His Perfect Game (8 page)

Instead, he simply shrugged. “What more is there?”

“More than I can even begin to describe, but we can start with something basic. Is she attractive?”

“Merely passable,” Greyson lied. Anyone with that level of passion inside her could never be described as anything less than magnificent.

Once again Greyson thought back to her hair. He wondered what color it could be. Certainly not black. He’d only seen her eyebrows once, when he’d removed those hideous glasses. Unfortunately he could not recall the color, only that they didn’t match her hair.

“All right.” Richard’s tone held a hint of exasperation. “Then what of her manner? Does she have a favorable disposition?”

“Well enough.”

Richard sighed. “Are you intentionally trying to withhold information, or do you truly have no thoughts on her?”

“What exactly do you want to know?”

“If there is something, anything, between you two, or if this is a marriage of convenience.”

“And if it is?”

Richard put his head back as his jaw clenched, his anger evident, and Greyson could not understand what caused the reaction. Originally he thought his friend had been pleased for him, but he wasn’t sure anymore. Richard obviously held a marriage of convenience in disdain, but Greyson didn’t know why. The majority of marriages were for social standing or property increases as well as various other reasons having nothing to do with the two people who would be impacted the most.

“You could do so much better. Last Season when I began my search for a bride, I thought as you do. I felt one woman was as good as any other as long as she met my requirements. Every day I wake up next to my wife, I thank God I didn’t settle for someone who met my constraints. You will not have that without the right woman.”

“Lady Willimena is the right woman. Not only will she help elevate my social standing, but the two of us deal well together.”

Unusual sparks of anger simmered inside of him, all directed at his friend. He couldn’t understand what brought this about or why he should care. Although he always held Richard’s opinion in high regard, he didn’t need his approval. In fourteen days, Lady Willimena would be his wife and there was nothing anyone could do to prevent it.

Hours later, Greyson could not get Richard’s words from his head. Did he deserve happiness? Perhaps, but his happiness remained contingent upon gaining respect from his peers. He was doing the right thing for himself, and in the process, he could give his betrothed what she wanted as well.

“My lord,” Algers called from the doorway. “Nathaniel mentioned you were looking for me. What can I help you with?”

“Come in and have a seat. I simply wanted an update on your dealings in catching the thief. Have you made any progress?”

“I’m doing my best. Just yesterday I made my report to Nathaniel. Forgive me, my lord, but you seem very involved for an investor. Honestly, I have never seen one take such a keen interest.”

“The activities I allocate my time to are none of your concern. I intend to see to my investment in my own way.” Greyson clenched his teeth and focused his complete attention on Algers, not caring when the man began to squirm. Greyson realized he should have listened to Jonathan and continued to conduct his business dealings through Nathaniel, but this situation constantly plagued him. Now he would have to tread warily in order to ensure rumors about his involvement didn’t begin.

“As I told Nathaniel, after Daniel was removed, although I’m unsure how that came about, the theft has stopped. I believe we inadvertently found the one responsible, and we have nothing further to worry about.”

Keeping his mouth closed at the man’s stupidity, Greyson didn’t comment. He could not determine if the man actually believed the drivel he spouted or if his acceptance came from laziness. Either way, Greyson knew he could not push him or he would regret the results.

“Thank you. I’m relieved to hear it.”

As Algers excused himself, Nathaniel entered and closed the door behind him. He appeared relaxed and confident, making Greyson more positive he’d made the right decision in instilling his faith in him. Nathaniel managed Ravenhurst in his absence as well as carried out both his and Jonathan’s orders, which he did masterfully.

“What do you think?” Greyson inquired. “Based on your past dealings with him, do you believe him?”

“I’m not entirely sure. He appears to be a good sort, but he definitely lacks initiative. Several times during ‘his investigation,’ I pointed out details he should have been the one to note.”

“Then our opinions are the same, as I, too, am not convinced. Are you still having Daniel watched?”

“Yes, but either he worked alone, or he knows how to lie low. If the latter, eventually he will slip up, and we will be there the second he does.”

