Chapter 3 #2
At the craps table he clapped one of the men on the shoulder. “How are the dice treating you tonight, Harold?”
“Not great if I’m honest, but it’s still better than going home to my wife.” Laughter rounded the table. “I heard you got yourself shackled. What were you thinking, man?”
Giles chuckled. “Clearly, I wasn’t.” It hadn’t occurred to him that people would know, but of course they did. He was a wealthy, high profile man, known for being a sought-after bachelor. Everyone would want to know who had managed to snag him.
At the end of the night, Ash sent Giles up to see the ladies off. One of the owners was always there to thank them as they left the club and crossed back to Raven House.
“Goodnight, ladies. Thank you for all your hard work.” That was the moment that he finally understood.
They were the reason it had been such a big problem that he’d helped himself to the money in the safe.
It belonged to them. It was for their welfare.
All of this was. Which meant the money he’d taken from the safe, he’d taken from them.
With that understanding, he suddenly felt like the worst sort of thief, even if he had paid it back. With a sigh, he walked to the balcony. Allister was there, watching over everything. As the head of their security, he would know what Giles had done.
Giles stood beside him, watching the last round of all the games.
“I understand you were on the receiving end of Michael’s fists this afternoon.”
Giles huffed remembering the incident. He'd be sore from that for a while. “No secrets in this place, I guess.”
“Not from me, there aren’t.”
“Then you’ll know Ash divested me of my keys.”
He nodded but kept his gaze fixed on the gaming floor. Another man Giles had upset. “Perhaps you should have a go, as well.”
Allister finally faced him. “I still work for you, but I will say, I think they went far too easy on you. And, employer or not, I will be keeping my eye on you.”
Giles nodded. “I’d expect nothing less.”
When the last patron was gone, Giles went downstairs to help, but Ash stopped him as he approached the table where they were counting money.
“You may go, Giles. Fitz and I will finish up here.”
No keys, and no access to the cash. Like in his early days, but worse. He’d just have to take his thrashing like a man, and work to earn their trust back.
“Goodnight, then.”
As he left through the back door, he nearly walked straight into Fogg.
“Here’s your list.” He handed him a folded sheet of paper.
“Thank you! I wasn’t expecting you to be done so quickly. It would have taken me weeks to find them all.”
He shrugged. “That’s why Ash keeps me around.”
When morning came, he pulled out the list. It was certainly longer than he would have liked.
The man didn’t deserve what Giles was about to do, but Christina did.
Through everything, even when he’d behaved like an absolute bully, ruthlessly hurting her feelings, she hadn’t cried.
Not until she talked about her father, and what she feared would happen to him. She cared about him.
Regardless of that, by the time Giles paid the last one, he was seething. The sum was larger than he had expected it to be, and by some measure. Her father was nothing but a wastrel. No wonder the man had been desperate. But it was done, and Giles could wash his hands of any further guilt.
When he entered the man’s house, he didn’t wait to be announced, just walked past the footman and up to Mr. Pelham’s study.
The man jumped to his feet and rushed around the desk. “Oh, thank God.” He tried to look around Giles. “Is she with you?” he asked desperately.
“No.” He enjoyed a moment as the man panicked.
“But she said… The note said…” He pressed a hand to his forehead. “She was supposed to be with you.”
“Well she’s not. But she is safe.”
Mr. Pelham blew out a breath of relief. He must care about her at least a little, even if he was a terrible father with a gambling problem.
“Did you marry her? The letter said she was going to elope with you.”
“I did. No thanks to you.”
He dropped back into his chair, still trying to catch his breath. “At least she’s safe. You will be good to her, won’t you?”
Giles sighed. “Better than Lord Chilton would have been.” He pulled out the stack of vowels he’d spent the day paying off and dropped them onto the desk.
It took the man a moment to figure out what they were, but as understanding dawned, his jaw dropped. “You paid them?” He shuffled through the pages. “All of them? Why would you do that for me?”
“I didn’t do it for you. I did it for my wife.” The word grated at him, but he wanted this man to understand that she was no longer vulnerable to his influence. “And let me make something very clear. I will not do it again.”
He continued to look at the papers in disbelief. “Thank you.”
