Page 11 of To Dance with a Devil

Jerome stared down the hill towards Holbrooke House, his horse fidgeting below him, eager to get back to the stables where food and a rub down awaited it. Jerome stilled it, not ready to close the distance between him and Bonnie.

He still didn’t know what he felt. When he’d left, he’d been bloody angry, not to mention hurt, that she had flung his efforts to do the right thing back at him with so much force. Why he felt so, he didn’t know. He ought to be relieved. Marrying Bonnie was the last thing he wanted, the very idea of it made him go hot and cold in quick succession as he imagined the disastrous consequences of such a mésalliance. Not because he was a snob. He didn’t give a damn that her family wasn’t as illustrious as his, nor that her dowry was barely adequate, rather than the lavish fortune a match with the likes of Lady Helena could bring him.

No, that wasn’t it.

The trouble with Bonnie was that she had the devil in her, the same devil that lived in him, and when they were with each other those two wicked creatures got their heads together, intent on mayhem.

Jasper’s lecture was still ringing in his ears and for once Jerome had paid attention. Usually his brother’s rants, whilst justified, left Jerome untouched. He’d listen—or pretend to—and nod and promise to do better and then go on his merry way. The morning after having relieved his friend of her maidenhead, however, guilt was already sitting heavy in his heart, and Jasper’s words had struck hard. His brother was not in the least bit unreasonable either. He wasn’t nagging Jerome to marry; at twenty-four Jasper felt he was young enough to wait a good few years yet. That he needed to grow up and start acting his age, however, was plain. Jasper had run through a variety of Jerome’s recent exploits, reminding him of various scrapes he’d been hauled from: drunkenness, debauchery, a close shave with a married lady who’d been blackmailing him with telling the scandal sheets the intimate details of their affair, and not forgetting his finest hour, the courtesan for whom he’d believed he’d fallen head over heels for and had seriously considered marrying. Admittedly, this last had been over two years ago, but the experience had clearly scarred his big brother for life. Jerome’s lovely petticoat had cost Jasper a small fortune to get rid of, and he wasn’t about to let him forget it.

That the girl had skipped off without a backward glance had hurt too, though not as deeply as it ought to have. Not too many weeks later, Jerome had been forced to acknowledge it hadn’t been love he’d felt, or if it had, it was a shallow, fragile variety, for he’d not pined for her. He didn’t know what love was, he supposed, though he wanted to, more than he’d ever admit.

Running through his recent escapades, which when listed one after the other did not create a pretty picture, had given Jerome pause, as his brother had no doubt intended. Then, Jasper had started in on Bonnie, and not for the first time. She was a lovely girl, a great deal of fun, his brother said, telling Jerome he quite understood the appeal, but she was an innocent and clearly in love with Jerome, and it was cruel of him to pay her such attention when he had no intention of offering for her. The girl would be hurt and her reputation damaged if Jerome didn’t stop encouraging her. If he cared for her at all, he’d keep away. If, however, he continued to put her heart and reputation at risk, Jasper would be forced to take action and stop Jerome’s allowance. He’d already threatened this once before, a threat which Jerome had taken with a pinch of salt as Jasper really wasn’t a bad fellow and wouldn’t throw his weight around and play the lord and master if he didn’t have to. Now, however, his intent was obvious. He meant it.

It wasn’t the threat that had made him think, though. Jerome’s heart had felt raw and exposed, the pain of guilt and responsibility so heavy he couldn’t breathe as he realised how right Jasper was. Bonnie loved him, and he’d ruined her. What kind of man was he, what kind of friend was he, to treat her so badly?

He’d met her in Green Park, the night of the fireworks on the first of August and liked her at once. Was it really only two months ago? Yet she’d been at Holbrooke House since the middle of August and, until he’d run away from her, they’d spent nearly every day in each other’s company. Other than his family—and, he supposed, his fellow pupils at school—he didn’t think he’d ever spent so much time with one person. He’d certainly never spent so much time with a female.

If Jasper had had the slightest inkling of all the times they’d snuck out of the house to meet each other too, he’d have been a damn sight more furious than he had been.

Jerome had been uncharacteristically penitent in the light of that scolding, and he’d meant it too, with all his heart. He’d sworn to Jasper that he’d change, that he’d grow up and behave himself. No more drinking and carousing, no more scandals, no more getting into trouble. He’d put his hand on his heart and sworn to do better, to make his brother proud. It was hardly surprising that Jasper had looked sceptical, but Jerome was determined to do as he’d said and put things right. With that in mind he’d gone straight to Bonnie and proposed, only to have his offer thrown back in his face.

It had hurt more than he liked to admit.

So now he was back, after having taken to his heels and run away, rather than being forced to look into Bonnie’s eyes every day and face the truth of how badly he’d let her down. He’d ruined their friendship and ruined her, and she wouldn’t let him make it right in the only way he knew how.

“Oh God,” he moaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

He didn’t know what to do. Perhaps if it weren’t for his brother’s wedding he’d have played the coward and kept away, no matter how much he hated himself for doing so. Missing the wedding was out of the question, however, and Bonnie would be there so… so, he damn well needed a plan.

Except he had no idea where to start. Bonnie didn’t want to marry him unless he was in love with her, and he could hardly pretend he was when he wasn’t. So, where did that leave them?

With another groan of despair, he urged his horse on, and rode on to Holbrooke.

By the time he entered the house, everyone was gathering for lunch, and he met Miss Hunt in the hallway.

“Have you seen Bonnie?” she asked, her expression one of such anxiety his heart clenched in anticipation of the worst.

“No,” he said, aware of his guts twisting with guilt, a sensation with which he was becoming far too familiar. “I’ve just arrived. Is she missing?”

Miss Hunt shrugged. “I saw her an hour ago, and she said she’d see me at lunch but now… well, she’s not here and….”

She paused and gave Jerome a hard stare, apparently weighing him up. To his horror, he felt a flush of heat climbing up the back of his neck.

“I know it’s none of my business,” Miss Hunt said, lowering her voice though there was a sharp glint to her blue eyes. “But Bonnie is hardly discreet in these matters and you’ve been keeping away and….”

“And…?” Jerome prompted as she paused, wishing she’d just get on and accuse him of being a bastard and a cad. It would almost be a relief. They’d make Bonnie marry him then.

“She wouldn’t come out with us this morning,” Miss Hunt said, and for a moment Jerome thought she’d strayed from the topic. “When I came home, it was clear she’d spent the morning crying.”

Jerome swallowed around the lump that was now lodged securely in his throat. It didn’t budge. “I’ll find her,” he said, his voice rough, before turning on his heel and heading out of the door again.

He hurried back to the stables to enquire if anyone had seen Bonnie. She loved to ride, and whenever he was blue devilled his first thought was to ride off into the wilderness and get some peace.

Sure enough one of the lads told him that Miss Campbell had taken Magnar, a huge bay stallion, out of the stables over an hour ago.

“Magnar?” Jerome repeated, horrified. “What bloody fool let her take that great brute out alone?”

The groom blushed but stood his ground. “I seen ’er on a horse, Mr Cadogan, and beggin’ your pardon but she’s a bruising rider, else I would never ’ave let her choose the big fella, but she was set on ’im and I reckoned they’d get along well enough.”