“Good. It sounds as though you have everything handled here.”

“For the time being. I only wish we could catch the culprit and put all this to rest.”

“I second that. Just keep me informed.”

Nathaniel bowed then set off to tend to his duties.

Greyson leaned back in his chair and sighed. He needed to reduce the time he spent at Ravenhurst, but how could he when so much required his attention? At least he had the time to give. Once he was wed, his bride had no use for him and would not welcome his presence, so demands on his time would remain low.

Reaching his hands up, he rubbed his temples. In a fortnight his bride would live in his home. He would officially remove the last sanctuary available to him in London. He would no longer be welcome anywhere.

“He is here, my lady.” Mary smiled as Abigail let out a squeal of delight.

Rushing downstairs, Abigail didn’t pause as she entered the drawing room. Braiden stood before her, all smiles. Although he was three years older than her, he looked younger and as carefree as ever. Launching herself into his arms, she reveled in the sense of security she always had with him. He remained the one man she felt safe with.

“Whoa, little sister. I have missed you, too, but you must contain yourself.” He pulled her back, but still kept a hold of her hand as they sat down.

“It has been desolate here without you. I wish you would visit more often.”

“You know I would, but Father insists that as the Marquis of Hauney, I must tend to estate matters.”

“But he neglects the dukedom.”

“Don’t say such things. He is a wonderful duke. Over the years, he gained the ability to manage his property from afar. One day I hope to be just like him.”

Seeing the hero worship in her brother’s eyes, Abigail kept her opinion to herself. Father had always treated him differently than he treated her. To keep his true nature hidden from Braiden, their father took pains to separate him from the family. Seeing their father treat Braiden kindly was another knife to Abigail’s heart. Obviously he could be kind and caring but chose only to show that to his heir.

“How long will you be here?”

“He came for your wedding,” her father answered for him. “We are pleased Braiden could spare himself at all. I trust you haven’t left any matters outstanding for this journey.”

“Certainly not, Father. As you taught me, I have ensured everything will run smoothly in my absence.”

As the two men continued on with estate business, Abigail kept her head down. Not only did the conversation not require her input, but remaining unnoticed in her father’s presence always served her better.

“How is Mother? I expected her to greet me.”

“She has been unwell lately. I believe it has something to do with the bad fall she suffered the other day.”

Abigail’s head snapped up. She had not heard of her mother sustaining an injury due to a fall. Her father must have gotten to her when she wasn’t there to help. Suddenly her stomach rolled. Had her mother silently prayed she would arrive and save her as usual?

Bolstered by the idea that her mother needed her, Abigail shot to her feet. Braiden stood with a gentle but questioning smile where her father glared at her as if annoyed by the reminder of her presence.

“Please excuse me.” She curtsied and left the room before her father could say anything to make her stay.

Walking straight to the duchess’s chambers, Abigail only paused long enough to knock. As expected, her mother silently sat in a chair looking out the window. Observing people passing by with their happy faces had become a favorite pastime. Many times Abigail had joined her, but at the moment the activity seemed sad and lonely.

As she stepped forward and took her customary seat, her mother didn’t acknowledge her. They sat in silence as she tried to think of the right words to say. A weak sigh broke the silence, forcing Abigail’s planned words to crumble.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Abigail blurted out, imploring her to understand.

Slowly her mother faced her, a blank expression in her eyes. “You were not supposed to be.”

“But I can protect you,” Abigail promised, needing her mother to believe her. “I’m young and—”

“Stop.” Her mother closed her eyes as her hand clutched her chest. “It isn’t your responsibility. I never should have let things get this far, but I’m just so afraid.”

The pain in her face tore at Abigail’s heart. “Why? Why does he do this to us?” The words were ripped from her. It was a question she asked herself many times over but never had the courage to voice. Even as it constantly ran through her mind, she didn’t want to know the answer. She could not handle to hear this was the way life worked.

“I don’t know. I have always wanted to protect you, to shield you from him, but my attempts only enraged him further.”

