Seven Years to Sin(74)

I told you, Jessica mouthed from across the room, her eyes glinting with moisture.

His tension deflated by relief, he hugged Hester back. And felt nothing but bones.





After departing the Regmont town house, Alistair headed directly to Remington’s Gentlemen’s Club. He needed a drink, maybe a few.

Leaving Jessica behind was damned difficult. Everything would work against them here in London, with multiple forces attempting to drive a wedge between them. When they were together, he felt as if they could manage anything. When they were apart, his driving need made him fear the worst.

Striding through the double-door entrance, he crossed the gaming area and entered the great room beyond it, his gaze skimming over faces before spotting an empty seating area in a distant corner. His brother Albert was, unfortunately, not in attendance. The sooner Alistair apprised his family of his betrothal, the sooner he could take the steps required to shut the rest of the world out of his romantic concerns. Once Jessica was his wife, Society and its meddlesome mores and opinions could go to hell. Some institutions were still sacred; what a man did with his wife was no one’s business but his own.

As he crossed the room, he became aware of the numerous gazes following him. He gave curt nods to those he did business with and ignored the rest. When he reached the bar, he ordered scotch and asked for quill, ink, and parchment. His membership credentials were verified first, reminding him how long it had been since he last socialized in London. He moved to the quiet seat he’d found earlier and settled into the leather wingback.

“Damnation,” he muttered, lifting the tumbler to his lips. He felt the multitude of eyes on him, but couldn’t fathom the interest. He even checked his attire, looking for anything out of place that might attract undue attention.

Finding no discernible reason for the curiosity he’d roused, Alistair raked the room with a challenging glance, daring someone to approach him instead of furtively assessing him. To his surprise, some of the gentlemen smiled and waved, as if they were old friends. His sharp-edged wariness fled, replaced by mounting confusion. When a familiar tall, dark figure entered the room, Alistair stood with relief.

Michael’s gaze found him. With eyes widened by surprise, he crossed the distance between them with long strides and caught Alistair in a fierce embrace.

“Has the world gone mad?” Alistair barked, holding his arm out to prevent spilling scotch down his friend’s back.

“How are you?” Michael searched Alistair’s face, then shot a telling glance at the fellow tending the bar.

“Alive and kicking.”

“Yes, well, there is something to be said for that, is there not?”

“Absolutely.”

They sat. A moment later a tumbler was set before Michael. “I wasn’t expecting you for another few months, at the earliest,” he said.

“That would have been ideal. However, once Lady Tarley learned her sister was in the family way, she desired to come home at once.”

Michael inhaled sharply, but said nothing.

Alistair took another drink, knowing how it felt to covet another man’s wife. “Lady Regmont sends her regards. In fact, she seemed most concerned that I find you in order to do so.”

“Most likely she was thinking that you and I have a great deal in common at this point.”

“Because we both love Sheffield women? What are we to do, exchange notes?”

Michael stilled. “What did you say?”

“Come now. I’ve known how you feel about Jessica’s sibling for many years. Like Jess, your face reveals everything.”

“ ‘Jess’ you say? What in bloody hell?” Michael’s glass hit the wood tabletop with a decisive thud. “I pray you haven’t been wool headed enough to play your games with my brother’s widow.”

“Never.”

Michael exhaled his relief.

“However,” Alistair went on, “the games I play with my betrothed are no one’s concern but my own.”

“By God, Alistair …” Michael stared for a long moment, then tossed back the contents of his glass in one swallow. He signaled for another. “What do you think you’re doing? Jessica is not the type of woman a man takes lightly. Your station and means, even with marriage, won’t be enough to keep her happy. You will have to be cautious and discreet—”

“Or simply steadfast.”

“Don’t jest!”

“This is no joke to me, Tarley.” Twisting his tumbler back and forth, Alistair surveyed the room again, aware that others would think as Michael did—that Jessica would be better served by another man. “I have loved her since you and I were boys. At the time, I thought she was flawless; the one finely wrought thing in this world that might have a hope of saving my blackened soul.”

“Spare me the poetry. Byron, you’re not.”

Alistair smiled, his mood softened by thoughts of Jessica. He was about to marry a diamond of the first water, a woman so heartbreakingly perfect for him that he ached just thinking about her. There wasn’t a man in this room who didn’t know her worth, and she was his. “But I’ve since learned it is our defects that make us perfect for one another. I expect to live in monogamous marital bliss for the rest of my days.”

“And what does Masterson say about this?”