the prospect of a future without Gavin, of hearing about him with some new mistress, while she and Papa weathered whatever awful prospect lay before them. Shaking off the icy fear stealing down her spine, she set her fan on a console table near the door. She’d been using the fan as her excuse for being in any room. If a servant came in or one of the guests, she said,

“I was looking for my fan—have you seen it?” Then she’d pretend to find it and leave the room. After so much time searching, she’d developed a routine. Begin at the door and work steadily around the room twice. In the first time around, she examined the furniture, though she doubted she’d find the letters just sitting in some drawer. The second round was for the walls. She searched every panel and Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv molding within reach, looking for anomalies in paint and trim and design, anything that might hide a safe. Of course, once she found one, she’d have to deal with Gavin, because he could open it, and she couldn’t. But she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

She’d just opened a drawer when she heard the door open behind her and a voice say, “You won’t find them in there, Lady Haversham. What kind of an idiot do you take me for?”

Whirling to face Lord Stokely, she felt her blood freeze as he reached behind him with a cold smile to turn the key in the drawing room door, then drop it into a coat pocket.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She fought not to show fear as she edged toward where her fan lay on the console table. “I was looking for my fan.”

His hand came down on hers just as she reached for it. He pocketed her fan, too, and her heart sank. A chilling laugh escaped him. “We both know you weren’t looking for any fan, my dear. You and Byrne must take me for a complete idiot. I know what you want—and you can be sure that you willnever find those letters just lying around in some drawing room. I have them in a very safe place, I assure you.”

Oh, Lord, he knows everything.

He shocked her by lifting her bare hand to his lips and kissing it. “Of course, you might persuade me to share the fruits of my labors if you make the effort. You might as well receive something from this scheme, too. The letters did belong to your family, after all.”

When he closed his mouth around her forefinger and sucked, it was all she could do not to punch a hole in his palate. But she wasn’t ready to draw the battle lines—she’d find out what she could while they were still on good terms.

So she swallowed her disgust, and asked coyly, “What do you mean, you could help me get something, too?”

He lifted his head, but didn’t release her hand. “I knew you would see reason. Especially after Byrne kicked you out of his bed.” His eyes gleamed. “Your dear Philip didn’t leave you with much, did he? And the prince is no doubt breathing down your neck for the letters.”

She schooled herself to show no response. “What is your offer, sir?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Greedy little spitfire, aren’t you? I think you’ll like what I propose. If you’ll tell Prinny that you’ll authenticate the letters if I’m forced to publish them, then I will make you rich beyond your wildest dreams.”

“Byrne offered me riches, too,” she lied. “Why should I takeyour offer?”

“He doesn’t have the letters. And I do. When Prinny marries me off to Princess Charlotte—”

“He’ll never do it,” she broke in. “His Highness has loftier husbands in mind for her.”

The baron snorted. “Given the choice between marrying his daughter to me or losing his chance to be king, the prince will never choose Charlotte, I assure you. And if heis fool enough to do so, then I can sell those letters to a publisher for a hefty sum.” He entwined his fingers with hers and drew her close. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv

“Especially if you agree to tell your side of the story. They’ll be fighting over who gets to publish the book. You were what age when you and your father sailed off to Gibraltar with a prince’s son? Six? Seven?”

“Eight,” she said tightly.

“Perfect. A child’s perspective.”

She fought down the roiling of her stomach. “You forget that my father is still alive. And he could be hanged for treason if they’re published.”

Lord Stokely shrugged. “Your father’s a general—he could flee to America or any number of places from France, and no one would ever find him.” He bent his head to her ear. “Youare the one you should be thinking of, my dear, not your father.”

When he placed a wet kiss to her ear, she eased her head away from him with a shiver. “And I suppose a friendship with you would be part of this bargain.”

“Of course.” His eyes bored into hers, lust shining in their depths. “I will be a most generous lover, my dear. I know you have nowhere to go, but I would set you up in any house in London that you choose, a slew of houses if you want. Princess Charlotte comes with a substantial dowry, so I could afford to shower you with jewels and gowns and—”

“There’s only one problem with that,” she said, extricating her hand from his. “I don’t particularly care for jewels and gowns and houses in town. And I have no desire to be your mistress.”

“Holding out for marriage, are you? Not sensible, you know. A penniless marchioness is of little more use to a man than a penniless milliner.” He ran his slimy gaze down her. “Some fellow might marry you for your obvious charms, but beyond that, you’re little good to a man.”

“Then why would you want me for a mistress?” she snapped.

“Because I happen to like obvious charms.” He slid his hand about her waist. “And you’ve shown that you prefer men of my sort.”

“Not really.” Time to get out of his. She wrenched free of his hold and backed toward the door. “I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse your generous offer, Lord Stokely. Being one man’s mistress is more than enough for me.” She searched for something that might make him open the door. “In fact, Byrne and I had planned to meet here to search for the letters. He’s probably on the way even as we speak, and since he’s adept at picking locks—”

“Good try, Lady Haversham, but it won’t wash. I saw him heading out into the gardens with Lady Kingsley right before I came in here. Why do you think I chose that moment to speak to you?” As he stalked her, his smile sent a shiver down her spine. “Ever heard the phrase,divide and conquer ? Lady Kingsley is interested in renewing her acquaintance with your good friend Byrne.”

He lunged forward and caught her around the waist again. “And I’m interested in beginning one with you.”

She shoved against his chest, not only to force him away but in hopes of finding where he’d stuck her fan. “But I’m not interested in beginning one with you.”

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“You will be. As soon as I show you I can be an even better lover than Byrne.”

He lowered his mouth to hers. Blast, he gave her no choice. She reached down and grabbed his ballocks, squeezing them more tightly than she’d squeezed Gavin’s that first time. No one could say she didn’t learn from her mistakes. It must have been the right amount of pressure, for he jerked back, his eyes popping wide. “What the devil—”

“Let go of me, sir,” she commanded.

“You little bitch—”

She squeezed until his curse turned to a squeak, and he released her waist. Then she backed toward the door, dragging him by the ballocks the whole way. “You just couldn’t listen, could you?” she snapped.

“When a lady says no, she means no. Perhaps next time you’ll remember that.”

The veins stood out on his face, and his jaw was taut enough to bounce a penny off of. “Y-Yes,” he choked out. “Just…let go.”

When she reached the door, she felt inside his coat with her free hand until she’d retrieved her fan and the key. Then she unlocked the door and opened it. “Thank you for the enlightening discussion, Lord Stokely.” Then she gave an extra squeeze and released him, leaving him doubled over and groaning while she rushed out the door and locked him inside.

Pocketing the key and her fan, she hurried out of the house with her heart racing. That had been much too near for comfort. She had to get as far away from the scoundrel as possible, before he came after her.

At least it would take a few minutes for him to make himself heard—once he recovered—and another few minutes for the servants to find the key and let him out. She headed to the gardens. She had to find Gavin. There was no point to their searching anymore—Lord Stokely had made that painfully clear. So they had to strike some bargain with him. But only Gavin had the wherewithal to deal with the man. Somehow she must convince him to give up his plans for vengeance and help her. She simply must make him listen!

Voices came from the gazebo in the far corner, so she headed there. But as she approached near enough to recognize the voices, she hesitated. Lord Stokely hadn’t lied—Gavinwas with Lady Kingsley. Something kept her from bursting right in on them. Heart pounding, she edged around the gazebo until she found one of the fanciful shuttered windows, still closed from the night before. She eased the shutter open enough to look inside, though she felt like a fool for eavesdropping. But how could she not? Lady Kingsley had been the love of his life.

