The Trouble With Sin (Devilish Vignettes (the Devil DeVere) #2)(10)

"Could you please put it on my account," Simon asked.

Harris' brows pulled together. "Another advance? I have yet to see even a page of your verse."

"Very well, Harris." Simon plucked out his gold cravat pin and handed it to Harris. "You may accept this as surety until I deliver the promised work."

"I never had the least doubt." Harris accepted the pin and then conducted them to a modest but clean chamber.

The moment the door closed, Simon turned the key and took Freddie into his arms. "Freddie, my dearest Freddie," he murmured, plying kisses to her cheeks, her throat, and finally her lips. Rather than melting into his arms, she remained stiff and unresponsive. "What is it now?" he cried.

"'You said you'd take me to the theatre."

"And I shall, dearest," he appeased. "But it's been a very long day, and I desire to be alone with you now. Have I not treated you well? I bought your gown, your slippers, the dinner, the wine. I have kept my promise Freddie…and then some."

"You also said I wouldn't have to wear breeches again."

"But, my dear, you must understand you cannot live in the house at St. James as a woman."

"Then maybe I need another house," she said.

"Freddie, please be reasonable. The rooms at St. James have been paid up for six months. It makes little difference if you must pretend to be a valet for a while longer. Your life will not change from what it was. You will be comfortably housed and well fed. You had no prior complaint, did you?"

"But that was before I came here. I like this place better with all the fine ladies and gents."

"But it's a damned bawdy house! You can't live here!"

She gave an indignant sniff. "Others do. And they don't have to dress like boys."

"Enough, Freddie!" Simon groaned. "I have done all in my power to delight you, yet nothing seems to satisfy you. And I certainly am far from satisfied."

She regarded him with wide misty eyes and quivering lips. "You are vexed."

This time Simon was unmoved by her tearful display. "Damned right, I'm vexed! What have I received for my largesse but complaints and ingratitude?"

"All right, Simon." She threw down her lace fan with a sigh. "I'll let you take me to bed." She turned her back to him and reached for her laces. "I need help with these."

Simon watched her struggle with the gown, making no move to assist. He should have been elated after days of torturous anticipation, but in these last moments something had changed. "You needn't bother, Freddie."

Her dark eyes flashed. "What do you mean?"

"It has been a long day for both of us. I'm going to leave now."

"But—I want you to stay," she insisted.

"You should have thought of that before."

She clutched at his arm with panicked look. "You are not coming back, are you?"

He pried her fingers from his sleeve one by one. "The clothes are yours to keep or to pawn as you see fit. The lodging in St. James will remain yours if you desire it, but no, Freddie, I shall not return. Perhaps I'll suffer remorse later, but at present I have no desire for you."

Like the calm after a storm, his passion for her had spent.

***

Simon awoke the next morning without regret—at least not for leaving. His only remorse was that he'd allowed her to play him for a fool. Nevertheless, he recalled his promise to DeVere to look after her. Unable to break faith with his best friend, he returned to Covent Garden, resolved only to see Freddie safely returned to St. James.

To his surprise, the room was empty when he lifted the latch and entered. All was in perfect order as if it hadn't been slept in. Had something happened to her? He rapidly descended the stairs in search of Harris. "Have you seen my sister?" he anxiously inquired.

"Indeed I have, Mister Singleton. Last evening after you departed."

"Last evening? But she was in her room when I left."

"That may be, but the wen…er…lady… appeared in the late hours in the gaming rooms. She was in the company of Ensign Browning who won five hundred guineas at hazard. He kissed her and called her his good luck charm after his lucky cast. He later announced he was taking the wench to Gretna Green. Of course our good Ensign was quite disguised at that point. The stupid sod will sober up in a few days to find himself leg-shackled."

Simon glowered. It was bad enough to have lost his head over her, but far worse to learn he was tossed aside for the very first pigeon with plumper pockets.

"Look, lad," Harris consoled. "There's no cause to mourn the loss. You should thank the gods to be rid of the baggage."

Harris remark was little balm to his bruised pride. He'd sought more than a lover in Freddie. Perhaps he'd expected too much. He'd been convinced that with her as his muse, he would surely ascend to hitherto unknown poetic heights. He'd dreamed of finding the woman with the key to unlock his passions and open his creative floodgates. Perhaps he'd expected too much. Maybe his longed-for muse was like the mythical chimera… and simply did not exist.





Chapter Five


Covent Garden, Westminster – six months later

With a voluptuous, raven-haired beauty draped on either arm, Simon entered the crowded taproom of the Shakespear's Head. He exchanged pleasantries with several acquaintances before catching the eye of the establishment's headwaiter.