Page 137 of A Gentleman's Wager
Even as Bella flew from Lucerne, she regretted her words, but her emotions were too wild to even attempt to snatch them back. She crashed through the billiards room and out through the French doors onto the courtyard. Ran as fast as the frost and her long skirts would allow her, the wind in her face, biting where the tear tracks streaked her cheeks. She had damned herself by giving in to her own fears. Unravelled the grand future of possibilities she’d build for herself over these last months with a few hot-headed remarks. Her future as a brood mare for the next generation of Lumbs, Cockrofts, or Gaukrogers was now assured.
“I didn’t mean it,” she shrieked into the air. “I didn’t—” A great gasping sob robbed her of breath. She staggered into the side of the fountain, gripped its stone base with clawed hands. “How could you ask it, Lucerne? How? You know he would laugh in my face.” And it would kill her to hear it. She would shrivel up into nothing. “He’ll never share you.” He refused to even share himself. Ever since the night she’d helped Charles escape he’d barely acknowledged her existence, and when he did, it was always with a sneer or a scowl.
Her tears ran faster now, raining onto the cracked paving at her feet. Stubbornly, Bella scrubbed at her eyes with her cuffs, and threw her back against the marble of the fountain’s bowl. She could not bring herself to even look back at the house. Lucerne hadn’t followed her, proof again that he didn’t hold her in nearly so much affection as she wished.
“If I thought even for a moment—”
“Bella?”
Shocked, she froze, eyes unblinking. Vaughan crunched across the frozen ground and presented himself to her view. How the universe must be laughing at her, that of all the people it might have sent, it was he who’d come after her.
Defiantly, she raised her head. Let him see her tears, her red-rimmed eyes, and puffy nose. “Have you come to gloat?”
But where she’d expected to find mockery and triumph, there lay only questions.
“I was in the stag parlour,” he said mildly. “I heard yours and Lucerne’s voices.” Then it was a wonder that he hadn’t raced to offer comfort to Lucerne. “Why are you fighting?”
“I don’t owe you an explanation.”
Stubbornly, she crossed her arms.
Vaughan regarded her curiously. “Even for you, your behaviour is outlandish.”
“Then it is a good thing I place no value on your regard.” She drummed her foot against the cobbles. “Oh, do leave me alone. Can it not be enough for you that you’ve already won? He’s yours. I won’t even expect you to be gracious.”
Her words had the opposite effect to the one she’d intended. Instead of leaving, he gripped fast her upper arm. “What happened? It makes no sense that you would suddenly give up. What happened to all your fight?”
All at once, her throat was dry as a riverbed in a drought.
Vaughan studied her carefully, taking in the stubborn tilt of her chin, the equally defiant pucker of her mouth, her red nose, and the salt-tracks drying on her skin. Each contact making her shiver as if it were a caress. “I know you love him. So, why would you give in.”
Bella tore away from him, his touch too disturbing to her. Too confusing. In any case, even if it were possible to put into words all that she was feeling, she wouldn’t share those insights with him. He who’d robbed her of everything. Instead, she turned her back on him, and withdrew to the sanctuary of her beloved willow tree.
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Vaughan
When he’d witnessed Bella’s flight, it had been instinct that prompted Vaughan to follow. Now, he backtracked into the house intent on finding Lucerne and ascertaining what had erupted. The drawing room stood empty, only a scattering of nut cases before the fireplace indicating anyone had been present.
“Lord Marlinscar?” he enquired of the footman in the hall.
“He’s called for his horse. You’ve just missed him, my lord.”
Lucerne rode hard when he needed to clear his head. It would not be of benefit to follow him. He would simply have to wait to get to the bottom of things.
Lucerne did not return until after nightfall. Vaughan slipped into his sitting room as soon as one of the servants brought him a note to say the master had returned. He found his lover suffering the ministrations of his valet, who was trying to swaddle him in a dressing gown. With a sharp bark and a turn of his wrist, Lucerne sent the man scurrying off.
“Are you here to claim your victory?” he asked.
If it were that, it seemed a rather hollow one. “To establish what in heaven’s name is going on.”
Lucerne took a seat on the settee before the fire and stretched out his legs so that he could warm his feet. “Miss Rushdale and I have determined our incompatibility. It seems we are not so suited to one another as either of us supposed.”
“That is painfully untrue.” He took the seat next to Lucerne’s.
“Whether it is or not is irrelevant. It’s over between us. She will return to her brother after the wedding, and I will head south, back where I belong.”
Vaughan gave a huff. “What you mean is that you’re running away again.”
