“I have already confessed to your aunt Dora and your brother … and had Ben not interrupted us earlier, I would have confessed it all to you. Do you not remember that I tried to tell you something? Jewels … wait …”
She had already started to run towards the back door and the protection of the storeowner’s company. She knew that Ryker wouldn’t follow her and make a scene. She had to get away from him and think …
*
Omsbury wasn’t sitting on his laurels. When Jenkins did not return, he settled it in his mind that he had been taken in this instance by a thief and an incompetent. It irritated him and made him swear to himself to see to it when he was done with the business to find the blackguard and deal with him. However, there was no point dwelling on the matter now; he had to act quickly and decisively.
What he needed was a couple of stout individuals who would be only too happy to earn a bit of blunt and not ask any questions—and this time, he wouldn’t give them a sou until they had done some damage to the Henshaw stallion. That would make it impossible for the horse to race, and it would deliver Jewelene into his hands.
Omsbury was prepared. He had a marriage license in his possession, he had a minister willing for a hefty sum to ignore a reluctant bride’s protests, and he had the drugs to keep her sedated during the process!
As it happened, he was across the busy avenue when he saw Jewelene leaving the supply store. She appeared to be in a bit of a hurry, but he didn’t have time to chase after her at that moment. What he needed to do was visit the Black Bull again and seal the deal with the fellows he had interviewed the previous evening. Everything was finally falling into place.
Damn, but he could almost taste her, and what she wouldn’t give freely, he would take, and take, and take!
*
Jewelene felt as though her heart was bursting from within. The only thing that kept her together was her anger. How dare he! Why had he done such a thing? And, she told herself, the answer to that question didn’t really matter. He had played them for fools—little country bumpkins …
He had stayed in their home, eaten meals with them, advised them regarding Lightning, pretended to care … made love to her—all under a false name. He had even asked her to marry him—he couldn’t have meant it! What had it all been? A game, a wager? Had that been a tease?
What deep, horrible game did he play?
The thought came back that London beaux liked to bet on how quickly they could get a woman to fall in love with them. A wager? Had he entered into a wager—and with whom, Robby? She had heard her brother and his friends jest about certain friends of theirs that would bet they could kiss this girl or that within a given time period. Was that what he had done? It didn’t make sense, because he had asked her to marry him. If she had said, yes, how would he have gotten out of it? And why would he ask her to marry him? He had already bedded her. This was upside down and made no sense.
She drove up the back courtyard and parked the cob and wagon outside the kitchen entrance, went inside, and told Cook to have one of the lads bring in the supplies. She could hardly speak. Her voice cracked on the words as she tried to hold back the tears, and then she was flying up the stairs to her room.
However, the sound of a sob from Elizabeth’s room caught her attention. She went there and, without bothering to knock, cracked the door open and saw her cousin lying in a fetal poison on her bed sobbing away.
She went to her and exclaimed worriedly, “Lizzie … Lizzie, what is it?”
“B … Be … Ben …” Lizzie responded.
“Sit up, do, and talk to me. What do you mean, Ben? Ben is fine—I just saw him in town. What do you think has occurred?”
“Omsbury told me all about it.” She sniffed. “And Arthur and Jimmy say ’tis true—Ben is taken with a French faro dealer … Babette!”
Jewels snorted; had she not been so despondent herself, she would have actually laughed. She touched her cousin’s shoulder and said, “There, go and clean up, you foolish chit. Ben has never betrayed you.”
“You don’t know that …”
“I know that very well, Lizzie, for I am Babette!” There—it was out, and it was as though she had stepped out of a burning house and into the fresh air..
“What … what are you saying?” A dam held back the tears, and Elizabeth sniffed as she studied Jewel’s face.
Words burst from Jewelene in quick succession then, which at first left her cousin looking dazed, but she took a breath and started to repeat the important parts slowly and finally sighed. “So you see … one can never believe what one is told … for the devil is in the details, and I am not sure what that means, but it seems to fit here … don’t you think?”
“But, Jewels … does no one know?”
“Only Ben …”
“And did you make enough money to meet the note Omsbury holds over Ben?”
“Yes, well … no, but Ben has been able to make up the difference … and now, now we have our own debts to pay, hopefully when Lightning wins.”
“And what of Ryker?”
“Oh, you mean, the Marquis of Lyndhurst?” Jewels made a face.