Chapter 26
twenty-six
After Effie left, Tristan stood in the drawing room alone, pacing slowing next to the bay window.
He couldn’t believe what had just happened.
The shock from her proposal had left him speechless.
While she’d talked, he’d experienced a wide range of emotions, from scepticism to confusion and incredulity.
He’d agreed to the most absurd deal of his life with the woman he wanted the most. But his desire for Effie wasn’t what had made him agree with her nonsensical offer.
She was suffering and desperate, and while he would never let her starve or miss anything, he understood why she didn’t want his financial help.
He’d taken for granted she would have accepted his money.
Her determination to refuse him had been like a slap to his face.
His father had often said that arrogance was the enemy of a good businessman.
He’d accepted her deal also because he’d got what he wanted. Winchester had been punished for his lack of action. Effie had won.
A chuckle shook him. He doubted she would go through with the deal. Tomorrow at seven, she would ask him to forget the whole affair; she would tell him it was a mistake, but he wouldn’t resume attacking her father. There was a limit to his malice.
Still, he couldn’t stop smiling as he thought of her eyes ignited with determination and her cheeks flushing at each one of his questions. She was fierce when she wanted to be, and he loved it.
It was time to call back his dogs for sweet Effie.
What on Earth had Effie done?
She wasn’t sure she had an answer. After she’d left Tristan’s house in a hurry for no reason, a deep sense of relief had washed over her…for about two seconds. Then an equally deep realisation of what she’d agreed to do had dawned on her with the strength of a freight train.
She paced in the library, unnerving Kettle to the point he retreated somewhere. Even Pepper was annoyed by her nervousness and left her alone.
“There you are.” Jane’s voice sounded from behind her.
She jumped and put a hand on her throat. “I didn’t hear you coming.”
“I gathered that.” Jane hugged her. “I’m sorry about your father. I heard about his ordeal.”
“He’ll recover soon. I’m not sure I can say the same thing about his finances.”
“Rumour has it that Montcrest is behind the attack.” Jane removed her fine white gloves, one finger at a time. The white and lime gown she wore would be appropriate for an elegant tea party at Gunter’s.
“For once, the rumour is true.” She paced again. “I went to see Tristan to ask him to stop his attack.”
“I thought you would. So? Did he see reason?”
“Yes, he did.” She tried to sound confident.
Jane frowned, sitting on the sofa in a froth of satin. “How? He looks like a dog with a bone. He never lets go. What did you tell him to convince him?”
“I asked very kindly.”
The frown deepened. “I don’t believe you. Besides, you’re terrible at keeping secrets. That’s why I don’t tell you mine.”
“Do you tell mine to anyone?” She stopped in front of Jane, a hand on her hip.
“I won’t be offended by your question because I know you’re worried about your father.” Jane pouted. “I’m interested in gossip, yes, but I don’t blabber about my friends. So do you think he’s going to stop?”
“It’s early days. We’ll have to wait and see if he agreed only to get rid of me or if he meant it.”
That seemed to soothe Jane’s doubts. “Don’t be disappointed if it turns out he tricked you.”
“I won’t.” She would.
Jane stood up. “There’s something else I need to tell you.” It was Jane’s turn to pace. “You know I’m not as good as you are.”
Ha! If Jane knew what Effie had done, she would change her mind. “What did you do?”
“Nothing too despicable.” Jane flourished a hand in the air. “I asked almost every one of my acquaintances about Montcrest.”
Effie dropped her arms at her sides. “Why?”
“I was curious to know about that mistress of his. I thought that, if she was the Duchess of Norfolk, then your father’s problems would be more difficult to solve. It was for a good cause. Although I wouldn’t mind knowing a juicy piece of gossip about the duchess. It would be useful.”
She was curious despite herself. “What did you find out?”
“He visited Chelsea more often in the past weeks, a seedy area, which was disappointing. I don’t think his mistress is the duchess.” Jane closed the door. “He visits a disorderly house. He is a regular customer of the place.”
“Oh.” Words failed her.
She didn’t know what was worse, a mistress or a disorderly house. No, surely a disorderly house was worse. Tristan’s past was full of hardship. He should know that the girls working in a house of ill repute were desperate, starving, and forced to do things they didn’t want to.
Jane put a hand on her shoulder. “Just one word. Syphilis. And the clap. So more than one word. My point is, stay away from him. Also, it seems he avoids Dr. O’Neil, likely because he doesn’t want anyone to know he contracted a nasty disease.”
She wrung her hands. “Jane, I have a confession to make, too.”
That night, sleep eluded Effie. She’d agreed to have a tumble—more than one—with a man who frequented a disorderly house regularly.
Ethical matter aside, she didn’t want to get any contagious disease.
On top of that, Jane’s reaction to her confession had been discouraging.
Her friend had pointed out the consequences of nasty rumours about Effie’s closeness to the marquess, picturing an apocalyptic future that had terrified her.
The next morning, her appetite vanished.
She was alone, twirling her spoon in her cup of tea in the dining room, ignoring the slices of bread, porridge, and kippers. Papa was already in his study, working with Lowe. Dr. O’Neil’s recommendations to rest had fallen on deaf ears.
She sipped her tea, but her stomach closed at the sight of the porridge.
She couldn’t withdraw her proposal, could she?
Tristan would start attacking her family again.
But she was going to lose her virginity—likely affecting her future chances of a good match—and she didn’t want to get the clap as well.
Voices and footsteps came from the hallway in a worrying repeat of yesterday. She perked up. What now?
Papa opened the door, an astonished look on his tired face. “He stopped.”
“What?” She shot up, heart pounding in her throat.
“Montcrest stopped attacking my company and even reversed some of his financial moves. That gives me hope.”
Tristan had kept his word. She had no choice but to go through with her deal.
“How? Why?” Papa ran a shivering hand through his hair. “I don’t understand.”
“He isn’t as heartless as you think.” Although she wasn’t sure he would have stopped without her intervention.
He hugged her, laughing in relief. “I can’t believe it. I thought he was going to destroy me. Maybe you’re right about him.”
“But you must promise me you’ll rest and follow Dr. O’Neil’s instructions religiously.”
“Yes, yes.” He laughed again, and she would love to laugh with him, but while the news made her happy, anxiety formed a tight knot in her belly.
If she had to be completely honest, she found Tristan attractive, and he was clever and charming when he wanted to be. But she’d agreed to be his mistress under duress. Not exactly the romantic story she hoped for.
Too late now. The deal had been done.