“As you wish,” he said smoothly without moving from his chair. “Of course, I’m confident the papers will be delighted to receive word from the Lady R. regarding her recent liaison with Lord S. and how his lordship is minus a ballock. It will be the most sensational news they’ve printed in years.”
Ruth gasped in horror at the viscount’s words. How in God’s name did the man know about Garrick’s disfigurement? Garrick had paid his uncle to stay away from his family. For the first time, she wondered if what he’d really been doing was paying for the man’s silence. But how had Tremaine learned the truth? Did the man know Garrick’s uncle?
She sent up a fervent prayer that the bastard hadn’t found the woman who’d humiliated Garrick and learned the truth from her. Something told her the viscount would take pleasure in tormenting Garrick with such knowledge. But it was the thought of what Garrick would think when he read the papers that sickened her.
The public humiliation would be devastating for him. And if she didn’t do as Tremaine demanded she’d be responsible for his pain. She met Tremaine’s smug look in a state of shock as her knees threatened to give out beneath her. She loved Garrick, and she refused to let anyone humiliate him in such a fashion. She knew all too well what that type of mortification was like.
Slowly, she sank down into her chair. Think. She needed time to think. Time to figure out a way to beat this bastard at his own game. She wet her dry lips and lust swept across Tremaine’s features. She immediately regretted the action. Somehow she’d find a way out of this quagmire, she just wasn’t sure how. She sent her blackmailer a look of intense loathing.
“What makes you think I’ll agree to your blackmail scheme?” she bit out between clenched teeth.
“Because I understand people, Lady Ruth,” he said with a venomous smile. “You’re in love with Stratfield, and you’ll not betray his secret.”
“Even if what you say were true,” she said, refusing to confirm the man’s suspicions, “I fail to see how my participation in this scheme of yours serves any purpose where his lordship is concerned. Lord Stratfield holds me in contempt and has no interest in me at all.”
“Have you not read the papers of late, my dear?” Tremaine arched his eyebrows at her. “The young man has taken to drinking heavily and boxing with commoners. He bears all the signs of a man infatuated with a woman.”
Young man.
The silent insult behind the words didn’t escape her. Despite his determination to make her his mistress, even Tremaine thought Garrick too young for her. The sudden image of Garrick drinking and fighting to excess made her heart skip a beat.
She’d not had the courage to read the papers for the past week, and she’d spent the majority of her time at the orphanage. The behavior the viscount described was clearly unlike Garrick. Was it possible he cared about her more than she’d given him credit for? No. If Garrick were in love with her, he would have found a way to try and change her mind. He was far too persistent not to do so.
“You have still not explained your reason to include me in your scheme.”
“There is a personal score to settle between you and me.” The viscount leaned forward, his gaze narrowing at her in a way that frightened her. “No one interferes in my personal business without consequences.”
“If you’re referring to Lady Lynmouth, it was clear to me the lady didn’t want your attentions.”
“I would have persuaded her otherwise, except you interfered.” There was a vicious note of anger in the viscount’s voice as he got to his feet. “I’ve decided to teach you a lesson, while ensuring my financial stability. Stratfield has been a thorn in my side for some time. I shall enjoy pointing out to him that only a real man, such as myself, could ever satisfy his one-time mistress.”
Dear Lord, what was she going to do? She had to find a way to let Garrick know what Tremaine was up to. The bastard strolled around the desk toward her. The smile on his lips didn’t reach his flat gaze as he pulled her to her feet.
“I think we have an understanding, don’t we, Lady Ruth?” His hand cupped her chin and forced her to look at him. “Stratfield will pay for my silence, and because you are my mistress, I shall maintain your secrets. Shall we seal our bargain with a kiss?”
She couldn’t remember ever being frightened of a man before, but she was of this one. His arm snaked around her waist and he tugged her against him. His lips met hers, and a shudder wracked her frame at the way her skin crawled from his touch. He wasn’t unskilled, but as his tongue probed her mouth, her stomach roiled. Dear God, how was she going to stand welcoming this man into her bed?
