Lord Trent: Love's Price Part 44

"But her chast.i.ty!"

Obviously, Trent was unaware of Helen's ruined condition, and James wasn't about to enlighten him.

"I informed her," Trent said, "that I'd help her secure a new situation, and I'm being more than generous. I mean, a liaison with an earl is nothing to sneeze at. She'd be very lucky to have you agree."

James snorted with disgust, and he pushed back his chair and went to the window. Off in the east, dawn was breaking.

Blindly, he gazed at the brightening sky, as his mind reeled with questions. Wasn't Helen increasing? Wasn't she married? And if she was, why was Trent bartering her away as if she were an African slave?

None of it made any sense.

"I'm acquainted with Helen," he admitted, turning to glare at Trent.

"Are you?"

"She worked for me last summer-as a companion to my ward."

"How interesting." Trent pointed to the money on the table. "Can we get on with it? I'm bored by your chatter."

"She's married."

"Who told you that?"

"Her cousin. He said he had wed her, that she was...having a baby. There was some rush to the ceremony."

"She's not married," Trent claimed, "and she's not increasing, so I guess her cousin was lying for some reason."

At the stunning news, James's heart was hammering so frantically that he worried it might simply burst out of his chest. He rubbed his fingers over it, anxious to slow its frenzied beating.

"How do you know all this?" James inquired, struggling to seem indifferent.

"Because she showed up on my stoop the other day, begging for some charity, but I'm tapped out, and I can't a.s.sist her. If you want her, it's fine by me."

"Aren't you magnanimous? Just a kindly father watching out for one of his girls!"

Trent refused to take the bait, refused to respond to James's insult.

"It's either you," Trent blandly retorted, "or I'll convince someone else to buy her."

"Buy her!"

"I'm not inclined to have her starve on the streets, and she's too pretty to labor as a housemaid. She should be a rich man's paramour. Now then, may we resume? Or must we d.i.c.ker until noon?"

"Why don't you dower her? Why not find her a husband?"

"I realize it's commonly reported that I dower my daughters, but the rumor is false. Why would I bother?"

Trent was still in his chair, calmly sipping his brandy. He lit a cheroot, and he casually smoked it, waiting for a reply, but what was James supposed to say?

He reviewed every word Nigel Stewart had uttered during their fateful meeting at Brookhaven, just as he a.n.a.lyzed his brief encounter on the lane with Helen as he was riding away. He hadn't asked her if she'd wed Nigel; he'd merely a.s.sumed that Nigel's comments were true.

What if they weren't? What if Nigel had deceived James?

Apparently, he had, and Helen was now dest.i.tute and in jeopardy again. James could go to her, could apologize and propose marriage as he'd been wanting to do all along. But he'd have to give up his mission to destroy Trent.

He a.s.sessed the table and the mountains of coins that were now his. James could walk away, or he could force the issue, could wager over Helen and ruin her father in the process.

What would Helen think of James's behavior? What would she think of how he'd plotted and carried out his revenge? If she ever learned that he'd won her-in a card game!-how would he ever explain his conduct?

Trent had insisted that he wouldn't bother with her, so if James didn't s.n.a.t.c.h her up, who might Trent offer her to next? He shuddered to imagine.

He couldn't let Trent do such a horrid thing to Helen, but to save her, he would have to abandon his quest for vengeance.

Was there any choice? When he loved Helen, when he'd been given this second chance to make her his own, was there really any alternative?

"You're a swine," he charged.

Trent chuckled. "Is that the best you can do?"

"I ought to call you out."

"To fight about what? My daughter-or your mother?"

It was the hidden topic that had been wedged between them all night, with neither of them mentioning his mother. With Trent blithely tossing the forbidden subject out into the open, James was too shocked to react.

To his great surprise, there were a thousand questions churning inside that he was afraid to ask.

The only information he'd ever gleaned about his mother's desertion had been provided by his father. If pressed for answers, what might Trent say?

James was too terrified to find out.

He stomped over, grabbed Trent's promissory note, and ripped it to shreds. Then he pushed back the money, piles and piles of coins toppling off the table and dropping onto Trent's lap.

"I won't buy Helen from you," James fumed, "and I won't let you gamble her away."

"She's very fetching; someone will want her."