“Enough, Anna,” Gavin was saying. “You’ve babbled on now for ten minutes about why you listened to your parents years ago. I keep telling you, it doesn’t matter to me anymore. I’ve forgotten it—you should, too. And if you dragged me out here just to beg my forgiveness or some such nonsense—”

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“Forgiveness! No, it’s not forgiveness I want from you.”

Christabel peered around the edge until she could see them both in profile. Once again, she was struck by how hauntingly beautiful Lady Kingsley was. A lump settled in her throat. No wonder Gavin had loved her.

“Then what?” he snapped. “I have to return to the house.”

“For what?” Lady Kingsley countered. “That hoyden you call a mistress? I hear she’s not even sharing your bed these days.”

He stiffened. “Who told you that?”

“Lord Stokely, of course. He heard it from his servants.”

“Ah.” He arched one eyebrow. “You and Stokely seem rather…cozy now that your husband is in town.”

“Are you jealous?” she said hopefully.

“Afraid not, my sweet. Those days are long past.”

At his words, the tightness around Christabel’s heart eased some. But they brought a frown to Lady Kingsley’s delicate brow. “You needn’t worry about me and Lord Stokely. He’s not my sort. And she’s not yours. Surely you see that. You need a woman with finesse, sophistication, a woman like—”

“You?” he said dryly. “Thank you, but I’ve had my fill of women like that.”

“Oh, Gavin.” Her aching whisper set Christabel’s teeth on edge. “I don’t blame you for hating me. I should never have listened to my family.”

“But you did, Anna,” he said, his voice decidedly more gentle. “And you were right to do so. A marriage between us would never have worked. You would have fretted over my constant absences and the enormous amount of time I spent at the club in the early years. You would have chafed at the lack of money—”

“I’m not so shallow as all that,” Lady Kingsley said petulantly. “I would have understood about your financial situation.”

“Perhaps,” he said, though he sounded merely placating. “But I couldn’t have succeeded while worrying every moment about you. We were too young, and I couldn’t give you the things you wanted. There’s a very good reason men wait until they’re older and established to marry. Because then they have the time and money they need to devote to a wife and family.”

“Or a mistress?” She lowered her lashes provocatively as she sidled up to him. “It would take very little for me to convince Walter to buy a house in town. Then you and I could meet whenever we pleased.”

She reached up to un-knot his cravat. “You loved me once—”

“That was long ago,” he said firmly, removing her hand from his cravat. “And I don’t want a mistress. I Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv want a wife.”

Her gaze flew to his. “You mean to marry Lady Haversham?”

“If she’ll have me,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

Christabel couldn’t breathe. He’d meant it? He really did mean to marry her? That didn’t seem to alter Lady Kingsley’s purpose. “There’s nothing to say you can’t have a wifeand a mistress. Most men do. Marry the chit if you crave respectability, but you could still—”

“No, I only want her. You’re right—she’s not my sort, thank God. She’s kind and generous and honest, far too good for the likes of me. But that’s not going to stop me from marrying her, no matter what it takes.”

Christabel’s blood thundered in her ears so loudly, she was sure they would hear it. Lady Kingsley looked decidedly ill. “If it’s a wife you want, I could…try to convince Kingsley—”

“To divorce you?” Gavin gave a harsh laugh. “Don’t be absurd. Even if he would, you’d be a fool to risk it. I wager you don’t like scandal any more now than you did then.” He softened his tone. “And I hate to tell you this, Anna, but if you showed up on my doorstep tomorrow free as a bird, I wouldn’t marry you. Our time has passed, my sweet. Lady Haversham is the woman I want, the woman Ineed . And nothing you say or do will change that.”

“I don’t believe it.” Lady Kingsley threw her arms about his neck. “You still love me—I know that you do. And I can prove it, too.”

As she pressed her lips to Gavin’s, a searing rage roared through Christabel. She rounded the gazebo, threw the door open, and hissed, “Take your hands off my fiancé this minute, you scheming witch.”

Gavin was already setting the woman away from him, but as Lady Kingsley whirled to face her, Christabel jerked out her fan. “You had your chance with him, and you lost him. You don’t get another.”

Flipping the catch to release the knife, she brandished the blade. “And if you don’t leave him alone from now on, I swear I’ll gut you like a fish the next time I see you.”

Lady Kingsley let out a squeak.

“Better take her words to heart, Anna,” Gavin said dryly. “She’s liable to do exactly what she says.”

“Oh, yes,” Christabel said in her fiercest voice. “You see, women who lack ‘finesse’ happen to possess boldness in spades. We don’t sneak behind our rivals’ backs to steal their lovers. We have the courage tofight for the men we love, a character trait that sophisticated women like you have apparently failed to acquire.”

Gavin looked as if he were struggling not to laugh. “You’d better go, Anna. Lady Haversham and I have some matters to discuss in private.”

Lady Kingsley gave a tight nod, then edged warily around Christabel before darting out the door. As soon as she was gone, Gavin dropped his gaze to Christabel’s blade. “You can put it away now, Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv lass. Unless you’re planning to go on a rampage and threaten my former mistresses, too.”

She retracted the blade. “I’m sorely tempted.”

He stepped closer. “You do know, darling, that I wasn’t trying—”

“Yes, I realize that. I heard the pertinent parts.” When he reached for her, she brushed his hands aside.

“But I didn’t mean to…I didn’t come here for that. I came to tell you what I found out about the letters.”

His smile faded. “Right now, I don’t give a bloody damn about those bloody letters. Christabel, I—”

“Lord Stokely knows that we’ve been looking for them.”

That brought him up short. “I’m not surprised. But how can you be sure?”

Swiftly, she related the encounter she’d just had with the baron, leaving out the parts that might send Gavin into a rage.

It sent him into a rage anyway. “He wanted to make you his mistress?” He headed for the door. “It’s time I set that bloody arse straight once and for all.”

“Forget Lord Stokely’s flirtations for a moment,” she said, grabbing him by the arm to stay him. “I came to tell you that he seems to think having me on his side would help him. He mentioned that I could authenticate the letters.”

That gave Gavin pause. “Did he?” He turned toward her, eyes narrowing. “That means he’s beginning to doubt whether he could convince a publisher to print them without other proof.” He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Do you know what this means?”

She eyed him warily. “N-Not really.”

A slow smile lit his face. “It means we have something to bargain with.”

“I don’t follow—”

“Don’t worry,” he said, “leave it to me. If we can’t go to the letters, perhaps we can make the letters come to us.”

“You have a plan!”

“I have a plan.” He removed her fan from her fingers and tossed it aside, then slid his arms about her waist to draw her near.

She strained back from him. “What is it?”

“I’m not telling you.”

Her heart sank. “Because you mean to get them for yourself.”

“Have a little faith in me, darling,” he said softly. “Have a little faith in yourself. Did you think I could remain immune to your heartfelt pleas forever?”

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“Actually, I did,” she said, with a lift of her chin.

“Then you don’t realize the effect you have on me. What you said last night made sense. Iwas doing it for myself, when all I ever wanted was justice for my mother. But if using the letters would hurt her more—would hurtyou more—how can I do it?”

A cautious hope sprouted in her chest. “So you’re going to help me get them back? And let me return them to the prince?”

At the mention of His Highness, his face grew pained. “I’ll do whatever you want, darling. Just don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

Hope sprang to full flower. “Oh, Gavin!” she cried, throwing her arms about his neck and showering his face with kisses. “Thank you, my love, thank you!”