Garrick. She needed to remember this was all for Garrick. In the back of her head, she could hear the wonderful sound of his voice, and the viscount stiffened against her. As he stepped back from her, Tremaine turned his head and smiled. It was a terrible smile, and dread trailed a stream of icy water down her back and spread its way all over her body.
Her gaze followed the viscount’s, and the sight of Garrick standing in the center of the room made her heart shatter. His face was white with anger and something else she didn’t want to label for fear it would make her sob with misery.
17
Rage.
It consumed him with a white-hot heat that threatened to obliterate his sense of reason. He’d wanted Tremaine dead for some time now, and perhaps today was the day to take care of the bastard. The man’s sneering smile only intensified the fury inside him. Fists clenched, he remained rooted where he stood, despite the urgent need to charge across the room and savagely rip the man apart.
And Ruth.
He couldn’t believe she was in Tremaine’s arms willingly, even if she wasn’t making any effort to free herself from the son of a bitch’s embrace. If anything she seemed shocked, almost frightened, by his appearance in the orphanage’s small office.
“Ah, the illustrious Baron Stratfield. How convenient. You’ve saved me the trouble of calling on you.”
“Let her go, Tremaine.” Despite the softness of his voice, the words possessed a lethal quality that made the other man flinch. The viscount recovered quickly.
“Perhaps the lady doesn’t wish to be free.”
Tremaine smiled with far too much confidence as he turned his attention to Ruth. When the man didn’t release her from his arms, Garrick swung his gaze to her. The minute his eyes met hers, she quickly looked away. She was afraid. He looked back at Tremaine. The man was far too pleased with himself—he was holding something over her head. But what?
“I find it difficult to believe that Ruth is remotely interested in you, Tremaine. After all, your father was responsible for the destruction of her parents’ marriage, and she knows what you did to Mary,” he said as he looked at the man with disgust.
“Your recently departed Mary was not the sweet miss you think she is.” Tremaine snorted. “Be that as it may, I’ve explained myself to Ruth, and she’s agreed to my patronage.”
The viscount glanced at Ruth with a smile of satisfaction before he turned back to Garrick. The man was lying. How in the hell could Ruth possibly consider a liaison with this bastard? She knew what the man was.
Unless—he dismissed the possibility in the blink of an eye. She might be a courtesan, but her reaction to him had never been that of a woman merely servicing her lover. There had been something more between them. She’d ended her affair with him for one reason and one reason only—he was younger than her. He’d been so certain of it, he’d come here today to convince her the gossips were wrong. His ability to satisfy her hadn’t played any role in her decision. He refused to believe otherwise.
“I don’t believe you,” he snarled.
“I can assure you it’s quite true, Stratfield,” the viscount said with a condescending smile. “At least Lady Ruth will be able to welcome a real man into her bed.”
Garrick froze. His gaze shifted back to Ruth. Still in Tremaine’s arms, she kept her face averted, but there was something in her demeanor that troubled him. Despite the warning in the back of his head, he dismissed it. He didn’t think for one minute that she’d betrayed him. Still, it troubled him that she wouldn’t look at him. Not taking his eyes off her, he cleared his throat.
“Tell me why you’d be willing to let this bastard into your bed, Ruth.” He watched as she freed herself from Tremaine’s arms and turned toward him. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking.
“I am free to see who I wish, my lord.” Her voice was devoid of any emotion. His jaw locked tight with frustration. She’d not answered him.
“You see, Stratfield. The lady has come to her senses.” Tremaine’s smile was malicious.
“Has she?” he replied in a sardonic tone. “I sincerely doubt Ruth would even consider getting into bed with a bounder like you under any circumstances. Something tells me there’s more to her agreement than either of you are saying.”
“True. But then I have it on good authority that the lady wasn’t satisfied with a man who has only one ballock.”
The viscount’s words ripped into him like a gunshot. Desperately fighting to collect his wits, he forced a strained smile as he met the man’s snide look. His uncle. That son of a bitch had told Tremaine about his defect. His fears had become a reality. The question was, what did the viscount want? He arched his eyebrow at the other man.
