Chapter Sixteen #2
“That’s terrible. What can Tristan do?”
“I don’t know. But you shouldn’t worry about him.
A man like him will always find a way to get what he wants.
As for you, I want you to rest well tonight and think deeply and thoroughly about this offer.
We can put an end to this once and for all.
Lord Hugstead has many powerful alliances, and he owes me a favor. He’s not bad looking, either.”
Felicity huffed out a laugh. No one could compare to Tristan. And no one would love her like he did. They were made for each other. She would have never believed such a ridiculous idea in her youth. But now? It was true. It had to be true, and there had to be a way for them to be together.
“I will rest and think tonight. When do I have to answer?”
“The sooner you accept, the quicker you can be married. I can try to maneuver a special license out of the Archbishop of Canterbury again, but he’s cross with me still about the last time I conned him.” She winked.
Felicity stood. “I should go then.”
“Have Milly help you pack the remainder of your things.”
Felicity nodded. She opened the door, and Milly and Tristan waited there. Her knees nearly buckled with the urge to throw herself at him, but she stood firm.
“I have to pack,” she said. “I’m going to stay with Lady Amelia.”
Tristan nodded. “That’s good.”
Felicity couldn’t read his expression. He didn’t know about Hugstead.
“Come, miss. I have some tea in your room already,” Milly beckoned.
“I have to speak with her,” he said. “I’ll come find you when it’s time to go.”
Felicity nodded and Tristan entered the parlor and closed the door.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon stood by the tea cart and poured herself a cup. “You took some time to bring her back here.”
“She didn’t want to come back at all. It took some convincing.”
“What else did it take, I wonder . . .” she mused.
Tristan leaned on the back of the chair.
He was too restless to sit, not when he was ready to blow up all his plans and throw away his family’s legacy.
His siblings, a home for him and Flick—he’d have to figure it out somehow.
Maybe the widow would accept a new deal.
He’d do anything if it meant keeping Flick, even murder.
“I want to marry her,” he declared.
“No,” she said without any preamble or surprise.
“No? She’s of age. I could walk out that door with her right now.”
“If she’d have you.”
“I think she will.”
“You know, you’re not as stealthy as you used to be. You’re getting reckless. There have been whispers about the closeness between the two of you.”
“Whatever it takes, I’ll do it.”
“She has a better option.”
Tristan gripped the back of the chair until the wood groaned.
“You have to agree Hugstead has more to offer a girl like Miss Brandon,” she said.
Tristan bit his tongue. She was baiting him.
“Hugstead has offered for her hand. I advised Miss Brandon to take the time to truly consider the offer. It’s what any sane woman would do.”
“Is that why she looked so happy? I didn’t know joy had a green pallor. I’m offering,” he said.
“You’ve nothing to offer her, or me. Never forget that I’m in the business of matchmaking. I don’t do it for pleasure. Although—toying with men is always amusing.”
“I’m not nothing. Make me a new deal. I’ll . . . I’ll let Meed buy Lark Hall.”
She whipped toward him. “Your great-grandfather died on the fields of Culloden for that house, and your grandfather had to turn his back on everything they stood for to save that house, to salvage what was left of Clan Cameron, is that not correct? It’s what you spouted to me when you came crawling on your knees to save it.
Now you’re going to give it up for a woman?
” She scoffed. “Men are so fickle. This is why women should rule everything. What of your siblings? What of the grave markers of your parents? The tenants who trust you with their wellbeing? I looked into Lark Hall. I know it’s now worth three times what we agreed upon. ”
“They’re my concern, not yours. Everyone else who cares about that house is dead.”
“You care. Don’t pretend you don’t care.”
“I love her.”
She snorted. “Did you tell her that?”
“I did.”
She straightened and folded her arms. “Well, that muddies the water a bit, doesn’t it? Her mind addled with proclamations of love, no wonder she wouldn’t agree to Hugstead right away.”
“Make me a deal, please,” he begged.
“No. You’re ready to throw away the Cameron legacy for love? Then throw aside some of your other scruples and do a little gambling. Put your happiness and fate in your own hands and play. Play to win everything you want. Your house, your lady love. I think it’s quite fitting.”
“You’re—”
“Careful what you say,” she snapped. “This is my club, and I decide who can play here.”
“I don’t know how to play cards. I’ll lose.”
“Learn quickly. This is your only way to achieve the things you want. I’ll arrange a special exhibition card game.
Skill is needed to win. I’ll even sweeten the deal.
If you win, I’ll wipe your debts clean. If you lose .
. . you will still owe me a debt, and I will capitalize on Lark Hall’s new worth that Meed is willing to pay,”
Tristan had never fainted before, but he imagined the wooziness and black around his vision must be his consciousness slipping away. He shook his head and focused on her.
“I have your word?”
“Yes. Play Lord Hugstead and win, and the debt is erased. But she still has to agree to wed you. You are not playing for her hand. That would be despicable.”
“I understand.” He turned away.
“Don’t do anything reckless.”
“When do I ever?”
“Since she arrived? All the time.”
Tristan paused at the door. “Do you want me to win?”
“I want Miss Brandon to win. That’s the whole point of this game.”
“So do I.”