Page 49 of Wicked Designs
Godric brushed his thumb over the smooth opal and pearl, imagining it nestled in the waves of auburn gold hair. He would savor the moment of removing it at night when she climbed into his bed. Her hair would cascade down in a waterfall of color.
He was acting like a young man again, uncertain as to how to win a woman. How many years had passed since he and his friends had schemed about the best way to capture a girl’s heart?
Godric selected a hairbrush to match the comb, then handed the shopkeeper a leather dog collar with a silver name plate to have it engraved for Penelope. Once the items were ready, he and Ashton departed.
It was time to pay a visit to Albert Parr.
Parr’s sallow-faced butler showed them in with the stiffest and most unwelcoming behavior. He merely stepped aside for them, then led them down the hall.Godric frowned at the unkempt surroundings. He ran a gloved finger along the nearest banister, and his brow creased at the smudge of gray dust that marred his glove. The house was only a few streets away from Park Lane, yet it was clear that the employment and supervision of servants was not Albert Parr’s primary concerns.
“Poor Emily,” Ashton muttered under his breath. “Not exactly a warm place to live.”
Godric growled. “My Emily belongs in a palace, with silk sheets and a thousand servants.”
Ashton cocked an eyebrow at him. “You mean she belongs in a place like Essex House?”
Godric silently contemplated the comment. “For the moment, yes.”
“Why not longer? Say…forever?”
“What would I do with her, Ash?”
“Woo her. She’ll not long be an unplucked fruit, my friend. Wouldn’t you rather it be you than some scoundrel like Blankenship? She deserves a man who would be tender and passionate with her.”
“But what then? I’ve ruined her reputation. Am I to marry her and live happily ever after? You know better than that.” The people he loved had either left him or betrayed him. He didn’t want either with Emily.
“Isn’t that what reformed rakes are supposed to do?”
“Who said I was reformed?”
Ashton merely smiled.
Neither man said anything more as the manservant led them to Parr’s study. Emily’s weasel of an uncle was reading some letters, bent over his desk. He glanced up, and then did a double take.
Rather than treat a duke and a baron with deserving deference, Parr rose reluctantly to his feet.
“What took you so long?”
Godric stared him down until the man added, “Your Grace.”
Godric’s fists clenched sharply at his sides. He had the oddest sense he was being played. “I would like to discuss my investment with you.” He and Ashton approached Parr’s desk, bearing down on him with scowls that would have sent any other man fleeing, as though the devil himself was on his heels.
Parr settled back into his chair, eyeing them. “Is that what you call my niece, Your Grace?”
“Oh? You have a niece?” Godric smiled but the warmth of it did not reach his eyes. “Ashton, did you hear that? Parr has a niece. How lovely.”
“You are a terrible liar, Your Grace. I know that it was you who spirited Emily away.” He stepped to his right, as if he planned to come around the desk, but then thought better of it. “Mr. Blankenship had no luck finding her, I understand, but I am sure you stuffed her in your cellar, or perhaps a cupboard. I imagine you had no reservations about doing so.” Parr’s thin lips stretched into a smile, one as cool as Godric’s.
“Where’s my money?”
“Your money is gone. I spent all of it paying off creditors, which you are well aware. There is nothing left for you to seize and sell in this house or I would give it to you. I also owe Mr. Blankenship a great deal more. Emily was my last bargaining piece. But of course, you already knew that as well, which is why you took her.”
“She’s not a piece to be bargained. She’s a woman!” Godric slammed his hand flat on Parr’s desk. Ashton put a steadying hand on his shoulder.
“If she’s not something to bargain for, then why did you take her? If there has been some guileful behavior in my use of your investment, let us at least be honest and admit this dishonesty now runs both ways.” Parr replied.
He wanted to leap across the desk and strangle the life out of Parr. But the urge had to fight with his own guilt. It was true. He was no better than Parr. He had not cared one wit that his actions would destroy her reputation. He’d counted on it. He’d laughed at the idea, thinking it all a game.
He was as much a villain as her uncle.
