“I plan to beat you bloody.”
Geoffrey Litton, Earl of Wortham, strode into his library, frustration gnawing at his heels. Today should have been the day when everything was once again set right. Angus Dimmick had been publicly hanged that afternoon for committing several murders. The man was a frightening piece of work, and Geoffrey was grateful to be no longer in his debt. He’d witnessed the hanging, then gone to a tavern to celebrate with a few tankards. When the tavern closed he had headed home. What he truly wanted was a game of cards, but every club he visited barred his entrance, informed him that he was not welcome. He had expected it of the Rakehell Club, but the others made little sense. He’d yet to run up a debt elsewhere.
Something was amiss.
Tomorrow when his vision wasn’t quite so blurred and his head wasn’t swimming, he’d go round to the clubs again and talk to the owners about his membership.
The room was mostly shadows. One lone lamp burning low on the desk guided him to his liquor cabinet, where he poured himself a hearty helping of Scotch. He lifted the glass and inhaled the heady aroma. He tossed back a long swallow, turned on his heel, staggered back, and to his everlasting mortification, squealed like a piglet that had just had its tail pulled.
Rafe Easton sat sprawled in a chair near the cold fireplace.
“What are you doing here?” Geoffrey asked, despising the high pitch of his voice, though he seemed unable to lower it.
“Come to settle our debts.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Geoffrey said. “That Dimmick fellow. He said he would erase my debts if I knifed you. I would become a permanent member of the club when he regained possession of it. He’s to blame. Now he’s dead. You have nothing to fear from me.”
“I never had anything to fear from you. And I don’t give a damn about the knifing. What I do care about is the atrocious manner in which you treated your father’s daughter.”
“But you’re marrying her. I saw the announcement in theTimes. So she’s come out of the situation smelling like roses.”
Easton slowly rose from the chair. Ominously. “But what if I hadn’t been there that night? What then? You were going to give the lords freedom to rape her.”
“No.” He backed up, hit the table, glass decanters tinkled. “No, no. Only examine her, touch her. Not actually fu—” He remembered the last time he’d used that word in relation to Evelyn. “—bed her. She would have lost her value if she were no longer a virgin. It’s all moot now.”
“Hardly. You’re going to see after her welfare as you promised your father you would.” He tossed some papers onto the desk. “You’re going to sign those.”
Geoffrey tried to see them without getting too close to Easton. “What are they?”
“Transfer of all property that is not entailed, including this residence, to your beloved sister.”
“What? No. Never.” The man had gone mad.
“Consider it a wedding gift to Eve. Sign the papers and I’ll not beat you to within an inch of your life.”
“You dare to threaten me?”
“Not only do I dare it, I enjoy it. You lost your membership to my club, and you’ve no doubt discovered that no other club will have you.”
Red flashed before Geoffrey’s eyes. “You arranged that?”
“Oh, I’ve arranged a good deal more than that. There is not a lord in all of England who will give you leave to marry his daughter. You will die without issue, and your cousin Francis will inherit the title and estates when you are dead. Until that time, for the aristocracy, you no longer exist. You will be invited to no balls, no dinners, no parties. You will have no choice except to live out your life on your ancestral estate, alone, with nothing to sustain you except regret for the unkindness you showed Eve and the knowledge that I am always watching. You won’t see me, but rest assured that I shall be aware of every breath you take.”
“You’ll not get away with this.”
Easton gave him a devilish grin. “I already have. Sign the papers.”
Geoffrey crept toward the desk. “At least allow me back into your club. I shall go mad with no cards to entertain me.”
“Try managing your estates.”
“But the cards, you see, they are my passion.”
“A misguided passion. They led you toward the path to ruin, but it was your choice to step on the road the night you offered up Eve to anyone who wanted her.”
“You must give me something for signing these papers.”
“I’m giving you your life.”
