A Gentleman's Wager (29 page)

‘Do it.’ The young man cocked the pistol. Pryce picked up his quill but hesitated before putting it to the paper. ‘Start writing. You will also explain that you have been forced to close her accounts here, until she makes sufficient funds over to you to cover her losses. Unfortunately, you are unable to discuss the matter with her in person, as you are making a long-overdue visit to relatives in Scotland for the foreseeable future. That should suffice.’

‘But … but …’

‘Do as you are told, old man.’

Pryce hurriedly scribbled down the letter in his distinctive spidery scrawl, turned it for the other man to read and then reluctantly added his signature to the bottom, feeling rather sickened with himself. The Stanleys had always been good to him. They had kept their money with him even when the larger banks had tried to force him and his partner out of business. The man folded the letter and commanded him to address it to Miss Stanley at Lauwine Hall.

‘Now, Mr Pryce, since I cannot rely on you to take yourself to Scotland for a month or so, you will kindly accompany me.’

‘Yes, Charles, what can I do for you?’ Lucerne’s tone was clipped and disapproving. Charles had burst into his study without any invitation. He was scruffy and
unshaven
, and stood trembling as if from drink or fever. ‘Speak up, man!’

‘Pennerley! He’s going to kill me,’ spluttered Charles in one breath. He peered anxiously at Lucerne, who was watching him in the mirror while he smoothed his hair.

‘I’m sure he won’t.’

‘Lucerne,’ pleaded Charles. He ran around the desk and stood between Lucerne and the mirror. ‘Please, I just need some money; about twenty pounds will do.’

‘Sorry, Charles, I can’t give it to you. We’ve already been through this.’ Lucerne watched the other man’s face drain of colour and had to admit he appeared to be on the verge of collapse. ‘It’s no use begging. I don’t approve of what you’ve done, and I hope that in future you’ll consider your actions more carefully. For my part, I refuse to become involved.’

‘Then you’ll see him murder me.’

‘If there is one thing I have learned from years of friendship with Vaughan, it’s that his bark is considerably more vicious than his bite. He may have threatened you, but I very much doubt he’ll go so far as to kill you over sixty guineas. I suggest you brazen it out.’

‘Begad, Lucerne, have a heart.’

‘That’s my final word on the subject. I’ll talk to him again when he returns but, beyond that, I’m not prepared to help. The ladies are my guests and I’ve been a bad enough host already for allowing this disgrace.’

‘Lucerne, please.’

‘The door is behind you, Charles. Now, for God’s sake, go and shave.’

Charles stumbled blindly into the corridor. The last rays of daylight were filtering through the windows of the gallery. Vaughan had disappeared from Lauwine two
days
ago, and Charles expected him back at any moment to collect on his wager. He had scraped together every available bit of cash he had, including the shillings Bella had poured into the bath, and yet he was still woefully short. Vaughan put the fear of God into him. He’d heard the stories – how Vaughan had reputedly once repaid a slight by calling the fellow out and deliberately shooting him in the kneecap. He wished he’d never shaken on the bet. Lucerne had been his last hope, and he’d refused. Not that he was surprised – there was something distinctly odd about the relationship between those two – but his fate made him utterly miserable.

‘Charles,’ said Bella. She hurried down the corridor towards him. ‘Lucerne refused to loan you the money.’ Charles bowed his head. Bella linked arms with him and walked him along the gallery. ‘I might be able to help.’

‘You?’ He goggled at her, unable to hide his surprise.

‘I don’t mean with the money. You would only give that straight to him. But I could help in other ways, with your escape, for example.’

Charles grimaced. ‘Why would you do that?’ He pressed his handkerchief to his fevered brow.

Bella’s eyes flashed. ‘Some measure of revenge against him.’

‘I don’t know.’ He didn’t trust her motive, regarding either himself or Vaughan. He wasn’t the mumphead they all took him for, and he was aware of Bella’s war of debauch with Pennerley. ‘Where would I go to, and how will you stop him following?’

‘You could go to the Grange for the night, and head into the village or home tomorrow.’

‘I could, but what’s to stop you sending him straight after me?’

‘Nothing. You’ll just have to trust me.’

‘And they’d let me in at the Grange?’ He feared Vaughan but also loathed the idea of spending the night in a bush.

‘I’ll send Mark with you.’