“I suggest you give up the gambling, Pelham. Next time, you’ll be at the mercy of the debt collectors.”
“I will,” he said with a nod. “May I see her?”
He’d changed his tune since the night of the ball.
Polite and respectful. Giles thought through his options.
Christina wasn’t his prisoner, but he didn’t trust this man as far as he could throw him.
“You may. You will not be welcome to stay the night, and your visits will be supervised by someone on my staff.” He scrawled the direction on a piece of paper on top of the desk.
“If I hear of any trouble you will not be allowed another visit.”
He didn’t wait for a response, simply turned and strode from the room. Hopefully that was the last time he would ever see the man. Now, his life could officially go back to how it was before he got trapped into marriage. Everything was going to be just fine.
Christina sat in the drawing room, sipping tea.
She felt stuck. She hadn’t even dared to explore most of the house yet.
For some reason the prospect was too daunting.
It was lonely, despite the numerous servants.
But she was used to being alone, since her father was often gone.
So perhaps it was just the strangeness of the house that made her feel that way.
Or its size. Despite her lack of exploration, she had no question of its immenseness.
There was nothing cozy about the place. Large, cold rooms with high ceilings, and almost no color or softness.
Except in her bedchamber. The few other rooms she’d visited had been nothing but leather and wood.
So much wood. In this one, even the walls were paneled with it.
Surely, some paint and pastel curtains wouldn’t go amiss.
“A letter for you, Mrs. Henderson.”
“Thank you, Thomas.”
Finally, a reply from Lavinia. She tore the note open and scanned the message.
She was coming to stay! Apparently, it didn’t matter that Christina had eloped, now that she was married to a rich man.
Otherwise, Lavinia’s mother would never have allowed her to come.
Society was so fickle. If she’d eloped with someone less wealthy, her reputation would have been irreparably damaged.
But money had a way of making anything acceptable.
In truth, they weren’t even fully married.
They hadn’t consummated their union, and they certainly weren’t living as husband and wife.
He’d merely given her his name and then abandoned her at his home.
Not that she was complaining. It was peaceful without him.
The staff had been welcoming and kind. And this morning, a dressmaker had appeared, unannounced.
It would seem, even tucked away in the country, he couldn’t have his wife looking like a pauper.
But again, she shouldn’t complain. Her wardrobe was sparse and quickly becoming outmoded.
It had been years since she’d last bought a new gown.
And her husband had apparently not set any kind of limit or budget.
Soon, she’d have new dresses and undergarments.
New shoes, stockings, gloves, and hats. The dressmaker had even talked of riding habits.
Were there horses here?
Of course there were. A house this size would be surrounded by land.
Was she allowed to go riding on her own?
She shrugged to herself. With her husband gone, there was no one to tell her otherwise.
After she finished her tea, perhaps she’d do just that.
She would at least have a look around outside.
Perhaps some sunshine on her face would chase away some of her doldrums.
But just as she’d set down her cup, the butler came through the doorway. “Your father is here, Mrs. Henderson. Would you like me to show him in?”
Her breath caught in her lungs. “Yes, please.” She didn’t want to face him yet. He must be hurt and angry, and probably in a panic. Oh God, what was he going to do now that she was married?
But when he walked through the door, he didn’t look angry. In fact, he looked more bright-eyed than she’d seen him in a long time. She stood, and stared wordlessly at him, her heart hammering.
“May I join you?” he asked, after a long moment of silence.
“Yes, of course.” She fluttered awkwardly toward the opposite chair.
A footman entered with a tray carrying a fresh pot and an assortment of things to nibble on. “Would you like sugar, Mr. Pelham?” he asked.
“You needn’t worry about that, Thomas. I’m happy to pour. Thank you.” She wanted to be alone with her father as quickly as possible. Their conversation was sure to be a personal one, for which she did not want an audience.
He nodded, but rather than leaving, he stationed himself across the room. Would it be rude to ask him to leave?
“You don’t need to take time away from your other duties, Thomas. If we need anything, I’ll ring for you.”
“I don’t have anything else more pressing. I’ll stay, just in case.”
“I’ll pour my own tea, shall I?” her father said irritably, lifting the pot from the tray.