Page 83 of The Duke of Daring (The Untouchables)
“I’ll marry you.” As soon as she said the words, giddy happiness swelled in her chest. She never thought to say those words, let alone to a man she loved.
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist. “Thank you.”
He sounded relieved. Was he as happy as she was? A shadow crept over her jubilation.
“Dartford!”
They both turned their heads at the sound of his name. It was Charles, his long strides devouring the path and then veering away from it as he came toward them.
“Good afternoon, Charles,” Andrew said. He still held Lucy’s hand. “Do you know Miss Parnell?”
Charles inclined his head toward her. He looked a trifle unkempt—his hair, usually teased and styled, was rather flat, and his cravat was askew. “We met a few years ago. I’m not sure Miss Parnell remembers.”
She hadn’t before, but now that he mentioned it, she recalled being introduced at a house party she’d attended with Aquilla and her family. In fact, she thought he’d invited her to play Blind Man’s Bluff, and she’d declined in favor of riding. In retrospect, she was glad he hadn’t recognized her while she’d been dressed as a man. “I do remember, Mr. Charles. How lovely to see you again.”
He frowned at her before turning his attention to Andrew. “I hate to have this conversation in front of her, but I’m afraid I’m rather desperate. Did you receive the note from Mr. Black?”
Andrew’s hand went tense in hers. “Yes. What do you know of it?” The question was razor-sharp.
Charles’s mouth was drawn tight, his posture stiff. “I regret to say that I am Mr. Black. I need that money, Dart.” He twisted his hands together. “Why didn’t you send it to the club as I asked?”
Andrew let go of her hand and took a step forward. He grabbed Charles’s lapel. “You’reBlack?Youthreatened her? I ought to call you out, you miserable piece of offal.”
Lucy clasped Andrew’s forearm—the one that wasn’t gripping Charles. “Andrew, stop! You can’t do that here.”
“You don’t know what he’s done.” He didn’t take his eyes from Charles. “I’m not giving you a shilling.”
Charles’s gaze flicked to Lucy for just a moment. “Dart, please. I don’t want to expose her.”
Lucy froze. She stared at Andrew, unable to look at Charles. “What is he talking about?”
Andrew spared her only the briefest of glances. “He threatened to expose you as Smitty unless I gave him five thousand pounds.” He snarled at Charles and tightened his grip. “You won’t say anything. She’s going to be my countess—no one will believe what you say. Good God, man, are you really in such dire straits? I thought we were friends.”
Charles’s pallor took on a grayish tinge, and he seemed to shrink. Andrew finally let go of him, shoving at his chest as he did so.
After stumbling backward, Charles regained his footing. “I’m a dead man, then,” he whispered.
Lucy watched the light go out of Charles’s eyes, and she felt a surge of pity. His excessive gambling had led her to dislike him, but now she regretted that. He was deeply troubled—as her father had been. She thought of all the times her father had been in debt and of the things he’d had to sell to keep himself out of prison.
She looked at Charles. “Will you be arrested?”
“Worse. I borrowed money from a dangerous fellow. Apparently, he works for Gin Jimmy.”
Andrew shook his head. “Hellfire, Charles.”
Lucy looked between them before settling on Andrew. “Who’s that?”
“A notorious criminal. I saw him once when I ventured into St. Giles. It was another of my daring adventures.”
“That’s one of the most dangerous places in London.” Lucy hadn’t realized the extent of his activities. She’d thought climbing the dome of St. Paul’s or ballooning was risky enough, but entering St. Giles was positively deadly. Or it could have been. “You’re mad,” she breathed, momentarily losing track of the current conversation.
“He’s going to kill me,” Charles said. “If I don’t give him the money tomorrow.”
Andrew wiped a hand over his eye and moved toward Charles. “We’ll work this out. Meet me at my town house.”
Charles nodded, then looked at Lucy. “My apologies, Miss Parnell. I’m not proud of what I did. I liked you. Rather, I liked Smitty.” He hung his head as he turned and walked away.
Andrew touched her hand, but she drew it away. “Where will you be tonight? I’ll come find you.”