Charles hesitated; he still didn’t trust her, but what choice did he have? Stay here and face Pennerley, or risk taking her at her word.

‘Aubury!’ Vaughan’s voice echoed threateningly through the house. Charles came to a snap decision.

‘I’ll just get my things,’ he blurted.

‘Too late for that. Quick, Charles, this way.’ Bella grasped the ruff of his sleeve and dragged him along the corridor towards the stairs to the kitchens.

‘Charles!’

‘Vaughan, please.’ Lucerne blocked the entrance to the gallery. It had been two days since they’d seen each other and this was not the sort of welcome he’d planned to give him. When Lucerne had heard from Louisa that Vaughan had left Lauwine abruptly and without a farewell, he’d been rather concerned. Now that Vaughan was back, Lucerne’s relief was cut short by the fact that he was only interested in hunting Charles down.

‘Where is he?’

‘Vaughan,’ Lucerne said firmly.

‘Where is he?’ He pushed Lucerne aside so that he could move into the corridor.

‘He’s not here,’ Lucerne explained, in a vain attempt to stall Vaughan for a few more moments. After refusing to aid Charles, he’d immediately regretted his decision. As host, it was his duty to aid an agreeable solution, no matter how the dispute arose. He’d been about to pursue Charles into the corridor when he’d overheard Bella’s voice. Then the pair had fled down the scullery steps.

Vaughan’s face darkened with rage. ‘You sent him away.’

‘He went of his own accord.’

‘When?’

Lucerne didn’t reply, and he tried to keep his expression neutral as Vaughan searched his face for clues.

‘I see. Then he won’t have got far.’

Vaughan turned on his heels and headed towards the stairs up to his room. Lucerne kept up with him at a discreet distance. He followed Vaughan into the marquis’s room and watched apprehensively as he pulled a trunk from beneath the bed, then unlocked it and drew out a gilt-handled rapier.

‘Vaughan, please reconsider.’

Vaughan paused and looked at him with dark eyes. He pursed his lips into a satirical smile, buckled on the sword and strode past him out of the room.

‘You, lad! A horse now, and quick about it,’ Vaughan bellowed at the startled young stable-boy lounging in the yard. The sun had dipped below the edge of the horizon and the stars were just beginning to appear in the heavens. It would be a clear, cold night; there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Perfect for night hunting. Vaughan mounted and galloped from the stable yard out on to the still and quiet moors.

He checked his horse and looked about at the vast expanse of land that surrounded him. It offered little cover to a fugitive on foot. Only in the sudden ditches or hungry fog would Charles find a hiding place, and both were evils best avoided by a man who hoped to live to see the dawn. He headed north, following the pole star to a rocky stretch of land beyond the boundary of
Lucerne’s
estate. The distant lights of Reeth were ahead now, advertising their promise of shelter. It was the last place Vaughan would go if he feared pursuit, but Charles was a different case. He would head to a place where comfort could be bought, where he could cower beneath the blankets in a private room in the coaching inn. Vaughan was looking forward to it; he could already imagine the startled look on Charles’s face when he pulled back the bedcovers. He’d make him sweat for a while, teach him a lesson, and then – and then he’d probably buy him a drink and come back to Lauwine and Lucerne.

Vaughan spurred the horse and, as he did so, a black shape slid between the cover of two outcroppings. He smiled grimly to himself and, with the firm pressure of his thighs guided the mare towards his quarry, with the intention of flushing it out into open ground. Apparently, Charles hadn’t got as far as the village.

The shadowy figure began to run, then stumbled over a tussock and almost fell. Vaughan pushed the mare into a canter and began closing the gap. They slid down the side of a deep wet ditch and pressed on through the pools of foetid water. He was amazed Charles could run so well; fear was obviously inspiring him to greater effort. Twenty yards on he coaxed his steed up the slippery bank, while Charles scrambled up and crawled the last foot, clawing at the grass for leverage. At the top, it was a straight race across open fields and, even if Aubury ran as if the devil were after him, he was no match for a horse.

Vaughan drew up nearly even and sprang, knocking his quarry to the springy turf. Charles had the breath driven from him, but struggled violently enough that Vaughan was forced to restrain both wrists and put a knee to his back to still him. Only when he was recovering
his
own breath did he notice that Charles’s tricorne hat had been dislodged in the struggle, and a long stream of brown curls spilled out from underneath it.

