Page 52 of Her Notorious Rake
Uncle Ernest grabbed him by the arm and led him to a dark study down the hall, where he kicked the door shut behind them.
“You wish to ruin her, don’t you?” Uncle Ernest rasped, setting down the candle and advancing upon Dalton. “Don’t you?” he boomed, shaking his hand.
“You arranged this whole thing, did you not?” Dalton fought the urge to grasp the older man by the shirtfront, send him sprawling to the floor. It would be wonderfully satisfying. “You did. I know you did.”
“You have none but yourself to condemn.” Uncle Ernest glared at him. He jabbed a finger into Dalton’s chest. “Admit it.”
“I’ll admit to no such thing,” Dalton cried. “I never cared for Celeste as anything more than—”
But Uncle Ernest waved his hand. “You’ve led her to believe you mean to wed her. And now you’ve just shown the wholeworld your true intentions, haven’t you?”
Dalton stared. “That’s nothing but a lie and you know it.”
“Do I?” Ernest shouted, his tone mocking. “I saw it with my own eyes, and Celeste is beside herself.”
Dalton turned to go but his uncle called out, “If you wish to ever show your face in London Society again, you will marry her. Save both your reputation and hers.”
Dalton kept walking, vision going red.
“Think of your mother. What would she say, should she learn of your indiscretion?”
“She’ll know—”
“Will she? I should hope so. Though you’ve given everyone quite good reason to believe that you are a rake. And that is all. Why should anyone think differently? Don’t you know how your actions grieve Adelaide?”
Dalton turned, glaring at his uncle, contempt for the man boiling inside him.
“Let Miss Hayesworth marry Lord Neville. Her family would never approve of you as a suitor for her, not after this. If you wish to at leastattemptto salvage the Blakemore name, you will let Miss Hayesworth go, and marry Celeste. For both of your sakes. For your mother’s.”
Dalton closed his eyes, his throat tight with a helpless outrage that threatened to choke him. “I’m going out,” he at last muttered, before tearing out of the room, down the stairs, and back out the front door. Behind him, Uncle Ernest railed for him to stay, not to walk out the door. But Dalton didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything any longer. For as much as he despised the man, he knew his uncle was right.
Gemma would never marry him after this. She would never be able to trust him, to open her heart to him, now that he had shattered it. Even if none of this was his doing, he had already set himself on this course at high speed, with his carousing, hisreckless lifestyle. And if he couldn’t marry Gemma, he couldn’t imagine marrying anyone else for love.
He made his way to the gentlemen’s rooms several streets over, and once there, he sank down in a private alcove and ordered a whiskey. His first whiskey in weeks.
***
Gemma sat in the windowsill she’d begun to love, that overlooked the busy street in front of her aunt’s home. She perched here, Udolpho in her arms, when Prudence called and was allowed by Aunt Philippa to visit her. She called Gemma softly, causing Gemma to start and turn, blinking her aching eyes.
“Oh, Prudence,” she whispered, setting her chin back down on her arms folded atop her knees. “Forgive me, I’m not in the best of spirits today.”
“I’ve heard what occurred at the Neville soiree. Your aunt told me of it. As did Lady Neville herself.”
“I know I behaved so dreadfully abominable there. I just had to leave. I couldn’t stay. I just couldn’t.”
“I know.” Prudence put her arms around Gemma’s trembling shoulders in a fierce hug. “I know.”
Gemma sniffled, tears running down her cheeks, unbidden. But it seemed as if the last night and day she’d spent lost in a daze. Wishing that this was just a nightmare. But it had happened. It had truly happened.
“I’ve been so foolish, Prudence,” she choked. “I ought to have listened to my aunt. She told me. She said that—that—”
Prudence gently hushed her. “You strove to see the best in him,” she said with a small shrug, a sad smile. “That is the most you could do, Gemma.”
“It was all merely a game for him.” Gemma gulped, sinking down upon her bedroom settee.
“Perhaps, but you’ve done nothing that will have a lasting effect on your repute. You have not entangled yourself into any sort of liaison with him, have you?”
“That is right,” Gemma could barely speak around the lump in her throat “I know.”
