The Rake (Boston Belles #4)(65)

“Now,” Belle interrupted from her place at the breakfast nook, reaching into a cereal box and withdrawing one Froot Loop, popping it into her mouth. “Now’s a bomb-ass time to tell me what the shit is going on. Spare no detail, boos.”

“She does have a way with words.” Louisa swung her gaze to me, arching an eyebrow.

“You should see me with my fists,” Belle said sunnily.

I choked on my saliva.

Louisa blinked slowly, calm and collected. “Don’t let my exterior fool you. I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

If I had to put my bet on either of these women, I’d say Louisa better run, because Emmabelle Penrose could probably turn her into dust.

Still, Lou had definitely grown up, and I couldn’t help but appreciate this newly improved version of her.

Sensing a looming catfight, I sauntered toward Belle, sitting next to her. I took her hand, kissing the back of it gently. She withdrew immediately, like I’d bit her.

It was time to face the music, even if it was a terrible, sugary pop song that made my ears bleed. I turned to Belle.

“As you know, my father passed away not long ago. When I went back for the reading of the will, I discovered that he left everything to me, but on the condition that I marry Louisa. I rejected the idea immediately. My apologies for keeping you in the dark. The only reason I did so was because your shite plate seemed full enough. It was—is,” I corrected, “as far as I’m concerned, subject closed.”

“How much did he leave you?” Belle asked, businesslike.

“Thirty million pounds in estates and heirlooms,” Lou intervened from beside us. “Although Whitehall Court Castle is priceless. And by priceless, I mean, the next in line to inherit the castle is England. It’ll get turned into a museum. It is prominent in British history.”

“That’s a crap ton of dough.” Belle popped another lone Froot Loop between her luscious lips, nodding thoughtfully. No trace of emotion on her face or posture, I noticed.

Louisa turned to me. “Now I am absolutely not saying she’s a gold-digger …” She sang in a perfect, American accent, quoting the Kanye West song.

“But I ain’t messin’ with no broke.” Belle laughed. “Damn straight.”

“This discussion is futile.” I rubbed at my forehead.

Internally, however, I was beginning to question my own statement. What stopped me from marrying Louisa? She was gorgeous, well-bred, well-read, and well-mannered. She was smart and still fond of me. I would get richer, sort all my family’s problems, and have a marriage on my terms. Most of all I’d be able to marry, something I prevented myself from doing thus far.

“It shouldn’t be.” Louisa played with the teabag poking from her green tea. “There’s much to discuss, and time is running out.”

“I don’t understand. We’ve already agreed we’re not exclusive.” Belle scrunched her nose. “What’s stopping you from marrying this obnoxious, pompous, stylish woman?” She pointed at Louisa like she was a statue. “No offense.”

“From you, none taken,” Louisa huffed.

“Everybody wins,” Belle added.

Not everyone, I thought. Not me.

Belle flashed me a smile I’d never seen on her face before. It looked wounded. Almost ugly. She stood up, surveying Louisa head to toe with a look that would make most humans die from the frostbite.

“I think you two have a lot to sort out, and honestly, if I wanted to see a bunch of Brits squirming around the subject of sex and relationships, I’d watch Sex Education. At least I’d get a few laughs out of it.”

With that, she grabbed the cereal box from the nook and made her way to her room, slamming the door behind her.

Louisa turned to me. “Darling, that woman is not fully cultured. How could you possibly find her attractive? How old is she? Twenty-four? Twenty-five? She’s hardly even a woman.”

“She is the most maddening, infuriating, annoying woman I’ve ever come across, but a woman nonetheless,” I replied. Taking out my tin of rollies, then thinking better of it, I set it down on the nook.

Now that Sweven lived here, I couldn’t smoke indoors. I had her and the baby to think about.

Louisa stood up and waltzed over to me, lacing her arms around my shoulders.

It felt good to be embraced by a woman who wasn’t constantly on the brink of busting my balls for breathing in her vicinity.

“Lou,” I said softly, moving my hand across her back. “I appreciate the last-ditch effort, but it isn’t going to work.”

“Why?” she asked, her dark, deep eyes dancing in their sockets. “You’ve always been such a cunning, smart man. Practical and pragmatic. Why not marry into a world of wealth and titles? Even your little girlfriend thinks it’s a bad idea to pass this chance up.”

I grabbed her arms and lowered them gently. “I wish I could give you what you want.”

“Why can’t you?” Her voice cracked.

“Edwin,” I answered simply. I was never going to let him win.

“He’s not going to know.” Her eyes filled with tears. “And he cannot hurt you anymore. Look, I know you don’t want to play into his hands. But he is not here to see this. He died knowing you defied him.”