‘Bella!’ he exclaimed, though he didn’t slacken his grasp. ‘By God, Charles has sent a wench to settle his debts!’

‘I’ve a score to settle but it’s not for Charles. Besides, he’s escaped.’

Vaughan looked both left and right across the twilit moors. If Aubury was still out there, he was not close by. ‘So it would appear,’ he admitted. ‘However, that’s of little concern to me. It was merely to see him run that I pursued him this far.’ He gripped her wrists more tightly and removed his knee from her back. ‘But now I have you, my dear, a prettier prospect by far. It would be churlish to complain about the loss of Charles.’

He straddled her thighs and transferred his hold to one hand so that he could give her a friendly squeeze. He didn’t understand why Bella had helped Charles escape, unless it was to provoke him. She’d already had her revenge; now she was just addicted to sparring with him.

She struggled to lift her face from the damp grass. ‘Let go of me, you unspeakable rogue.’

‘Certainly not.’

‘Get off me.’

Vaughan bound her wrists with the ribbon from her hair, then let go. Bella scrambled forwards, but he easily recaptured her by grasping the thick leather belt about her waist. ‘Madam, you will stay still unless told otherwise.’

‘I’ll do as I please.’

‘Will you, indeed.’ He reached beneath her and unbuckled the belt that held up Charles’s over-large breeches, then pulled it free of her clothing. Bella stared
at
it in horror, clearly afraid of his intentions. They both knew he had every reason to use it on her, as retribution for whipping him or for helping Charles escape. Vaughan enjoyed the uncertainty in her eyes, and held it meaningfully for a moment before laying it aside and pulling the breeches down over her hips. He intended to use her, but not like that.

With her bottom exposed to the chill night air, her hands securely tied and nobody else for miles around, Bella began to wonder if helping Charles had been such a bright plan after all. She struggled against her bonds as Vaughan sat back and observed her, only reaching out to prevent her escape when she was almost free. He retied the ribbon and then smacked her rump with his hand, forcing an indignant squeal from her lips.

‘You will do as you are told unless you want every man, woman and child in the next post coach to see your glowing behind.’

‘You wouldn’t dare.’

‘Don’t tempt me. I could easily canter to the road with you over the back of the horse.’

Bella fell silent. Damn Charles, she should have let him fend for himself.

‘Why are you here?’ Vaughan asked.

‘To help Charles.’

He spanked her behind again, and Bella yelped in protest. ‘The real reason.’

‘That is the real reason.’

Vaughan spanked her again.

‘Well, I certainly didn’t come out to be humiliated by you.’

‘Though you appear to be enjoying it.’ He gently pressed his thumb to her swollen labia and they parted for him. Bella whimpered as he moved in her wetness
and
fingered her roughly in that infuriatingly overconfident manner of his. She hated the fact that he turned her on so easily, and stubbornly set her jaw in a bid of defiance. She wouldn’t react. Not this time.

Vaughan brought his thumb to his mouth and sucked it clean. ‘For a wonder, you don’t taste of Lucerne,’ he said. ‘Perhaps your appetite for him wanes.’

‘That’s because last time he came in my mouth,’ Bella snarled. ‘Which part of you tastes of him?’

‘Not the sort of charming phrase you expect to hear from a lady,’ said an approaching figure.

‘Lucerne!’ Bella gasped. They both watched him dismount. He stepped up to them wearing a rather serious frown.

‘Where is Charles?’ he asked.

‘Damned if I know.’

‘Safe,’ said Bella.

‘Good, then we can return home.’ Lucerne reached out a hand to untie the ribbon that bound Bella, but Vaughan blocked him. Their hands met above hers and their eyes locked in a silent contest. Bella whimpered, overwhelmed by a sudden fear that they would fight, as they were both wearing swords.

‘You’ve made your point,’ said Lucerne.

To her surprise, Vaughan relinquished and took a step back. Lucerne loosened the knot. ‘Are you all right?’

Bella nodded. She hitched up her oversized breeches and accepted the leather belt from Lucerne to fasten around her waist. She stared out across the Pennines as she tucked in her shirt, resisting the urge to look at the two men standing only a few feet away from her, who shared a tense, uncomfortable silence. It was as if, after several days apart, they couldn’t work out what to say to each other: whether to argue or apologise, or just to kiss and make up.