“I take it this conversation will warrant it,” came Richardson’s dry response.
Filling two tumblers, Raphe handed one to his friend. “There’s something I haven’t told you—something that could very well bring scandal to my doorstep if Guthrie’s in the mood to follow up on it.”
Richardson paled, but his expression remained firm. “Tell me.”
“A couple of hours before receiving word of my inheritance, I struck a deal with Guthrie, one that I chose to walk away from. Given my new situation, I knew following through with it would have been impossible without tarnishing my sisters’ and my own reputation. We would have lost our chance at the future I wished to give them by claiming the title. But Guthrie wouldn’t have seen it that way. He would have forced me to make good on my promise, so I ran, hoping he’d never suspect where to find me.”
Taking a long sip of his drink, Richardson set his tumbler aside and calmly asked, “What was the nature of the deal?”
Inhaling deeply, Raphe forced the words out. “I was to fight the world champion title holder—a man known as the Bull, in return for my freedom.”
“But you’ve already bought your freedom.” Richardson had dropped the money off at Guthrie’s house himself, disguised as a messenger. “More than that even. So then—”
“It’s a prestigious fight that’s going to bring in a fortune. Guthrie knows I’m his only chance at winning. My freedom was my incentive, but the real prize is the money he stands to make off of me. I don’t think he’s going to walk away from this so easily.”
“I take it you shook on it?”
Raphe nodded.
“Jesus!” Shoving his hand through his neatly combed hair, Richardson disturbed the locks, producing a wild look of dishevelment. “It’s a matter of honor then. Extricating yourself won’t be easy.” He was quiet for a moment before saying, “We can hope he won’t know where to find you, and if he does, we can try paying him off—as much money as necessary. One thing is for certain, however. You cannot engage in that fight.”
Agreeing, Raphe tossed back his drink, hoping this mess would soon be forgotten.
Chapter 16
Lying in bed that night, Gabriella stared up at the ceiling unable to sleep. She simply couldn’t stop thinking about the present that Anna had brought to her room after supper—a book about insects. North American insects. A copy she’d yet to acquire. She’d read it until her mind had boggled with all the information that clung to the pages. And the drawings! She let out a sigh. She knew precisely who the giver was, however inappropriate that might be. But she didn’t care. She was too pleased to care, too thrilled with this new acquisition and too besotted with the man who’d known how much this and the beetle would mean to her.
Which led to a great deal of trouble. She knew that. Oh yes. She’d seen her sister’s plight, had been keenly aware of Society’s reaction to it and of the shame her parents had suffered. But Huntley was right. There had to be more to life than that. There had to be happiness beyond all else.
Impulsively, she got out of bed and put on her robe. Sleep felt like ages away. It would never claim her. Not when she constantly tossed and turned, restless for tomorrow to come just so she could see him again and thank him for his kindness.
Sliding both feet into her slippers, she headed downstairs and out into the garden, careful to close the door firmly behind her. On a deep inhalation of breath, she captured the crisp night air, sucking it deep into her lungs before expelling it again with a misty puff. Feeling slightly chilly, she wrapped her arms around herself and gazed up at the shimmering stars.
Crickets called from somewhere close by—drrrr, drrr drrr—a musical sound as lovely to her ears as any orchestra. But there was something else too. She strained to listen. Silence passed for a number of seconds, and then it began again. Whistling. She could hear it distinctly now.
Stepping down from the terrace, Gabriella moved toward it, no more able to stay away than a moth might be of avoiding a flame. It was coming from Huntley’s garden, a bit louder now and with greater certainty, as though the whistler had finally settled on the right tune.
Intrigued, Gabriella continued walking, not stopping until she reached the gap in the hedge. There she paused, unsure about crossing the boundary without invitation. It was night, after all. She shouldn’t be out here. Except she couldn’t really help herself. More important, she no longer wanted to—not now that she’d acknowledged how awful the past year had been, pretending to be someone she wasn’t. She’d no desire to live the rest of her life like that.
So she stepped forward, her stomach buzzing with excitement, her curiosity eager to be sated. The whistling came from her left, drawing nearer until a figure emerged from the darkness; tall, broad and utterly perfect.
Huntley.
“There you are,” he whispered, as though he’d been expecting her. He stood before her now, so close she could lean against him if she wished. Shadows played across his face, obscuring his eyes and casting the bridge of his nose and his upper lip into stark relief.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I came outside. You were whistling.”
A low chuckle escaped him. It made the air around her rumble, made her feel as though he was touching her, even though he wasn’t. She shivered slightly in response.
“I sometimes do. It relaxes me.” He tilted his head, allowing a beam of moonlight to sweep across his face. “What kept you awake?”
She shifted, uncomfortable with the question. You did. She couldn’t possibly confess that much. So she said instead, “American Entomology. I couldn’t stop reading it.”
“Ah.” There was a sigh to his pronunciation. He nodded. “So you like it?”
“You knew I would. And yes, I do. Very much so.”
“Amelia said it would be inappropriate.” He stepped back a bit, back into darkness—away from the moonlight. “I chose to ignore her.”
