Page 53 of Taming of the Rake
“You are different, Powell.”
“Am I? I’m bigger than you, certainly stronger. I could strangle you with one hand right now, and you’d be powerless to stop me. Last I looked, I still have a cock, which can be its own sort of weapon and well you know it.”
Despite the sinister nature of those words, Regina didn’t feel an inkling of fear. “You would never hurt me.”
“Why do you think that?” he prodded, taking a step toward her, then another. “I’m a man, aren’t I?”
“But you aren’t …”
He gave her a significant look when she trailed off, realizing where his round of questioning had led her. “I am not Randolph Hurst. It’s like I said already … neither is Graham.”
It seemed like a logical enough conclusion, yet its impact affected her differently this time. It weakened her resolve, and she crumbled back into her chair, shoulders sagging as she succumbed to the first wave of tears. Powell’s big hand appeared in her periphery, a white handkerchief held between his fingers.
“There are many men in the world who would hurt a sweet, delicate little thing like you,” he said, crouching at her feet. “I will not lie to you and say there aren’t. The thought of anyone else treating you as Hurst did is one of the reasons I’ve stayed. The other being that I have a great deal of affection for you.”
Regina dabbed at her eyes and gave him a smile, though it was shaky. “You know I feel the same way.”
“Then I hope you’ll excuse my impudence just this once, and listen to me. If you never want to wed again because you value your independence and want to raise this babe alone, then I am happy for you. I will serve you, and care for that child just as I care for you. But I am a servant, and there are voids in you that I can’t fill. If you’re avoiding a second marriage out of fear, then I cannot stand by and allow that without telling you I think you’re making a grave mistake. Graham may need your money, and the child in your belly might have made him feel responsible for you, but I believe there’s more to it than that. I suspect you believe that, too.”
“How can I trust it?” she whispered. “It was difficult enough to trust him with my person. But … all the rest? Powell, I’m so afraid.”
“Do you love him?”
She closed her eyes, all the air vacating her lungs as she grappled with that question.Didshe love David? Thinking back over their time together, she could see things so clearly. He put her at ease, but it was more than that. He made her laugh and smile, and had reminded her how it felt to have hope. Regina had thought herself in love with Randolph because he was handsome and charming, but she’d been young and naïve then. With all her life experience having taught her what love wasn’t, it should be easy enough for her to recognize what itwas.
She had allowed herself to be fooled once; stoicism and iciness seemed like effective defenses against ever being tricked again. So, she kept her guard up to protect herself—only, it hadn’t worked. David had worked his way past her defenses, making it impossible for her to deny what had begun happening between them weeks ago.
Love. One small word that had caused her a world of hurt in her youth. She still carried the internal scars, and even a few outer ones.
“I thought I lovedhim. He told me he loved me, and I believed him.”
“I’m not asking you about Hurst. Forget him. He’s dead, and good riddance. Graham … do you love him?”
Powell waited for her answer with a furrowed brow, and he leaned in slightly as if anticipating her answer.
“Yes. I do love him, and that terrifies me most of all, because … what if he doesn’t love me back?”
One large, thick finger swiped at her cheek, and Powell’s mouth curved at one corner. “What’s not to love? Besides, it seems fairly obvious to me. A blind man could see he’s mad for you.”
Was Powell right? Had he noticed what Regina hadn’t wanted to see? David hadn’t mentioned love when proposing marriage, but then she hadn’t given him a chance to fully express his thoughts. She had been so intent on keeping him from getting too close, she never stopped to realize the battle had been lost already.
And yet, fear was still such a powerful force. It whispered nefarious warnings through the darkest corners of her mind.
“What if you’re wrong?”
Powell stood and shrugged, turning to go back to his corner of the room. “What if I’m right?”
As it turned out,being in the presence of his friends had the opposite effect on David’s mood that he’d hoped for. Honestly, he ought to have known better. After all, among the five original courtesans, he and Benedict were the only ones who weren’t blissfully in love and newly married. Aubrey, Hugh, and Dominick were so nauseatingly happy that it only reminded David how miserable he was.
Upon arriving in London, he had been invited to take a guestroom at Hugh and Evelyn’s townhouse, which he accepted for lack of his own residence and the need to conserve his funds. Two days into his visit he had been driven out of his mind. The newlywed couple—who were also expectant parents—were so adorable together David’s teeth ached from mere proximity to such sweetness. Hugh doted on Evelyn in a way that surpassed even his usual attentiveness, which reminded anyone in their company of his wife’s delicate condition. While the drape of her gowns hid any evidence, David couldn’t help but think of Regina whenever he set eyes on his friend’s wife.
How long before Regina’s belly began to swell, making her unsteady on her feet? Would Powell remain nearby to make sure she didn’t overtax herself, or fall down the stairs, or knock into things? Who would send for the physician if something went wrong, or comfort her when she was ill? Hugh did all these things for Evelyn, taking her arm on the stairs even when she insisted she didn’t need his help, forcing her to sit and prop her feet up when he felt she had been standing too long, rushing to tend her when her maid came to report that her mistress was feeling ill. He’d even waited in a line of carriages at Gunter’s for two hours because Evelyn craved a specific flavor of ice, and apparently no substitute would do.
Yes, accepting their offer of a room had been ill-advised. But where else was he to go? Aubrey and Lucinda were fresh home from their wedding trip to Venice, and they had begun applying themselves to the husband hunt on behalf of their young niece. Nick and Calliope were just as giddy after their honeymoon in Paris, and Dominick was perhaps the worst of all the new husbands. He called his wife ‘goddess’ and acted as if the sun shined out of her arse—quite a bewildering turn of events considering his past reputation.
David might have retreated to Benedict’s house, but for some reason being in the company of someone who was as bitter on matters of love was just as unappealing.
His first night in London had been marked by a dinner at Nick and Calliope’s house, over which there were toasts to the new marriages and the impending birth of Hugh and Evie’s baby. The afternoon following, the men had spent the afternoon at Gentleman Jacksons, during which Benedict had pummeled every last one of them. The women had joined them for a night at the theater, where they sat in Benedict’s private box and pretended not to notice the stares and whispers. Most of the time, Benedict’s and Aubrey’s presence were enough to gain quite a bit of attention, but this time David suspected it was Nick and Calliope who caused the uproar.