After a moment, he drew back, a suspicious gleam in his eyes. “I’m not done, lass. I do expect you to meet one condition before I’ll help you.”

She eyed him warily. “Oh?”

“You have to agree to marry me.”

Marry him. The wordyes was on the tip of her tongue before she caught herself. She’d leaped into marriage without a thought once before—she was not going to do so again without settling a few things first.

Nor did it bode well for their future that he would use the letters to try forcing her into marriage. “Let me see if I understand you—you will only help me regain the letters and return them to their rightful place if I agree to marry you.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s blackmail, you know.”

“Of course,” he said without an ounce of remorse in his face. “By now, you should know I’m capable of worse.”

“So if I refuse to marry you? Would you then go off to get the letters on your own and ruin my family?”

“Absolutely.”

She frowned. “You wouldn’t help me out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Let me tell you a secret, lass.” He bent close to her ear and added in a whisper, “I don’t have any goodness in my heart.”

When he then proceeded to kiss a path along her jaw, she said, “Then why should I marry you?”

“Because you want to.”

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“I’m not sure that I do,” she said, peeved that he could be so certain of her. He reached for the buttons at the back of her day gown, and she added, “Stop that! We don’t have time for—”

“We have plenty of time,” he assured her. “The next round of games won’t begin for another hour or two, and we need only a few moments with Stokely. So we have all the time we need to…work out the terms of our agreement.”

He slid her gown off her shoulder and pressed an openmouthed kiss to the flesh he’d bared. “Besides, I’m not leaving here until you agree to marry me.”

As his hand slid inside her gown to cup her breast through the chemise, she sighed. It had been too long since he’d touched her, too long since he’d caressed her. “But what if…your plan doesn’t work, and you can’t retrieve them?”

“Then we renegotiate.” He dragged her gown off. “But don’t worry, I’ll get them back somehow. As long as you agree to my terms.”

When he circled around behind her to unlace her corset, she became aware of her surroundings. “Gavin, if someone sees us—”

“Don’t worry, they’re playing cards.” But after dropping her corset beside her, he strode over to close the gazebo door. “So? Will you marry me?”

“I don’t know why I should,” she grumbled. “It will quite ruin me in society to be married to a scoundrel like you.”

He laughed. “As if you care about society.”

She thrust out her chin. “And I have some terms of my own.”

He arched one eyebrow as he came toward her, shedding his clothes piece by piece. “I hope you’re not going to ask me to close my club.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because of Haversham and his penchant for gambling,” he said tightly. She snorted. “Youwould never lose a fortune at the tables. No, I’m not worried about you on that score.” When relief showed in his face, she couldn’t resist saying, “But if that were one of my conditions, would you do it?”

He approached her, eyes narrowing. “You’re going to be a stubborn minx and make me beg, aren’t you?”

“After all you’ve put me through?” she said lightly. “Absolutely.”

She backed away from him, only to come up squarely against the pillar that held up the gazebo. Wearing nothing but his drawers, he reached out and flicked her chemise off her shoulders. As it slid down her body, he dropped to his knees, and said earnestly, “I’ll do anything it takes to have you in my life.”

“Anything?”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv

“Anything.” He slid her own drawers down, then leaned close to press a kiss to the curls that already grew damp. “I want to make you mine.”

His mouth closed hotly over her, sucking, caressing. “I want to take care of you, have you take care of me,” he murmured against her. “Have children with you.”

Her blood raced as she clutched his head. “Oh, Gavin, what if I can’t?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s you I want.”

“Onlyme?” she whispered. “You have to admit you’re used to having a rather…wide variety of women at your disposal.”

He sat back on his heels and stared up at her, eyes solemn. “Sometimes a man must sample a variety of women to learn what he really wants. And I want you. Just you. From now on, until death do us part.”

She swallowed, still hesitant. “No mistresses, no ladies of the evening—”

“I don’t need them anymore, my darling. They were all practice for you.” Then he covered her with his mouth, and began to show her exactly how much he’d learned from his “practice.”

“Ohhh, Gavin…” she murmured, as the ache built in her, the ache that only he could soothe, that only he roused. “Please…please—”

“Marry me.” He brought her just to the edge, then kept her there hanging, yearning…” Marry me, Christabel.”

There was one thing he hadn’t said, but she was afraid to ask for it. Because if Gavin couldn’t love her—

“Marry me, darling.” He tugged her down, laying her out on the cushions scattered about the gazebo floor. After shoving off his drawers, he knelt between her legs and entered her with one fierce thrust. “I can’t promise I’ll make you happy, but I sure as hell will try.”

“What if I need something more to make me happy?” she asked hesitantly.

“Something more?” His eyes searched hers. “Ah yes, something more.” He drove into her deeply, then said in a husky rasp, “I love you, Christabel. More than I ever imagined possible, I love you.”

Her joy exploded, making her arch up into him in an urgent need to be closer to him, to have him filling her so completely that they could never be torn apart. “Oh, Gavin, I love you, too.”

His gaze grew fierce, hungry, the gaze of a man who knew what he wanted and would move heaven and earth to get it. “Then marry me, my love.” His voice was an aching whisper as he thundered into her.

“Marry me…marry me…”

And as the need soared in her, finding an answer in his wild and passionate thrusts, she cried,

“Yes…yes…oh yes, Gavin, yes!”

Then they were reaching release together, the flood of pleasure swamping her, washing away any doubts Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv and uncertainties until the only thing remaining was the bedrock of the love she felt for her dear, strong Gavin.

The aftermath was sweet indeed. Gavin dragged her into his embrace, where they lay, hearts pounding, until their blood began to cool and their passion to ebb.

Still hardly daring to believe the joy that stole through her, she whispered, “Did you mean it?”

He tipped her chin up to him, and the warmth in his eyes made it clear that he knew exactly what she was asking. “I love you. I love how you throw yourself into any endeavor with the strength and enthusiasm of an army marching to war. I love that you try to be honest in everything, that you hire damaged soldiers as servants, that you’re loyal to your family. I adore the fact that you went after Anna with a knife.” His amusement faded to earnestness. “I love that you look at me and don’t see a bastard or a coldhearted gambler or a licentious fool. You see a man worth saving. I love that most of all.”

Her throat grew tight as she stroked his cheek. “Tell the truth, my love. If I’d refused to marry you, would you still have agreed to help me get the letters back to Papa?”

He flashed her a rueful smile. “Yes.” When she began to smile, he added gruffly, “But only in hopes that I could convince you later to marry me.”

“Nonsense,” she teased. “You do have a conscience, for all your protests otherwise.And a soul.”

“If you say so,” he muttered. “But if you think that means I’m going to start forgiving people’s debts and doing fool things like going to church and—”

Her kiss cut him off. When it rapidly flared into something hot and raw and he slid his hand down to fondle her breast, she broke free to whisper, “Enough of that for now. We’ll have plenty of time for it later.” Sitting up, she found her chemise and drew it on. “Now tell me how we’re going to get Papa’s letters back.”

With a sigh, he propped his head up on one hand. “All right, darling. My plan isn’t foolproof by any means, but here’s what I was thinking…”

Chapter Twenty-Three

If your lover is a gambler, you must be

prepared for anything.

—Anonymous,Memoirs of a Mistress

As Gavin ushered Christabel into Stokely’s study right behind the baron, he tamped down his unease. He must sound convincing to a man who knew him far too well. If this didn’t work—

It had to. He gazed down at Christabel, at her luminous eyes and fear-tightened mouth, and felt a punch in the gut at the thought of failing her.

