Page 27 of The Gentleman's Seduction
Harris’s eyes widened. “Oh? And what of Miss Hartwell?”
“She shall remain here. You may serve her meals in her chamber. She is not to go out, nor to have anyone come to call. Is that understood?”
“Yes, yes of course, sir.” Harris waved a footman over to him. “Shall we have your coach brought round?”
“Yes. I’ll be in my study. Fetch me when it arrives.” He left the hall and entered his study, scowling at the sight of his desk. The ink spill had been cleaned, his letters fixed, and yet he could still feel Livvy in his arms as he kissed her, could still see the impish grin on her face as she teased him. She’d been fiery and warm and adorable, but something had changed.
She called me cold and callous.
The words still clung to him like sharp briars, prickling him sharply. He hadn’t thought he’d been harsh, at least not today or the day before. How was he to know? He left his heart buried so deep that it was entirely possible she was mistaking his need to be distant as being cold and cruel.
But he couldn’t,wouldn’tchange, not even for her. He was not about to develop feelings for the daughter of the man who’d killed his mother and destroyed his life. That simply could not happen. He would enjoy Livvy’s company, and more if she allowed it, but to develop romantic notions for her? No. She was the last woman on earth he could fall for. And she would never fall in love with him either. The sense of obligation because of her father’s debt would always hang between them.
Even if he somehow found a way around his hatred for her father, his twin sister would see it as a betrayal. And he had to protect Helen. He’d failed to once before and had almost lost her. He could not fail her again. He wasn’t sure how long he sat in his chair with his thoughts a decade in the past, before he realized his footman stood in the doorway, hat and coat in hand.
“Your coach is ready, sir.”
“Thank you.” Martin rose and donned his coat. He strode to the front door and, with a nod to Harris, left the townhouse.
Martin settled into his coach and closed his eyes as the vehicle rocked forward. He could spend the night at Brooks’s and give himself some space, perhaps. It would be good for the both of them. He would protect himself, and Livvy would learn that her words and actions would have consequences. Just as her father’s actions had consequences.
When he reached Brooks’s at number 60 on St. James’s Street, he felt as if he’d aged a dozen years. This morning when they had gone riding, he felt like the day had ended well and Livvy was willing to share his bed. He had not planned on being driven to his club in a black mood. He noted the flurry of excitement in the gaming halls as he entered. The club was well known for its high stakes. Fortunes would be made by some and lost by others. He lingered only a moment in the doorway, watching the young bucks cast their fates with the cards. He wondered who the high flyers would be tonight. A young lad, one of many who served at Brooks’s, collected his hat and coat.
“May I do anything else for you, sir?” the lad asked.
“See if there’s a room open tonight. If there is, reserve it for me. My account is under the name Martin Banks.”
“I’ll see to it, sir.” The boy rushed off. Martin left the main corridor and headed for the meeting rooms, but he froze when he heard Hartwell’s name being bandied about.
“Hartwell owes you two thousand?” the man asked his companion.
Martin hesitated, lingering in the shadows as he listened to the two gentlemen standing at the end of the hall by the gaming room they’d been in moments before.
“He does, and I have half a mind to collect in another way.” The second man laughed. He was perhaps Martin’s age or a few years older, but there was a cruel twist to his lips.
“What do you mean to do, Stamford?” the first man asked.
Lord Stamford?Martin inwardly cringed. The man was rumored to be a bounder who had little respect for women and animals.
“Hartwell has a daughter. A ripe little peach, or so I hear. If he wants to avoid debtor’s prison, he can give her to me. I heard another fellow bought her off him not too long ago for a debt. Shouldn’t be too hard to do the same, assuming that other man hasn’t worn out her usefulness.” Stamford laughed cruelly.
Martin’s stomach turned violently. This man was a dark mirror image of himself. He’d taken Livvy just as this man planned to. He was no better than Stamford, except that he would let Livvy come to his bed, rather than force her. But that gave him no comfort in this moment. He swallowed hard, tasting bile as he tried not to think about how he and this wretched man were alike.
“Been a while since you had a bit of muslin, eh?” the first gentleman said with a snicker.
“Not that long, but I need a good chit to shove on her back for a few hours each day, and a sweet little creature like that…” Stamford groaned in delight, and his friend laughed.
Martin’s vision colored red as he stormed toward the two men. He lunged at Stamford and slammed him against the wall. Hitting him felt good, cathartic in a way Martin didn’t want to think about.
“How dare you speak like that!” he shouted.
“What the devil are you talking about?” Stamford curled his hands in fury and then punched Martin in the face.
He took the blow hard, grunting as his left eye was struck. He let go of Stamford for just a moment.
“You touch Miss Hartwell and I will kill you.” He couldn’t take back what he’d done to Livvy by taking her away from her home, but he could save her from a man like this.
Stamford puffed up. “Oh? You fancy her as well?” He started to straighten his waistcoat, but Martin lunged for him again.
