Page 37 of A Gentleman's Wager
And this time Lucerne would not prevent him from breaking Pennerley’s perfect bloody nose. He was under no doubt about the marquis’s involvement. This was precisely the sort of spiteful, hurtful nonsense he’d concoct. T’was only a wonder that Louisa hadn’t been spirited here also to witness his downfall. There had never been a fouler man, a more vexing, soulless stain upon humanity.
“You truly wish me to go?” the wench said.
Wakefield responded with another nod, at which point she huffed, then strutted off, hips swinging. The moment the church door closed behind her, he sagged onto the nearest pew. Above him, the angels smiled down serenely from the vaulted ceiling. What the devil was he going to do? He was in this situation because he was caught in a conundrum.
If he proposed to Louisa, it would come to naught. It would prove embarrassing for her and subject him to public humiliation. Her family would never allow it and she was a way off her independence. And even supposing her aunt did somehow agree, and they actually married, he’d still be jeered at. They’d say he’d used her to fund his next commission.
The alternative though, abandoning the notion of a future with her… that… it was equally impossible. He closed his eyes, punch drunk at the very thought of it. It’d be like dying from a belly wound, long, agonising and… Jesus, he didn’t know if he had the mettle for it. It’d break her heart, and while he could just about comprehend smashing his own, he could not conceive of willingly hurting her.
-24-
Lucerne
From their vantage point, nestled behind some very convenient gravestones, three pairs of eyes watched Wakefield and the wench through the windows. Charles’s were bulging. Joshua’s—who’d successfully delivered the dame—showed amusement, while Lucerne’s were narrowed to slits.
As for Vaughan, he’d wandered off. The four of them had planned and plotted this escapade together, but if Lucerne was honest, he was rueful about his involvement now the act was in progress. When the girl emerged having despoiled Wakefield with no more than few kisses and some idle groping, Lucerne took himself off in search of Vaughan.
He found his friend leaning against a tilted gravestone, close to the drystone wall that separated the churchyard from the mist-swaddled moors. He was staring up through the branches of a denuded tree at the opaque night sky.
“Are you all right?”
Vaughan’s gaze shifted side-wards and flickered over Lucerne. There was a sad smile upon his parted lips, which made him look ever so slightly fragile. Concerned, Lucerne moved a step closer. “What is it?”
Vaughan reached out and touched him tenderly with his long fingers. The caress was so soft it barely registered against the skin, but Lucerne felt the undercurrent right through his body. Numbed by it, he watched in a trance as Vaughan leaned forwards and brought his lips to meet Lucerne’s own. Here was the bid he’d anticipated at their reunion.
Anger, excitement and fear sparked where their lips met. Bewildered, Lucerne simply accepted the kiss. The fierceness of Vaughan’s passion burned him and rippled through his tensed body, adding to his confusion. The first stirrings of lust played around his loins. Only when he felt the other man’s tongue dart between his lips and flick against his own tongue did he push him away.
“No!”
He stared at the grass, unable to meet Vaughan’s gaze. They couldn’t.
He couldn’t.
“Lucerne, remember how it can be.” Vaughan reached out to him again, but Lucerne stepped back warily and raised his arms to ward off the intimacy. He set his jaw and met the other man’s gaze. For an instant, he saw desire and intense pain in the dilated pupils, then the window to Vaughan’s soul snapped closed and all that was left was his own cold glare reflected back at him. They regarded each other silently, not quite knowing what to say.
“I…”
“No,” said Lucerne. It was impossible. Madness to even contemplate it.
Vaughan bowed his head, then turned and walked away.
Lucerne watched him fade into the mist. He staggered drunkenly around the headstones for several minutes, his mind awash with conflicting thoughts. It’d been foolish to imagine that their past wouldn’t intrude upon the present, and this time, there was nowhere for him to run. Sooner or later, they would have to speak plainly about it, if only he could cage his emotions long enough to do it without feeling as if he were slicing off pieces of his own flesh.
Lucerne returned to the lichgate, where he was soon joined by the others. Wakefield grunted something offensive at them, which they all laughed off. Then, Lucerne saw him clench his fists and turn a hate filled glare at Vaughan, hence promptly admitted the joke was ill-conceived and took responsibility for its inception. That cooled matters a little, at least enough for them to fall into step with one another to head home.
He did wish Charles would stop wittering on about what Freddy ought to have done though. His imaginings were frankly, gross. Freddy kept his head down and turned his collar up. And still, Charles trooped behind him berating him for not covering her heavenly bosom in pearlescent dew. At the fork in the lane, they wished Joshua goodnight, then he turned towards Wyndfell and the rest of them to Lauwine. They walked in silence from that point. Lucerne found his thoughts too tumultuous for conversation.
It was on the final approach along Lauwine’s long rhododendron-shrouded driveway that Vaughan picked up the pace and broke away from the group. Lucerne lengthened his stride too. He’d reacted badly, probably owed Vaughan an apology of some sort, but whatever he’d meant to say evaporated when he opened his mouth to communicate it. “Vaughan, I…”
His oldest friend pursed his lips. He didn’t speak, though a tic fired in his clenched jaw.
“I’m… I’m sorry.”
Vaughan regarded him, expression frozen into a mask of indifference. As Charles and Freddy emerged from the fog to climb the steps, he melted away. Meanwhile, Lucerne snapped to attention like a solider on parade. “Gentlemen.” He added a curt nod. “Goodnight.”
He did not linger, even when Charles grumbled that they were all for their beds. In the master bedroom, Lucerne settled against the feather pillows still agitated.
Wakefield was smarting, and things would inevitably be strained between himself and Vaughan until… until what? They settled what it was they wanted from one another? There were no easy answers to that. In the meantime, Wakefield would be thrilled they’d fallen out. He and Vaughan had never liked one another and their most recent spat at the ball was still fresh in everyone’s minds.