She cast him a sudden glance, a hesitant smile, and his heart constricted. He had to convince Stokely one way or the other. He refused to disappoint her as Haversham had.

“So what’s this about, Byrne?” Stokely asked as he took a seat behind his desk. “You mentioned a Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv proposition?”

“I want to buy Lady Haversham’s letters from you.”

Stokely didn’t even bother to pretend he didn’t know what Gavin meant. “Why would I sell them to you when I wouldn’t take Prinny’s money for them?”

“Because if you don’t,” Gavin retorted, “I’ll make them useless to you.”

The baron’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Christabel and I will tell the press about some forged letters making the rounds that insinuate that Prinny had a child by Mrs. Fitzherbert. We’ll claim that Christabel’s husband had them forged so he could sell them to pay off a gaming debt. And that will leave you with nothing to blackmail Prinny with.”

Stokely shot up from his chair, his face a cold, hard mask. “You wouldn’t dare. The minute you raise the possibility of there being such a child, the press will descend in a swarm to examine every aspect of General Lyon’s past and Lady Haversham’s marriage. They’ll unearth the truth, and the prince would never allow that.”

Gavin stared at him coldly. “I don’t care what Prinny would allow—I’d just as soon see him destroyed. Why do you think I want the letters for myself? So I can ruin his chance of being king.”

Stokely, of all people, knew how much Gavin loathed the prince. But that didn’t mean he’d fall for this.

“I seriously doubt Lady Haversham would conspire with you in any effort that would destroy her father, too.”

“As you said earlier,” she retorted, “my father can flee anywhere he pleases.”

“If you truly didn’t care what happened to your father,” Stokely snapped, “you would have taken me up onmy offer.”

Gavin could cheerfully kill the man for that offer. Especially since he sensed she was hiding the worst of what had happened.

No matter. Once they had the letters, Gavin would take great pleasure in making sure Stokely paid for his actions.

Stokely was eyeing her now with suspicion. “You’d never let Byrne raise the subject of Prinny’s child in the papers, not when it might destroy your family.” The baron rounded the desk to stare Gavin down.

“And while you may not care about Prinny, you care abouther . I’m not a fool. This is a bluff, and a feeble one at that.”

He started toward the door. “The letters are not for sale, not now, not ever.”

Time for drastic measures. “Then I’m afraid I shall have to call you out, sir, to defend Lady Haversham’s honor after the insult you gave to her earlier today.”

“No, Gavin!” she cried. He hadn’t told her of his measure of last resort, because he knew she would protest. But Stokely couldn’t use the letters if he were dead, after all. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv Unfortunately, Stokely merely laughed at the suggestion. “Duel over the honor of a whore? Don’t be absurd.”

As rage exploded in Gavin, Christabel grabbed his arm. “Perhaps another sort of duel would appeal to you more, Lord Stokely,” she said quickly. “A duel more suitable to your talents. And ours.”

Gavin stared at her. What was she up to?

At least her words had kept Stokely from leaving. He eyed her with the faintest hint of interest in his face. “Go on.”

“Why not add the letters to the final prize of the games? We’ll forgo the pot—you and Lady Kingsley can keep it for yourselves even if you lose—but if we win, we get the letters. And ifyou win, you keep everything.”

Gavin suppressed a smile. Leave it to Colonel Christabel to come up with a strategy that might actually entice Stokely.

“You’re not even sure you’ll make it to the final round,” the baron pointed out. He was actually considering the offer. Good. “You’re not even sureyou will,” Gavin countered. Stokely snorted. “Lady Kingsley and I have been ahead of you the whole way.”

“Exactly,” Gavin said. “So why not agree? You’re far more likely to win than we are. Of course, ifyou don’t make it into the final round, we would still expect the letters to be part of the prize. And ifwe make it, I’ll forgo my thousand-pound wager with you, too. Think of it—no matter whether we win against you or lose, you get to keep the thousand pounds and the pot. That’s a rather hefty consolation prize.”

Stokely frowned. “How is this any different than if you pay me for the letters?” His lascivious gaze settled on Christabel. “Of course, if Lady Haversham’s…affections were thrown into the bargain, I might consider—”

“Absolutely not,” Gavin bit out. “She isn’t part of the bargain.” And by God, when this was over, he’d tear the man’s lungs out for even thinking of it.

“However,” Christabel put in, “Iwill offer one additional inducement. If we lose, then I’ll attest to the authenticity of the letters. That’s what you wanted from me anyway, isn’t it?”

“Not entirely,” Stokely said.

“It’s all you’ll get,” Gavin snapped. When Stokely bristled, he forced a modicum of civility into his tone.

“This way you’ll gain nearly everything you wanted.”

“IfI win. And if I can trust the two of you to hold to your part of the bargain.”

“Have I ever cheated on a bet before?” Gavin snapped.

“There’s always a first time.”

“If you want, we’ll sign something saying that the letters are authentic. If you win, we’ll hand that over. If Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv we win, you give us the letters.”

Gavin could see the conflict in Stokely’s face. He wasn’t quite as sure of his position as he’d led them to believe. He couldn’t entirely assume that Christabel would keep Gavin from prematurely revealing to the press what was in the letters. After all, Gavin had never shown such loyalty to a mistress before. Why would he start now?

Besides, Stokely wanted the letters free of any encumbrances. And Christabel’s offer made that possible.

“Come now, Stokely,” Gavin said, “it’s a fair proposal, and you know it.” His tone grew condescending.

“And youare a gambling man, aren’t you? You have a choice: Gamble on the final game or gamble that we don’t go back to London and spread tales about the letters that would make them useless to you. Which will it be?”

Stokely glanced from Gavin to Christabel, then back. “All right,” he said at last. “We’ll play for the letters.”

Ruthlessly Gavin resisted the impulse to crow.

Now all they had to do was win at cards.

Christabel couldn’t believe it. Heart pounding, she stared down at the trick they’d won, the trick that had just catapulted them into the final round past Lady Hungate and her partner. Perhaps the good fortune that had always evaded Philip had amassed itself to rain down on her and Gavin in their hour of need.

With a groan, Lady Hungate lifted her gaze to Gavin. “I swear, Byrne, you have the damnedest luck.”

“True, but in this case it wasn’t luck, Lady Hungate.” His eyes met Christabel’s. “It was skill.”

Lady Hungate cast Christabel a grudging smile. “You may be right, sir. You may just be right.” She turned to her partner. “Come, my dear, let’s go drown ourselves in Stokely’s brandy. No point to abstaining from it now that we’ve lost any chance at the pot. Again.”

When she and her partner rose, Lord Stokely looked over from where he was standing with the team they’d just beaten, waiting for the outcome. “Do we have a winner then?”

“Of course,” Gavin said, eyes glittering. “It’s just the four of us from here on out, Stokely.”

Lord Stokely came over with Lady Kingsley. “Shall we go on to the final rubbers now? Or do you wish a brief period of respite?”

“I don’t need any respite,” Gavin said. “What about you, darling?”

“I’m ready now,” Christabel answered. Or as ready as she could ever be for a game where so much was at stake.

“But before we begin,” Gavin told Lord Stokely. “I want to see the prize.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv

“I thought you might.” Reaching inside his pocket, Lord Stokely drew out a packet and threw it on the table in front of him.

Her blood began to thunder in her ears. So close and yet still miles away. Gavin strode up to the table and reached for them, but Lord Stokely stayed his hand. “Ifyou win, and not before.”