James had had enough, and he seized Trent by the lapels of his coat.

"You will leave her be. I will see to her. She deserves better than to be used and abused by you."

"Of course she does," Trent concurred, batting James away, "but why on earth would you presume that you should see to her welfare?"

"I love her," James declared. "I've always loved her."

"You love Helen? I could have sworn you said she was your employee."

"She was much more than that."

"Was she? I would never have pegged you as the type to tumble your servants, but then, who can know what a fellow is truly like, hmm?"

Trent sipped his brandy again, perfectly composed and not evincing the slightest sign that they'd almost come to blows.

"Don't ever tell her," James threatened, "that you tried to sell her as if she was a prized cow at the market."

"Why shouldn't I? She's nothing to me. Why would I care about her feelings?"

"Shut the h.e.l.l up, you vile knave! I won't have her learning how despicable you are."

"You don't think she's already guessed?"

James grabbed his coat and stuffed his arms into the sleeves. He was sickened by his nearness to Trent, and as he prepared to depart, he was amazed to discover that he felt lighter of heart, as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

There was probably a moral lesson that should have been obvious, but at the moment, he couldn't fathom what it might be. He simply wanted to be out of Trent's presence and to never set eyes on him again.

"In case you were wondering," Trent said as James headed for the door, "she's at Phillip's house."

"What?" James whipped around.

"She's at Phillip's, and before you race over there, there's one other thing you should know."

"What is it?"

"I understand that you've been reared on some dreadful stories about me."

"Stories that I'm positive are all true."

"Are they?" Trent's expression was stoic, enigmatic. "I didn't encourage your mother to flee to France with me. I wasn't acquainted with her in London, and I was already in Paris when she arrived."

"What are you saying? Are you claiming you were innocent in the whole affair?"

"Never innocent. Not I. But you're a grown man now. Perhaps you should consider what her life was like with your drunken father. Perhaps you should consider how unhappy she was."

Trent's comments rattled loose the very foundation of James's existence. Had his mother been unhappy? Had she run from his father's drinking? James recollected that his father had started imbibing after the scandal, not before. Had his father always been a drunkard?

When his mother had left, James had been very young, and his view of his family's history was distorted by that fact.

What if his father's account was false? What if the actual version of events was more complicated than James wanted to admit?

"So I suppose," James sneered, "that you were merely being a good friend to her-helping her through a difficult time and all that."

"I'm not that n.o.ble, but I never decline what is freely offered."

"Is it your pathetic contention that my mother chased after you rather than the other way around?"

"I would never contradict a lady."

"I'm sure you're a veritable font of chivalry."

Trent lifted an elegant brow. "I raise no defense with regard to my behavior, and I wouldn't pretend to be honorable, but I'm not necessarily the villain in every tale that's told about me."

James turned and hurried out, too stunned to argue or retort.

"Well," Phillip asked, "what happened?"

Charles glared at his son as he stood and began stacking gold coins in the case in which he'd brought them.

Phillip had been downstairs, waiting for the ordeal to conclude. It had taken forever to best Westwood, and Charles had to give Westwood credit. He was an excellent card player. Charles was just a better one.

"I did exactly as you requested," Charles said.

"And...?"

"He was too courteous to ruin me and too gallant to wager over Helen."

"So my scheme worked."

"Yes, but I don't know why you didn't simply demand that he marry her."

"Some men can't be ordered about," Phillip stated.

"No, they can't."

"Will he propose?"

"I'm certain of it. He thinks I'll sell her if he doesn't." Charles shook his head. "Honestly, the things some people are willing to believe. It boggles the mind."

"He doesn't like you."

"Once he's wed her, he'll get over it."

"Here's hoping. I want both twins to have a stable situation. I can't have you fighting with him after the wedding."

"What's to fight about? Westwood's all right. His brother's even better. I have no quarrel with either boy. They're nothing like their father. Thank G.o.d."

"Have you decided on the dowries you'll provide to the twins?"

"Yes, Phillip, yes. Must you continue to badger me?"

Charles threw up his hands in disgust. Phillip never stopped his financial harangue, and Charles couldn't figure out why he put up with it.

"I trust you'll be generous?" Phillip nagged.

"Shall I just open my purse and let you steal it all?"

"You have plenty."

"I'm not a bottomless pit of money."