Sins and Scandals Collection. Nicola Cornick
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toast.
“You don’t have to answer me,” Purchase said conversationally, “but I want you to know I’ve noticed your evasion.”
Garrick traced circles with his glass on the silken tablecloth. The brothel was busy. Every few minutes the door opened to admit another visitor. The girls fluttered past like showy butterflies. Purchase gave one of them a wicked smile and she looked at him, looked at Garrick, and raised her brows. Purchase shook his head and her mouth turned down at the corners in a pretty display of disappointment.
“Don’t mind me,” Garrick said. “I appreciate that you didn’t come here for a chat.”
“I can wait,” Purchase drawled. He sat back in the booth, toying with his glass, his gaze keen as it rested on Garrick’s face. “You know, Farne, if it did not seem so ridiculous I would say that you are suffering from unrequited love.”
Garrick laughed. “Unrequited lust, more like.”
He thought of Merryn Fenner. He had not stopped thinking of Merryn since that morning. In point of fact he had not stopped thinking of Merryn since he had dragged her out from under his bed. Love? It was not love, he thought, that hot, tight bond that held them so close. It was anger and frustration, an attraction that could not be denied, a force that impelled them together only to drive them apart. It was intolerable, like the chafing of a bond that could not be slipped. But the one thing that he could not dispute was that it was Merryn he wanted, not one of these Cyprians, no matter how prettily they might perform for him. He could take one of these girls and lose himself in forgetting for a little while, but then he knew his hunger for Merryn would come back and it would be sharper than before because what he was trying to substitute for it was hollow and worthless.
“It is Lady Merryn Fenner,” he said.
He saw the amusement leap into Purchase’s eyes. “Those Fenner girls,” he said. “Born to drive a man to perdition.”
Garrick paused in the act of refilling his glass. “You, too?” he said. “I did not know.”
“Lady Joanna,” Purchase said, nodding. “Or Lady Grant as she is now.” He shook his head. “A hopeless case but I have always been attracted to lost causes.”
“There is another sister,” Garrick pointed out. “Lady Darent.”
Purchase laughed. “I know. I’ve heard about her. Who hasn’t? Four husbands already.” He tilted his glass to his lips. “Perhaps I should meet her. Or perhaps not if I want to keep my sanity.” His amusement fled. “I’ve met Lady Merryn a couple of times. She is …” He paused. “Unusual.”
“She’s stubborn as all hell,” Garrick said. “Never gives up.”
Purchase grimaced. “Family trait.” He raised his brows. “So what is the problem?”
“Even I am not such a bastard that I would seduce the virgin sister of the man I murdered,” Garrick said.
Purchase almost choked. “Stephen Fenner,” he said. “I remember hearing about that.” He pulled a face. “I’ll allow that’s a difficult situation.” He paused. “If you want her that much you could always marry her.”
Garrick looked at him and then looked back at the brandy bottle. “Are you drunk already?” he said. “Lady Merryn would rather become a nun than marry me, or so she tells me.”
Purchase laughed. “As I said, a difficult situation.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“But not an impossible situation.”
Garrick looked up. “It is a completely impossible situation for many reasons.”
Purchase shook his head. His eyes were bright. “No, that’s a challenge in my book, not an impossibility.” He paused. “You must have had your reasons for killing her brother.”
“I did,” Garrick said. There had been many reasons to rid the earth of Stephen Fenner but he had not killed the man deliberately, in cold blood. Everything had unrolled like a horrible nightmare, too fast to think. The memories of that day swirled back around him, dark, choking. Fenner had betrayed him many times over. He had been such a scoundrel. Yet once they had been close friends. Garrick sighed, draining his brandy glass. He understood all too well the appeal of Stephen Fenner’s friendship. Fenner had helped him to forget his duty as heir to a Dukedom. The drink, the gaming, the women, all those things had been rich and glittering temptations to him, a youth steeped from birth in the obligations of his inheritance. He could hear Fenner’s voice even now.
“Duty? That’s a damned tedious business, Garrick, old fellow! Time enough for that when your papa is dead and gone …”
And then they had gone out on the town and he had woken hours later in some female boudoir tied to the bed, his head aching, his balls aching more, and absolutely no idea how he had got there. That sort of experience, for Stephen Fenner, would have been a quiet night.
“Lady Merryn wants to know the truth about her brother’s death,” he said and felt a clutch of grief and guilt at how disillusioned she would be if she ever knew.
“Then tell her, Farne,” Purchase said. “She might be shocked but I’ll wager she’ll be strong enough to take it.”
Garrick ran a hand over his hair. He knew he was drunk. It seemed to give his mind a curious clarity. He wanted to tell Merryn the truth even though he knew it would hurt her profoundly.
“She was only thirteen when her brother died,” he said slowly. “She hero-worshipped him.”
Purchase wrinkled up his face expressively. “Even so. She’s not thirteen now. She’s a grown woman. And sometimes …” He looked away. “Sometimes we all have to accept disillusionment.”
“Yes,” Garrick said. “If it was simply that …” He stopped. Could he trust Merryn when the lives of others were at stake? She was driven by a passionate desire for justice. She burned with the need to tell the truth. That very passion could see him hang and ruin lives a second time. The risk was enormous. Surely he would be a fool even to consider it. Yet the instinct to trust her was so strong.
“Twelve years ago I gave a promise never to tell,” he said. His father was dead now. Lord Fenner was dead, too. Of the original men who had made that bond only Lord Scott, Kitty’s old, embittered father, remained to hold him to his word and Churchward, of course. The lawyer knew everyone’s secrets.
“Break the promise,” Purchase said now. “If Lady Merryn is important enough to you, Farne, you will trust her with the truth.”
“Would you trust a woman who wanted to see you hang?” Garrick asked.
Purchase laughed and refilled his glass. Some liquid splashed, rich and deep, in the candlelight. “It gives a certain spice to the relationship,” Purchase drawled.
“I cannot wed again,” Garrick said. “I have—” He stopped.
I have nothing to offer, least of all to a woman as gallant and bright and brave as Merryn Fenner.
He had nothing but failure behind him in the marriage stakes, nothing but tarnished honor and the endless duties of being a Duke. Merryn, with her dauntless spirit, deserved better than a man whose soul felt as old and worn as his. She deserved a man who could love her, for a start, not one who had lost the ability to love when he had lost his honor.
“You’re a damned fool, Farne, if you let her go,” Purchase said, but without heat. “At least I tried to win Joanna—and failed,” he added ruefully. His eye fell on a redheaded girl who had drawn the curtain aside and stepped into the room. He put his glass down slowly.
“If you will excuse me,” he said.
Garrick followed his gaze. “Of course.”
As Purchase went out in response to the redhead’s come-hither smile, the