“How do we know they’re the right ones?”

Lord Stokely glanced beyond him to Christabel, one eyebrow raised in question.

“It’s them,” she confirmed, her throat dry. She would recognize that faded yellow ribbon and the crumbling paper anywhere.

“What’s this about?” Lady Kingsley asked.

“Nothing you should worry your pretty head over,” Lord Stokely told her. “Just play to win, my dear. Play to win.”

“I always do,” she retorted.

“Shall we begin?” Gavin asked.

“In a moment,” Lord Stokely answered. “But first…” He waved over two footmen who’d been standing at the ready inside the door. “Mr. Byrne keeps a knife inside his boot. Make sure you relieve him of it. And search the chit, too—she’s been known to carry a pistol from time to time.”

Gavin’s lips twisted in a smile. “Don’t you trust us, Stokely?” he said, as the footmen searched him, removing his knife.

“Not for one minute.”

A maid was called in to search Christabel, discovering her fan in her apron pocket.

“You can keep that, I suppose.” Lord Stokely gave a cruel laugh. “You might need it when the game grows heated.”

Lady Kingsley looked as if she might say something about the fan, but Christabel shot her a threatening glance that the woman thankfully took to heart.

“Now it’s my turn to searchyou, Stokely,” Gavin said.

Lord Stokely looked offended. “I’m a gentleman. I don’t carry knives hidden in my boot.”

“All the same, I’m sure you won’t mind if I look for myself.”

Lord Stokely hesitated, then gave in with a nod.

When Gavin had satisfied himself that Lord Stokely indeed was weaponless, he added, “Same terms for Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv the game as always? We play the best two rubbers out of three?”

“Of course.” Lord Stokely waved toward the chairs. “Ladies.”

As Christabel found her seat, her pulse began to race. So much was at stake—the letters, her father’s honor, even her future with Gavin. If Lord Stokely won and kept the letters, there was no telling how or upon whom His Highness would wreak his fury. He might not stop with her and Papa. By agreeing to marry Gavin no matter what, she’d put him firmly inher camp, and the prince had already done so much to hurt him that she couldn’t bear to see him do more.

They had to win. It was as simple as that.

Her hands shook as she pulled out the chair. Then suddenly Gavin’s hand was covering hers, helping her with the chair. And in the process, giving her a brief caress. As she sat down, she gazed up at him. His mouth crooked up in a smile. “Good luck, my love,” he murmured. Then he left her to take his own seat.

It was enough to steady her hands and her nerve.

She forced herself to concentrate, to remember every card played. Earlier in the week, she’d partnered Lady Kingsley a few times and even Lord Stokely once. She dredged up every memory of how they’d played, every strategy they’d exhibited. And she put it to good use. They lost the first rubber. But Lord Stokely and Lady Kingsley lost the second. It was down to one. They were in the final game, nearly even in points, when Lord Stokely said, “I suppose you told Byrne about our encounter this morning, Lady Haversham.”

“Of course.” If he was trying to rattle her, she wouldn’t let him.

“And the caresses we shared. Did you tell him of that?”

Now he was trying to rattle Gavin. “Sharedimplies that both of us participated, Lord Stokely. But as I recall the only caress I gave you was of the painful variety.”

Gavin laughed. “Grabbed you by the ballocks, did she? You’d better be wary of Christabel, Stokely. She can bring a man to his knees, and not in a good way.”

In the end, the only person rattled by the interchange was Lord Stokely, which gave her immense satisfaction. After that, he kept his opinions to himself. Which was a good thing, because the cards took all her concentration.

Still, they kept fairly well apace with Lord Stokely and Lady Kingsley, although the couple had the lead. Then disaster struck. She stared at the abysmal hand she’d been dealt, praying that Gavin had a better one.

She glanced over the table at him, but his face showed nothing as he examined his own cards. Just once, she wished he would break his stoic manner and give her some sign of how good his cards were. But if he did, there was always the chance that the other side could see, too, and that would be dangerous. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv They were four points behind Lord Stokely and Lady Kingsley, four tiny points. Yet it might as well be a hundred with a hand like this. She could feel the panic rise in her throat, feel the terror building. Then Gavin’s voice came to her from that long-ago night when he’d first started teaching her to play. Whether ten pounds or ten thousand ride on your hand, you must leave emotion out of it. Play to the cards you have. Always.

So she did. She forced herself to block out her fear and concentrate on the cards. Lady Kingsley was saving her diamonds, no doubt, since diamonds were trump, so Christabel must save bigger ones. She let a jack of clubs pass that she could have taken with a two of diamonds, barely suppressing a sigh of relief as Gavin took it with the king of clubs. And that’s how it went, each of them playing to the other’s strengths like an old married couple. They won that trick and the next, until with a final flourish, Lady Kingsley brandished the queen of diamonds. And Christabel topped it with her only good card—the one she’d saved so carefully—the king of diamonds.

Gavin smiled widely. “We won, my love. We won.”

“It can’t be,” Lady Kingsley whispered, her gaze fixed on the king of diamonds. “I was sure Lord Stokely had it. From the way you were playing, I didn’t believe…I couldn’t imagine—”

“It’s all right, my dear,” Lord Stokely said, seeming oddly unperturbed. “We changed the terms of the game, so you and I still get to keep the pot. They merely get to have these.”

When he tossed them across the table at Christabel with nonchalant unconcern, she grew suspicious. She picked them up and thumbed through them, her delight turning rapidly into fury.

“What is it?” Gavin asked.

“Three are missing.” She shot Lord Stokely an accusing glance. “And knowing you, they’re probably three of the most damaging.”

The baron shrugged. “Your husband must have kept them out for that reason. These are the only onesI have.”

“You blasted cheater,” she hissed. “You’d better produce those other three letters, or I swear I’ll—”

“What? Tell all of London about them and risk your father’s neck? Not likely, my dear.” His eyes gleamed at her. “But thank you for the pot, both of you. I can always use the funds when I go to court my…ah…future royal wife.”

“I don’t understand,” Lady Kingsley put in. “What on earth is this about? What are those?”

“Nothing you need worry about,” Lord Stokely reassured her. Out of the corner of her eye, Christabel saw Gavin reach for the knife in his boot, then realize it wasn’t there. When his gaze met hers, she understood, and instantly slid her fan across the table. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv Gavin caught it, and seconds later was on his feet behind Lord Stokely, jerking the man’s head back by the hair so his other hand could press the blade to the man’s neck. “The missing letters, if you please,” he growled.

Lord Stokely’s surprise rapidly twisted into fear. “I don’t have them.”

Gavin stared down at his old “friend.” He didn’t believe for a minute that Stokely didn’t have the other letters. Especially since Christabel’s expression showed that she didn’t believe it either. “Then what happened to them?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“A pity.” Gavin pressed the blade closer. “Now I’ll have to kill you so you can’t use them.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Stokely whispered, though his hands were shaking, and sweat had broken out on his brow. “For God’s sake, Byrne, I’m a lord of the realm. Kill me, and you’ll end up on the gibbet.”

“Not when Prinny hears of it. He wouldn’t hesitate to free the man who acted to save his throne.” He lowered a blade a bit. “But you do have a point—if I kill you, I won’t get the other letters, and someone else might stumble upon them who could use them.”

“Yes,” Stokely said, breathing a little easier.

“So I’ll just have to remove pieces of you until you recover your memory.” Gavin slid the knife around until it lay directly beneath Stokely’s left ear. “Shall I start with this?”

