Page 38 of Her Notorious Rake
“Cruel? You know nothing of cruelty. Of how cruel this world can be,” he snarled.
She shot to her feet, lips trembling. “I’m doing everything I can. But he shows me nothing but contempt.”
“Because you bore him. You must learn him. Learn what interests him, study him. You have done nothing of the sort as of yet, and your connection with him suffers as a result.”
“And he bores me,” Celeste cried. “He is so serious, andstern. And always gazing at everyone and everything with such contempt. Except for Miss—”
Ernest held up a trembling finger. “I pray that you do not say that woman’s name again.”
“Miss Hayesworth,” Celeste sneered. “He’s in love with Miss Hayesworth. And I’m tired of this ruse, Uncle.” She leapt to her feet, stamping her foot.
“You aretiredof this ruse?” Ernest balled his hands into fists. The girl was a dullard, no doubt of that. No foresight, no vision. No true understanding of how dire a situation it was that they found themselves in. He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. “This ruse is to secure you a place in London Society. To secure your offspring a place. Or would you prefer to wed a destitute merchant who barely scrapes a living together.” He grasped her face between his hands, holding it up firmly so she could not move away. “Do you not understand that, girl?”
She began to sob anew. He released her and she staggered to her bed, throwing herself upon it. “Quiet,” he whispered urgently. “Do you wish to wake the whole house?”
“Oh, Uncle. What if I should fail?”
“You shan’t.” He crossed the room, perching on the edge of her bed. Stroked her golden curls. He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh. He would have to employ more ruthless tactics, if he was to see a union between Celeste and Dalton.
“We must take a more…severe…approach, I am afraid.”
Celeste trembled beneath his hand, and lifted her head at last. “You truly mean—”
“To entrap him. He cannot possibly refuse if he is seen in a compromising position. Even better, it would behoove us for the rustic Miss Hayesworth to witness it. He would never be able to reconcile with her should she behold you and him…” Ernest searched for the right word, “…embracing.”
“Oh Uncle, I—”
Ernest placed a finger against his niece’s lips to hush her. “Destitute? Or Blakemore Manor, with a country estate in Derbyshire, and trips to Bath every year?”
Celeste drew in a shaking breath and closed her eyes. And she nodded. “I cannot abide being destitute,” she said faintly. “The mere thought of it makes me ill.”
“Very well then. Before long we will secure him.” He patted her hand, with its whitened knuckles, gripping the bed coverlet.
Celeste sniffled, sitting up, and wiped her eyes. “Yes, Uncle.”
“Good girl,” he kissed her cheek and rose to depart. “You get some sleep. Tomorrow is a new day. We shall start again. Understood?”
“Yes, Uncle,” Celeste stared down at the coverlet, her face flushed from her violent weeping.
Ernest hurried out into the corridor, shutting the door softly behind him. He would need to strike at the precisely perfect moment. The moment that would deliver the most impressive impact. In the meantime, Ernest needed to send the physician a note regarding Adelaide. More severe measures needed to be taken with her. Lately, he’d been waiting on tenterhooks for her to bring up the other day, when she’d surprised him in the library.
A stronger tonic would keep her in a subdued, confused state. This close to his objective, he couldn’t risk it all fleeing from his grasp.
***
Dalton set out on a walk, although the sun had set hours ago, and it wasn’t exactly safe for a gentleman of his stature. But he carried with him a chalcedony cane, with its dagger hidden in its core. Perfect for walks such as these. Anyhow, a constable was always out and about in this neighborhood, so he didn’t need tofear much. He set out without a destination in mind, but at the juncture where he usually turned to the left to head towards the West End, where he’d find some of the finer drinking places in London, tonight he turned right instead.
He walked blindly, feet pounding the cobblestones fast and hard as he rambled onward, candle lamps blurring past. The rumble of carriages on the road faded into the back of his consciousness, and he bumped into passers-by several times, earning their exasperated glances and exclamations.
Muttering apologies, he moved onward. Gemma haunted him. Her bright hazel eyes, her sweet smile, her wit. He wanted to cry out.
When he at last slowed his pace and came to a stop, he realized he’d reached Theodore’s home. He pulled his silver watch from his pocket to check the hour.Nearly midnight.He’s certainly asleep.
But Dalton needed to speak to someone about this. About the whirling confusion within surrounding his draw to Gemma. He had never counted on this happening, and certainly not with someone like her. In fact, he hardly knew girls like her existed. The epitome of everything he’d been searching for, everything he didn’t know he wanted.
Chapter 19
Theodore rubbed his eyes as he appeared in the drawing room doorway after ten minutes with tousled hair and wrinkled shirt paired with a black silk waistcoat and house slippers. He squinted at Dalton, who had been shown in by the butler. “Good heavens, Dalton! What are you doing up and about at this hour? Don’t tell me you’ve been—”
