Bride for a Night

Christ, he would rather take a beating than imagine what was to come.

“Harry chose his fate when he agreed to your devil’s bargain,” he forced himself to mutter, his voice harsh.

“Fates can be altered.” Jacques nodded his head toward the faint outline of the distant yacht that was just becoming visible in the faint brush of dawn. “Return to England without me and no one need ever know that Harry is a traitor.”

“I would know.”

Jacques snorted. “I am aware you have always taken pride in being a pompous prig who considers himself superior to mere mortals, but I would have thought you have learned something from your wife.”

Gabriel flinched. Why? It was not the first occasion he’d been called a pompous prig. His preference for maintaining a dignified presence among society rather than prancing about like a silly fop did not endear him to his peers.

But the Frenchman’s well-played mention of Talia was a painful reminder that he had all too recently allowed his pride to rule in a decision he would regret for all eternity.

“What does my marriage have to do with Harry?” he demanded before he could put back the question.

“You nearly destroyed a fine woman with your desire to punish her.”

Gabriel’s brows snapped together. He needed no reminders of the damage he had caused his young bride.

“It was never my desire to punish Talia.”

“Non?” Jacques shifted his gaze back to Gabriel, his expression knowing. “You blamed her for having brought shame to the precious Ashcombe family, did you not? And you were anxious to prove to Silas Dobson and society you would not tolerate being embarrassed.” He gave a disgusted shake of his head. “Talia would have been crushed by your need for revenge if not for her considerable courage.”

He growled beneath his breath, once again fighting the urge to pummel the aggravating bastard.

“You know nothing of the matter.”

“I know you are threatening to toss your brother to the wolves to salvage your pride, just as you did with Talia.”

He knew Jacques was attempting to manipulate him, but the accusation sliced through Gabriel with silky ease.

“Talia was an innocent,” Gabriel muttered, as much to remind himself as his companion. “Harry betrayed his country for profit. If I truly desired to protect myself, I would hide his sins rather than expose them to the world.”

“What of your pride? The Earl of Ascombe stripped of his pride has nothing,” Jacques taunted, lifting his hand as Gabriel’s lips parted to offer a scathing retort. “Oh, the polite world will pretend to be aghast over Harry’s treachery, but then they will all realize they predicted that he would come to a bad end. Then, of course, they will rush to sympathize with the poor Earl of Ashcombe who has been forced to endure the terrible antics of his younger brother for so many years and who has now so bravely stepped forward to renounce the boy as a spy.” He paused, watching Gabriel like a viper assessing its prey. An accurate description for a man who spewed his words like poison. “You shall be nothing less than a national hero.”

Gabriel tightened his fingers on the pistol, wishing to God he had never heard the name Jacques Gerard.

“You would say anything to avoid the hangman.”

Jacques shrugged. “Certainly, but that does not make my words any less true.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

JACQUES HAD DEVOTED his years in England to becoming the polished gentleman that his mother had always wanted him to be, even as he had secretly prepared for his return to France as a skilled soldier.

Oh, not as a traditional warrior who could wave around a pointy sword or shoot a man at twenty paces. There were always fools who could be taught to march in line and use a weapon without killing himself. But instead he had honed his talent in manipulating people, discovering that those about him could be used like pawns upon a chessboard with the proper incentives. It was only a matter of finding each individual weakness and exploiting it.

The world might condemn his sly scheming as beneath a true gentleman, but he had been indifferent to the censure. It was a supposedly honorable gentleman who had attempted to rape his mother and sent his father to his death.

And there was no arguing with the success of his efforts. By the time he had arrived in Paris he had mastered his talent in coercion, with a dozen high-ranking Englishmen dangling on his strings to show for it.

Including Mr. Harry Richardson.

Much to his annoyance, however, he found the Earl of Ashcombe was impervious to his attempts at manipulation. The arrogant bastard was too stubborn to be so easily led.

Not that he intended to concede defeat. He shifted his attention to the loaded pistol trained at his chest. Gabriel’s glare silently dared him to attempt an escape so he could have reason to shoot.

For all of Gabriel’s conceit, he was not nearly so certain of his decision to expose Harry as a traitor as he desired Jacques to believe. With the proper prodding, even this pigheaded man could be convinced to change his mind.