“You wouldn’t—”

“You forget where I was raised.” Gavin could feel both ladies watching him in horror, but he dared not respond to that. Stokely had to believe he would do it. “I learned all sorts of things living in Drury Lane. Did you know that a man can survive very well without his ear? And if you’re worried it might make your head look uneven, I could always remove the other—”

“Enough,” the man said hoarsely. “The other letters are in the safe. Behind you. In the mantelpiece.”

“Where exactly?” Gavin demanded. With his free hand, he grabbed Stokely’s ear and dragged him up out of the chair by it. “Show me.” Gavin drew back the blade just enough to allow Stokely to edge toward the mantel.

The baron pressed something, and a piece of the marble swung open to reveal a safe.

“Right here in the card room,” Christabel said in disgust. “How you must have enjoyed knowing that we were looking everywhere but here, that we were playing cards a few inches from your safe.”

Stokely’s shrug ended when Gavin pressed the knife against his neck once again. “Open it.”

“I thought you knew how to open a safe,” Christabel said.

“This is how.” Gavin shot her a faint smile. “You can get any man to open a safe if his only other choice is losing his life.” He shifted the knife to beneath Stokely’s ear. “Or parts of his anatomy.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv Stokely stiffened but complied.

The safe swung open to reveal not only the pile of pound notes that constituted the pot, but the missing letters. “I always like a man who pays his debts,” Gavin growled. Reaching inside, he ignored the money and took the letters. Then he retracted the blade, pocketed the fan, and thrust Stokely aside. “It’s been a pleasure, Stokely, but we must be on our way.”

Gavin scooped up the other packet of letters where Christabel had left them.

“What will you do with them?” Stokely asked, his voice less shaky now that he no longer had a blade at his throat.

But Gavin didn’t hear him. It had finally dawned on him what he held in his hand. Power. The power to hurt Prinny. The power to avenge his mother. If he had them published—

“Give the letters to me, Gavin,” Christabel whispered.

Her voice penetrated his consciousness, drawing his attention. He looked over to find the blood draining from her face.

She stretched her hand out to him. “Gavin, please, think what you’re doing.”

“Yes, think,” Stokely prodded with a malevolent smile. “You could ruin His Highness forever.”

“He could ruinhimself, ” she said hoarsely. “Be quiet, blast you.”

Himself. She was worried about him being ruined. Not her father or even her, buthim . Had any woman, other than his mother, ever considered him and his needs first? Or put his welfare and future ahead of her own?

The weight of that love rained down on his long-dried-up soul, renewing and restoring it, until he realized he had no choice but to honor it.

He stepped over to the fireplace, then looked at her again. “Yes?”

As always, she understood without his having to explain. She nodded. He tossed the letters into the fire, feeling peace steal over him as they burst into flame. One fire had begun his torment; it was only fitting that another should end it. Stokely shot up from his chair. “You’re insane! Do you know what those areworth ?”

“Yes. That’s why I burned them. As long as they’re intact, someone can and will use them.” Gavin flashed Christabel a rueful smile. “I can’t take the chance it might be me.”

Her heart shone in her answering smile, as wide and giving as any man could wish for in a sweetheart, a lover…a wife. Coming to his side, she stretched up to press a kiss to his mouth, then took his hand.

“Come, my love, I think it’s high time we go home.”

Home. He didn’t bother to ask if she meant his town house or hers, or even the estate at Bath. Because Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv it didn’t matter. From now on, home was wherevershe was.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Occasionally, a man will actually marry

his mistress, but that is rare enough as to

be remarkable.

—Anonymous,Memoirs of a Mistress

So much had happened that Christabel could scarcely believe it had been two weeks since Lord Stokely’s house party. First there’d been the quiet wedding at Gavin’s house in Bath, with his mother meeting his half brothers and their wives for the first time. Then she’d reported to His Highness about the outcome of the mission, though he didn’t yet know that the letters had gone up in smoke. She was waiting to revealthat until Gavin received his part of the bargain. She didn’t trust the prince any more than he did.

All week she’d been busy settling her household matters so she could move out of the Haversham town house and into her new husband’s. Not to mention planning for today’s ceremony. She glanced over at Gavin, who stared pensively out the window of the waiting room at Westminster Palace. Her heart swelled with love. What a dear he was. Marriage suited him.

“Clearly His Highness isn’t going to meet with me privately as he promised.” Gavin turned from the window to face her. “I knew he’d renege on that term of our agreement.”

She didn’t blame him for his skepticism. The ceremony to bestow his barony on him began in only thirty minutes. His half brothers were already inside, taking their seats with the rest of the lords.

“He’ll come.” Going to his side, she tapped his arm with her fan. “If he doesn’t, he’ll force me to use this.”

A faint smile touched his lips, the first in the past hour. “Assaulting a prince is a treasonous offense. You’d hang, my sweet.”

“Nonsense,” she teased. “How could he possibly hang the wife of his son?”

Gavin’s smile faded. “His son, whom he has yet to acknowledge and never will.” He took her hand in his. “At least he’s giving me the barony. That’s something, I suppose.”

But then the door opened, and His Highness entered. He’d kept his promise after all. Christabel dropped into a deep curtsy, but Gavin, for better or worse, just stood there and stared. He’d never met his father, had he? The very thought of not knowing one’s own father made her heart ache for him.

Especially when the prince said in a remotely formal voice, “Good afternoon, Mr. Byrne, Lady Haversham.”

“Mrs. Byrne,” she corrected him fiercely. “I’ve taken my new husband’s name.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv

“Ah, yes, I’d heard that the two of you were married. But I rather thought you’d prefer to continue going by Lady Haversham.”

Widows of high rank had a choice when they married a man of lower rank, and plenty of them chose to retain their loftier appellation. Christabel had been thrilled to rid herself of the title of marchioness.

“Of course,” His Highness went on, “you will shortly be able to don a new title—Lady Byrne.” The prince turned to Gavin. “You still wish to have Byrne as the name of the barony?”

Gavin nodded. “It’s the least I can do to honor my mother.”

At the mention of Sally Byrne, His Highness stiffened. “I suppose that’s why you wanted the private meeting with me. So you could blackmail me with the letters into admitting—”

“The letters are gone,” Gavin snapped. “I burned them.”

His Highness gaped at Gavin.

“Thatwas what you wanted, wasn’t it, Your Highness?” Christabel said hastily. “For them to disappear?”

“Of course, but—” The prince eyed Christabel skeptically. “Yousaw him burn them?”

“Yes. So did Lord Stokely and Lady Kingsley, if you need witnesses.”

His Highness’s expression shifted to one of incredulity. “Did Mr. Byrne know what was in them when he burned them?”

“He did, Your Highness. Yet he burned them right there before Lord Stokely’s very eyes.”

The prince released a long, heavy breath. “That would explain why Stokely fled the country.”

“Did he?” Gavin asked.

“Went to Paris. He wasn’t waiting to see what measures I’d take to ruin him.” His Highness gave Gavin a cold smile. “But he’ll find out eventually.” He paused to assess Gavin. “When you first agreed to this scheme, Mr. Byrne, you said you wanted to meet with me privately. Why?”

“Why do you think? Because I wanted—still want—something from you.”

“Oh?” the prince said stiffly. “The barony is not enough?”

