Bell pushed himself off the wall and took a step forward. “You’ll forgive me for asking why you’re quitting. But I’m concerned. I happen to know how much you hate to lose bets.”
“I don’t give a bloody damn about this bet any longer.” Rhys’s voice was flat and emotionless.
“Don’t you? Why, what in the world could make you stop caring about a bet that only a few days ago, you were intent upon winning?”
Rhys stuffed the last of his belongings into the bag. He turned his head to glare at Bell. “Do you have a point?”
Bell nodded sagely. “I always have a point.”
Rhys hoisted the full bag to his shoulder. “Then please make it, because I'm leaving.” He made to step past Bell. “Don’t worry. I’ll find a way to get you your money.”
“Spare me,” Bell replied. “I happen to be one of the few people who knows that you don't actually need the money from this bet. Or any other bet for that matter.”
Rhys froze. He slowly turned to face Bell. “How in the bloody hell do you know that?”
Bell momentarily lifted his eyes skyward and sighed. “Why is everyone always forgetting that I’m aspy? Especially my friends.”
Rhys couldn’t help the smile that popped to his lips. “Fine. I’ll have the money to you as soon as I get back to London. Is that what you want to hear?”
“No, actually, it’s not. Because I don’t give a bloody damn about the money either, and you know it. This has nothing to do with money.”
“What do you want then?” Rhys shot back.
“I want to know what happened…between you and Lady Julianna. That is why you’re forfeiting, isn’t it?”
Rhys clenched his jaw. “Then you’re going to be disappointed, I’m afraid, because I’ve no intention of telling you.”
Bell stepped to the small window above the berth and glanced out at the paddock before turning to stare at Rhys again. “You’re forgetting that I also happen to know why you agreed to go to France.”
Rhys cursed under his breath again and he slowly folded his arms over his chest. “Oh, really? Do tell. I know you won’t be satisfied until you’ve delivered your little speech. Go ahead.”
Bell shrugged one shoulder. “You went to France to run away from the first lady you ever truly loved.”
Rhys’s nostrils flared and he narrowed his eyes to slits on the marquess. “Oh, is that why?” He did his best to sound nonchalant.
“Yes, actually.” Bell nodded. “It’s precisely why. Well, that and the fact that, despite your insistence upon letting everyone in thetonbelieve you’re a drunken, penniless lout, you’re really a good man who wanted to help his country.”
“Please tell me more,” Rhys drawled, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “I’m fascinated to hear whatIthink.”
Bell leaned a hip against the windowsill. “Very well. I also happen to know that you love to go about pretending you’re devil-may-care, but the truth is you’re really worried that no one will truly love you for yourself, which is why you had to get away from Lady Julianna so quickly. She did love you for yourself. So, you invented a lot of excuses until you were finally able to hang it on that nonsense theTimesprinted, and that kept you conveniently mired in your bachelorhood.”
Rhys clenched his fist. He wanted to punch the bastard in the face so much his fingers ached. “Oh, so goingblindis an excuse now? I see.”
“Am I making you angry?” Bell continued in his own nonchalant tone. He moved from the window to stand on the opposite side of the mattress, blocking Rhys’s path out of the berth.
“If you don’t step out of my way, Iwillhit you,” Rhys growled.
“Excellent,” Bell drawled. “That tells me that I’m not missing my mark.”
“I’m warning you, Bell—” Rhys ground out through clenched teeth.
“No, I’m warningyou, Worth,” the marquess shot back, his sky-blue eyes darkening.
“What?” Rhys tossed a hand in the air. “What are you warning me about?”
“If you let her go, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life,” Bell said quietly.
Rhys brushed past him, hitting Bell’s shoulder, and knocking the marquess out of the way. “She’s already gone.”