“You have an active imagination, Tremaine.” The amusement in his voice was sufficient for the man to eye him with a calculating frown. An instant later, the viscount smiled with contentment.
“You surprise me, Stratfield. Personally, I’m amazed at your ability to perform at all despite having only one ballock. But did you really think Lady Ruth would keep your secret?”
The man’s words sucked the air from his lungs. Rigid with disbelief, he focused his gaze on Ruth. Although she was pale, her expression revealed nothing. When she didn’t contradict Tremaine, his heart twisted so violently in his chest he wanted to shout from the pain of it.
She’d betrayed him.
In the next breath he rejected the notion. He didn’t believe it. It had to have been his uncle who’d revealed his secret. It couldn’t have been Ruth. She wouldn’t have betrayed him in that way. A mocking voice in the back of his head sneered at his pathetic protests—of course she’d betrayed him. If it had been his uncle, Tremaine would have no reason to involve Ruth.
Although she was no longer in Tremaine’s arms, she’d made no effort to put any significant distance between herself and the bastard. She’d agreed to become the man’s mistress. What further proof did he need that she’d told Tremaine his secret? Perhaps hearing the fact straight from her lips. Again a voice deep inside taunted him with his desire not to believe what was so plainly visible.
“You seem at a loss for words, Stratfield.” The viscount’s smug tone made him narrow his gaze at the man.
“Not at all.” He feigned nonchalance with a shrug. “I’m simply puzzled as to why my physical traits are of such great interest to you. Between you and Wycombe, it would seem buggery is becoming one of your favorite pastimes. A diversion that holds no interest for me.”
Fury darkened the other man’s face, and Garrick smiled bitterly. The balance of power had shifted in his direction.
“I doubt you’ll be quite this complacent when the Set discovers you’re a freak of nature.”
“You say that as if I care what people think.” Garrick shook his head in a fatalistic manner before glancing at Ruth. Despite her pale color, her features remained composed and unreadable. Guilty, simply by virtue of the fact that she didn’t deny Tremaine’s allegations.
“I think you care a great deal,” Tremaine said with a calculated look. “In fact, I think you’ll pay me to keep silent.”
“Pay you?” He laughed at the man.
The fact that he’d managed to do so amazed him. Tremaine was threatening to expose him to the world, something he fought long and hard to prevent. He didn’t know whether to choke the son of a bitch or to simply walk out and take his chances that no one would believe the man. But then there was Ruth. People
would
believe her.
The bitter taste of bile rose in his throat at the thought of her betrayal. If there was anyone’s throat he wanted to wrap his hands around, it was hers. How long had it taken her to run to Tremaine with his secret? He glared in her direction, and what little color she had left in her face drained away.
For a brief moment, he found himself thinking she was merely a pawn in Tremaine’s hands. The bastard could be holding something over her head. He swallowed hard as her betrayal pushed itself back into the forefront of his mind. He was making excuses for her again. She’d told this bastard his secret, and now he was supposed to pay for Tremaine’s silence.
He’d paid his uncle to keep quiet. Paying Tremaine would be no different. That wasn’t true. Despite providing his uncle with a living,
he’d
made the terms of agreement, not his uncle. He’d been the one to stipulate what Beresford could or couldn’t do. He’d clearly outlined the consequences if his uncle failed to abide by the agreement, and it appeared the man had kept to their bargain.
Instead, the least likely of sources had been his undoing. A woman. It was as if Bertha was taunting him all over again. The memories of the past welled up over him, and his body hardened with tension. He’d never thought it would be a woman who would betray him. Especially not Ruth.
A savage desire to hit something snaked its way through his body. She’d destroyed him. She’d told Tremaine the truth. Even if he paid the man, what would stop the bastard from revealing his secret to someone else? The blackmail would never end. The viscount uttered a grunt of frustration as he glared at Garrick.
“You seem to have lost your tongue, Stratfield.” The man’s amusement was edged with anger.
“On the contrary. I’m simply trying to understand if I heard you correctly.”