“To repay him for how you treated his mother?” Christabel put in. “How you left him friendless to—”

“Hush, my love, it’s all right.” Gavin took her hand, rubbing his finger along her wedding ring, which matched his own. He turned to the prince. “You owe my mother an apology for many things, but especially for how you called her a whore to any who would listen. My mother didn’t deserve that. You and I both know she wasn’t one.” When the prince said nothing, he went on, “I don’t expect you to make a public declaration—I know that it wouldn’t be politically prudent. But among your friends—the ones who matter, the ones who gossip—I want you to set the matter straight.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv The prince inclined his head. “I suppose I could do that.”

“Secondly,” Gavin went on, “I expect you to fulfill your promise to pay her an annuity. I want you to pay it in full, going back to when you first stopped it, and continuing it until her death.”

Christabel blinked. She hadn’t heard about this.

The prince’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, Draker told me about your mother’s surviving the fire. He says you keep her comfortable at your estate at Bath, so I don’t see why she needs an annuity.”

“That isn’t the point,” Gavin ground out. “It’s the principle of the thing. So I want you to establish a charitable annuity in her name, to be paid to St. Bartholomew’s Hospital for indigent women. St. Bartholomew’s took care of her after the fire. And your establishing the annuity will show to the world that she wasn’t the sort of woman you made her out to be.”

“All right,” His Highness said, his expression showing that this new demand had caught him by surprise.

“Anything else?”

“No,” Gavin said tightly.

“One more thing, Your Highness,” Christabel put in. Her proud husband wouldn’t ask for himself, so she would askfor him. “After all that Gavin has been through, the least you can do is privately acknowledge him as your son.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Gavin told her. “I did what I did for you, not for him.”

“I know, darling. And I also know itdoes matter to you, in your heart.” She turned back to the prince, who was watching them with interest. “Please, Your Highness, just this once admit who he is.”

The prince let out a heavy sigh. “Of course you’re mine, Gavin. No one with eyes could ever doubt it.”

Then he stiffened. “And we will never speak of it again.”

“Of course not…Father,” Gavin retorted, clearly unable to pass up his one chance to annoy his sire.

“Don’t worry, I’ve lived this long without a father—I certainly don’t need one now.”

But his hand gripped hers, and his voice shook. He might not need a father—but he needed to know he had one.

“Speaking of fathers, I almost forgot,” the prince said, turning toward a nearby door that led to an adjoining room. “Come in, General. You were right—there was no treachery involved after all.”

“Treachery? What do you m—” Christabel broke off as a man stepped into the room. “Papa!” she cried, and ran to his side. “Papa, you’re here! You’re back!”

“Yes, dearling, I’m back.” As he enveloped her in his embrace, all the changes and difficulties of the past two months swamped her until she couldn’t restrain her tears. Her father gripped her tightly and said in a voice gruff with emotion, “There, there now, Bel-bel, since when does my brave little soldier cry?”

“You must forgive my wife,” Gavin said tersely. “She’s been worried sick about you.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv

“Oh, Papa,” she choked out, “I am so sorry…for everything. For showing Philip the letters…for betraying your trust—”

“Nonsense,” he whispered, “do not blame yourself. Your fool of a father should never have kept those letters in the first place.” He lifted his head from hers. “A point that His Highness has made abundantly clear.”

She turned a wary gaze to the prince. “You don’t mean to punish him, do you?”

“For serving England?” the prince said dryly. “Routing Napoleon? Protecting his regent? The country would probably take up arms against me if I did, especially since all is now well.”

“Then why did you mention treachery?” Gavin snapped.

Her father was the one to answer Gavin. “When His Highness heard that you were married, he assumed you had somehow coerced my daughter into sharing the content of the letters with you. And that the two of you meant to tender your own demands in exchange for them. As soon as I landed at Dover two days ago, he had men waiting to bring me to London to witness this meeting, so that if anything went wrong, I could coerce her into doing the right thing.”

“I take it His Highness doesn’t know my wife very well,” Gavin said. “I haven’t met a man or woman alive who could ‘coerce’ Christabel into anything.”

Her father eyed Gavin consideringly. “Still, she does have a kind heart, and it sometimes leads her to trust the wrong sort of man.”

As Gavin bristled, she left her father’s side to go to his. “Not this time, Papa.” She slipped her hand in Gavin’s. “I know that you have good reason for your concern, and until you know him better, you won’t believe me. But Gavin is the finest man I’ve ever known.”

Gavin squeezed her hand. “I swear I would never let harm come to your daughter, sir,” he said in the most solemn tone she’d ever heard out of him, except for perhaps when he’d spoken his wedding vows.

“And if you give me the chance, I’ll prove I can be a good husband to her.”

Papa looked at them together, his face wary but resigned. “We’ll see, Mr. Byrne. We’ll see.”

“The ceremony will begin in ten minutes,” the prince said. “Ladies are not allowed in the gallery, so you will have to wait here, Mrs. Byrne.”

“I’ll keep her company,” Papa said. “We have much to tell each other.”

“Yes,” she told her father, “but if you could give me a moment alone with my husband first before he goes in—”

“Of course.”

After he and the prince left, she turned toward Gavin, her heart swelling with pride. “So my wicked Prince of Sin is to be a baron, is he?” she whispered as she straightened his cravat and brushed a speck of lint off his fine black coat. “Your mother will be so happy.”

He gazed down at her tenderly. “As a wise woman once told me, my mother will be happy if I am Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv happy.”

“And are you happy?” she whispered.

“I was. Until you told your father that I’m the finest man you ever knew. Are you certain I can live up to that, darling?”

“I’ll make sure that you do,” she said lightly.

“And how do you mean to do that? By shooting at me?” Though his dry tone held a hint of the old Byrne, the bitter cynicism was gone.

“By loving you.”

His eyes darkened, and he kissed her, long and slow and tender. “Now that, my sweet, is a prospect worth reforming for.”

Epilogue

London

July 19, 1821

Marriage changes a man, and not always for the worse.

—Anonymous,Memoirs of a Mistress

The cannons and gunfire and other celebratory explosions had gone on all afternoon, which was why Gavin didn’t hear his butler’s approach until the man spoke.

“The first of the guests has arrived, my lord.”

Gavin had been a baron for five years and still couldn’t get used to being called “my lord.” “Thank you.”

He closed the account book for the Blue Swan and laid it aside on the desk in his study. Gone were the days when he spent hours at the club poring over the books. It was just as easy to do it at home, especially now that he’d hired a manager. Just as easy…and far more pleasant. His butler still stood nearby.

“Is there something else?” Gavin asked.

“Shall I inform her ladyship of the guests’ arrival?” the butler asked. “Or would you prefer to do it yourself?”

“She’s not down there already?”

“No, my lord. She was called to the nursery. Something about another Tweedledee emergency, I believe.” His butler was trying hard not to smile and failing miserably.

“I’ll fetch her,” Gavin said, chuckling. “You go explain to the guests about Tweedledee emergencies. If you can.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv The butler headed off downstairs, while Gavin went in the opposite direction. As he approached the nursery, he heard Christabel speaking in even tones. “I told you, your papa is too busy right now to decide who will be Tweedledum. He’ll do it later. And if you don’t behave, I’ll make you both Tweedledee.”

“Papa has to do it, or it doesn’t count,” answered a child’s voice. Smothering a laugh, he paused in the doorway to watch. As always, at the center of the family contretemps was his black-haired, four-year-old daughter, Sarah, who’d inherited her father’s deviousness and her mother’s temper. Toddling after her was his two-year-old son, John, whose hair already held a hint of red and whose stubborn insistence upon doing whatever his sister dictated had landed him in trouble more than once.