They sat in silence, sharing the painful memories. Abigail knew her escape quickly approached, but with her gone, how would her mother survive? Would she ever see her again? Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she refused to allow them to fall. She had to be strong for her mother.

Abigail felt a prick of conscience. She had not made it known that she would be living in the country after her wedding. Each time she’d tried, the words would not come. Now, with the wedding so close, she had to tell her. Knowing she would cause her mother more pain brought distress, but she had already waited too long.

“Lord Merrick and I spoke of the future the other day.” She paused as her mother’s hand covered her mouth. “A short time after we are wed, I’ll be moving to Merrick to live while my husband remains in London.”

Her mother closed her eyes tightly. “Thank God. You will be spared.”

“I spoke to Julia about it, and she knows of many married women who live in the same manner.”

“Truly blessed women,” her mother whispered, opening her eyes. They were red, and Abigail suspected unshed tears burned them.

“Yes, but do you not see? It’s acceptable. Father does not want us here. He could send you to Donetic, or even better, he could let you go back with Braiden to Hauney. I know Braiden would be honored to have you living with him.”

The smile twisting her mother’s mouth was mocking. “You don’t understand. Your father does want me here.”

“He clearly does not. Why else would he—”

“Because he takes pleasure in it. He would never send me away. Doing so would make him miss the power he receives from keeping someone at his mercy.” She stood, encouraging Abigail to follow suit. “Now, enough about this. Lady Laramie’s ball is this evening, and I know how much you enjoy attending.”

Abigail obediently exited the room. Although thoughts of the upcoming ball filled her head, she could not find any excitement in it. Her stomach twisted to think of her mother here, forced to face the duke’s wrath alone.

She had to do something. She had to try to save her.

Greyson surveyed the room, and, as usual, felt impressed by the lengths Lady Laramie went through for her guest’s enjoyment. Everything about the ballroom elicited feelings of cold, but it also spoke of elegance.

The servant’s clothing and faces were shrouded in white as was every other surface he could see. The floor was dusted with a fine powder to give off the illusion of snow. From time to time, little flecks of white cascaded down from elaborately erected structures to add to the mixture on the floor.

Following along the perimeter of the room, he discovered the rumors held truth. He counted four pieces of ice resting in basins large enough to hold a grown man. Each block of ice had one servant behind it, fanning the cool air toward the guests, and another to remove excess water from the basin.

The effect proved extraordinary, but Greyson couldn’t fathom going through so much trouble and expense for one night. Although, seeing the number of guests crammed in the room made him reassess his thoughts. An unusual idea had the ability to draw people in, but as the son-in-law of the duke, he would no longer need to consider such plans.

Stopping in front of the card room, Greyson hesitated. His fingers itched to play, to test his skill once again. For so long the game had only been about beating the duke, but now that feat had been achieved. Teetering at the edge of the room, he took a deep breath, knowing if he entered, he would be unable to leave until late in the evening.

“Care to test your luck against me again?” the devil’s voice of temptation called from behind him.

Turning, Greyson faced the duke. “Thank you, but I’ll pass.”

“Afraid to lose? I have bested you before, I can do it again.”

Working carefully to refrain from accepting the challenge, Greyson glanced back into the card room. The men inside were either drunk on the idea of winning, or disillusioned, yet desperate to hold one last winning hand. Greyson realized he didn’t belong to that crowd.

“Perhaps another time.” Greyson swung his gaze back to the duke, who wore a smug smile.

“I look forward to it. It will be an honor to show you who truly holds the power.”

Greyson ignored the comment, stepping past the man and the no-longer-appealing card room. With His Grace present, he knew Lady Willimena had arrived. He decided that as soon as he heard a waltz, he would approach his betrothed and take her into his arms.

Seeing her across the room, he postponed his greeting to watch her. The white gown matched the theme well, as did many of the costumes in the room, but unlike the other guests, hers was outdated. He wondered why she always dressed out of fashion. The duke could easily garb her and his wife in the most stylish and expensive garments, but he didn’t.