Page 99 of The Defiant One
"Of course I did." His face twisted and she saw then that he had been crying. "What choice did I have? My debts were choking me, my creditors were pounding down my door, and my sister, patron saint of dogs but too bloody selfish to help her own suffering brother, turned her back on me. I needed money, Celsie, but you wouldn't give it to me."
"I gave you enough money to feed the population of London three times over, Gerald, so don't say I didn't help you!"
"Well, I needed more than that. And since you wouldn't give me any more, the only recourse left to me was to marry an heiress . . . but even that blew up in my face, thanks to that scoundrel you call a husband!"
"Gerald —"
He hauled the pistol up, staying her, his eyes fierce. "I thought that stupid chit Miss Sarah Madden would do nicely, so I began courting her. All was going to plan, but I needed to hustle things along, so yesterday I slipped a few drops of my share of the potion into her tea. She took immediately ill, and somehow, someway, someone must have found out what I did, because it was all over London by ten o'clock last night. I was run out of my club. All but run out of London. I shall have to leave the country, but I'll tell you one thing, Celsie: I'm not leaving until I have the real aphrodisiac."
"Gerald, that was the real aphrodisiac. Why, the duke of Blackheath gave it to us himself . . ."
She trailed off as she realized what she had just said.
The duke of Blackheath had given it to them himself.
No. Oh, no. Lucien could not have substituted the real solution with a false one. He couldn't have . . . He wouldn't have —
Would he?
Gerald moved toward her and, pretending a show of brotherly love for the benefit of anyone who might be watching from the house, wrapped an arm around her waist. But the pistol nudging her ribs was no act.
"Gerald, what are you doing?!"
"You and I, Celsie, are going for a little ride on horseback where you will meet with a slight accident. Your horse is going to go galloping back to the house without his rider. Your ever-so-gallant and oh-so-worried husband is going to leave his lair and go out looking for you." He smiled, and his voice turned ugly with suppressed fury as he marched her toward the stables. "And when he does, I am going to destroy him — as he has destroyed me."
Chapter 30
The sound of distant thunder penetrated Andrew's single-minded concentration.
Frowning, he looked up and out the window, and then at the clock, surprised that so much time had slipped past without his noticing. Stripped down to his shirt, breeches, and a sleeveless waistcoat, he had spent the last two hours setting his laboratory to rights. He felt at peace, his heart happier than it had been in years. How long had it been since he'd been able to bask in the freedom and joy of having his own permanent space? This time, he would be organized. This time, he would stay organized. It was a vow he had often made in the past, but for some strange reason, had never quite been able to honor . . .
"What do you think, Esmerelda?" he asked, going over to the sofa beneath the window where the dog lay watching him. He sat down beside her, rubbing her silky ears and admiring the way his new laboratory was shaping up. "Looking pretty damned impressive, isn't it?"
She thumped her tail, then, pricking her ears, turned to look toward the door.
Andrew had left it open. Though he had always shut and barred the door against Lucien back at Blackheath, there was no need to guard his privacy from Celsie.
And yet it was not Celsie, but Lucien who suddenly appeared in the doorway.
Immediately Andrew's face darkened. "I thought I was well rid of you."
Lucien smiled and bowed. "I beg your pardon. May I come in?"
"You are in, so you might as well come the rest of the way."
The duke entered. Though he was freshly shaved and dressed in his usual understated elegance, he seemed faintly preoccupied. Tired. Distracted.
"You look like hell," Andrew said. "Evil machinations finally catching up with your conscience?"
"On the contrary. I had business in London and decided to call on you and my new sister on my way home."
"Why?"
Lucien just looked at him. "Why, to reassure myself that my decision to . . . shall we say, throw you to each other was a sound one."
"It was. Now, leave."
"Lord Andrew?"