Trying futilely to reason with them was his wife. His beautiful, adorable wife, whom he loved more every day. And to think he’d almost thrown her away for some vengeance that would have brought him naught but grief.

“If you won’t let me do it,” she said, “then you’ll have to be patient and mind Nurse until after dinner—”

“It’s all right,” Gavin said as he entered the room. “I’m here.”

“Papa!” his children cried as they raced over to throw their arms about each of his legs. He swallowed the lump that stuck in his throat every time he looked down to see those faces light up with joy.

“Makeme Tweedledum, Papa,” Sarah cried.

“No,me, Papa,” John said.

He ruffled their hair. “If I make you both Tweedledum, will you stop plaguing your mother?”

He must have been mad when he’d first read them the nursery rhyme and encouraged them to play the parts. But who would have thought they’d turn it into the competition of the century?

“We can’t both be Tweedledum,” Sarah complained. “John has to be Tweedledee. He was Tweedledum last time.”

His son’s lower lip began to tremble. “John Tweedledum. Not Sarah. John.”

“That’s not fair!” Sarah protested.

Gavin hid a smile. “I tell you what—you can be Tweedledum for the first hour, and John can be Tweedledum for the second. All right?”

Sarah nodded solemnly, which meant that John instantly followed suit.

“Jane?” he said.

Their nurse came forward, her face filled with exasperation. “I’m sorry the children disturbed you and Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv my lady, but Miss Sarah ran downstairs to fetch her mother when my back was turned—”

“It’s all right. I know what a slyboots my daughter can be sometimes.”

“I wonder where she gotthat from,” Christabel muttered.

“Watch it, wife,” he teased, “or I’ll makeyou Tweedledee.”

“Mama can’t be Tweedledee,” Sarah said loftily. “She’s just Mama.”

When Christabel rolled her eyes, he stifled a chuckle. “Jane,” he said, “I hereby endow you with the authority to designate Tweedledums and Tweedledees. If either John or Sarah misbehaves while their mother and I are dining with our guests, you have my permission to turn them both into Tweedledees until they agree to behave themselves.”

“Very good, sir,” Jane retorted.

He cast his children a stern look. Or attempted to, anyway. “And if I hear one word about your giving Nurse any trouble, I’ll tell Grandmama Byrne and Grandpapa Lyon. They’ll be very disappointed to hear how their grandchildren are behaving.” He turned to offer Christabel his arm. “Shall we, my love?”

She took it, but as soon as they’d left the room, she said in a low voice, “Tell Grandmama Byrne and Grandpapa Lyon, indeed. As if that would do anything—they spoil the children almost as much as you do.”

“Every child deserves some spoiling,” he said.

She glanced up at him with a soft smile as they headed down the stairs. “Yes, I suppose they do.”

“But I wish I knew why they consider Tweedledee to be ‘bad’ and Tweedledum ‘good.’ In the bloody nursery rhyme, the two are interchangeable.”

Christabel chuckled. “Ah, but they’re children, Gavin. Logic doesn’t enter into it. Sarah decided that Tweedledum sounds like drums, so she associates it with Grandpapa’s tales of battle. Whereas, according to her, Tweedledee is the sound a bird makes, and that’s just ‘silly.’”

“And if Sarah says it, John follows right behind.”

“That won’t last once he’s old enough to assert himself, I suspect.”

He laughed. “True, true.” They’d reached the next floor and were heading for the staircase that led down to the drawing room when he suddenly pulled her into an alcove and kissed her hard. As he drew back, she was staring at him, bemused. “What wasthat for?”

“For marrying me. For giving me two beautiful children.” He settled his hands on her waist. “For believing in me when no one else in their right mind would have.”

It was her turn to kisshim, her mouth so warm and sweet that their kiss soon erupted into something hotter. This time when he drew back, her face was flushed, and her breath came in little staccato gasps that only enflamed him further.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv

“We don’t have to go downstairs right away,” he murmured. “We could keep them waiting a few minutes more.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she warned, pushing him out into the hall and tugging him toward the stairs. “You know what happened the last time we kept your brothers waiting. We never heard the end of their teasing. ‘So, Byrne, did you and Christabel get lost on the way down? Perhaps we should send you a floor plan for next time. The drawing room is the one thatdoesn’t have a bed.’”

He laughed at her fairly accurate imitation of Iversley. “Point taken. My brothers are idiots.”

She snorted. “You’re as bad as they are with your swaggering answers.”

“You do know we only say such things to make our wives blush.”

“Yes, I know very well the whole lot of you are wicked scoundrels.”

Yet despite her grumbling, she’d never wavered in her faith in his character. She’d never been the clinging, distrustful woman she’d threatened to be as his mistress. And oddly enough, her trust in him made him even more determined not to disappoint her.

He bent to press a kiss to her ear. “That’s why you never find us boring.”

She gazed up at him with an earnest expression. “Do you ever miss your old life, Gavin?”

“You mean my whining mistresses, long, lonely nights at the club with drunken cardplayers, parties at Stokely’s where I had to be on my guard against treachery every waking hour—”

“That’s a no, I take it,” she said with a small smile.

“A definite no.”

They’d reached the drawing room now, but he paused outside the doors to take her hands in his.

“Never doubt for one minute that I love my life, I love my children, and I love you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she replied, her own love shining in her eyes. “But we’d better go in. I amnot going to be fodder for their teasing again.”

“I’m not sure you can ever entirely avoid that. You’re married tome , after all, and it will be some years before my brothers stop making me eat crow for the many times I swore never to marry.”

How true it was. The minute they walked in, Draker hailed them with a smug smile. “You know, Byrne, once you marry, your appetite is supposed to decrease, not increase.”

“And how’s that working for you?” Gavin shot back, as one of his footmen offered him a glass of wine.

“Here we go again,” Christabel murmured under her breath.

But then a cannon shot from outside the window made them start.

“They’ve been at it all day,” Iversley said, gesturing to the window with his own glass of wine. “Prinny Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv has been ruling for years already, yet you’d never know it to hear them.”

“Did you attend the coronation?” Gavin asked Draker.

“I did. The Queen turned it into a damned fiasco.”

“One thing you can say for Prinny.” Gavin remarked, “He’s never boring.”

“Rather like his sons,” Christabel said from beside him.

Gavin smiled. “Yes. Exactly.” He took a glass of wine from the footman and handed it to her, then lifted his own. “On this day, of all days, we need a toast, don’t you think, gentlemen?”

“Absolutely.” Iversley lifted his glass, and said, “To the Royal Brotherhood of By-blows.”

They echoed the toast as one, even the ladies.

As they drank, Gavin looked round at the men who’d truly become his brothers and at their wives, who would walk through fire for one of their own. Just like his mother. Just like his own wife. He stared down at Christabel, who was beaming at him, her face brimming with love. He raised his glass again. “And to our royal sire. Long live the king.”

Author’s Note

Rumor has it that George IV and Maria Fitzherbert did indeed have a son, James Ord, who was given to a ship’s captain and his family to raise, first in Spain, where the captain was given a job as a dockyard inspector by George’s brother, then in America. Supposedly James Ord wrote Mrs. Fitzherbert once to ask if she was his mother. She never replied. And with good reason—since her “marriage” to the prince had always been disputed, if she’d admitted to having a child by him, it would have seriously damaged the prince’s chance to be king. England could not afford any more disputes over successions. At the time of my story, Princess Charlotte had indeed broken her engagement with the Prince of Orange, but at this point was already considering Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, whom she married in 1816. So she definitely wouldn’t have liked being forced to marry Lord Stokely!

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