Bride for a Night

“My relationship with Jacques all began so innocently,” Harry said, his voice thick with self-disgust.

“Somehow I do not associate Jacques with innocence.”

“True, but it seemed so at the time. Jacques and I were schoolmates.”

“So he said,” Gabriel confessed, condemning to hell whatever ill fate had crossed Harry’s path with the damned Frenchman. “I cannot imagine the two of you having had much in common.”

Harry snorted, his hand lifting to impatiently brush back the brown curls that had tumbled onto his forehead.

“No, he was far too somber and studious for my taste, and of course, he did little to disguise his revolutionary tendencies.” Harry’s expression was distant as he became lost in his memories. “But he came upon me one evening while I was in the midst of a nasty disagreement with several upperclassmen. They were under the impression I owed them a great deal of money.” He gave a short, humorless laugh. “No doubt because I did.”

Gabriel was not surprised that his brother had started his career of living in dun territory at such a tender age. Or that he had incurred the wrath of his fellow students with his blithe disregard in accepting responsibility.

“What did he do?”

“He not only paid my debt, but he carried me back to my rooms and tended to my numerous bruises.” Harry’s lips twisted. “I thought he must be my guardian angel.”

“A clever means to earn your loyalty.”

“Jacques was never stupid.”

Gabriel had to agree. The Frenchman was cunning and ruthless, with the instincts of Machiavelli.

“What did he demand in return?”

“Nothing until I was preparing to leave school and take my place in society. Then he requested that I carry a packet of letters to London.”

“What letters?”

“I do not know,” Harry admitted in a dismissive voice. “And I doubt they were of any importance.”

Gabriel frowned at his flippant tone. Had his brother learned nothing? Jacques clearly had a well-practiced routine of using dupes to transport vital information.

“How can you be certain?”

“Because his true purpose was to ensure that I was introduced to Juliette,” Harry said bitterly.

It took a moment for Gabriel to realize that his brother was referring to the voluptuous French widow of an English diplomat. Gabriel had been dimly aware that the golden-haired beauty had drifted in and out of his brother’s bed over the years, but he had always assumed it had been nothing more than a casual affair.

At least until he had discovered that the woman had traveled with Harry to France.

“Madame Martine,” he spat in disgust.

“I was such an idiot.” Harry closed his eyes, visibly pained by his memories. “Jacques was well aware that I was ripe to be seduced by such a beautiful woman who could easily manipulate me.”

“Not an uncommon failing among young men.”

Harry snorted. “Not you.”

“Do not be so certain,” Gabriel argued. “My first mistress managed to coax me into buying her several pieces of fine jewelry as well as a new carriage and matching horses to pull it before I realized she was sharing her favors with several other gentlemen at the same time.”

“Juliette cost me more than my yearly allowance.” Harry lifted his lashes to reveal the torment in his eyes. “It was with her urging that I became such a reckless fool. I was desperate to impress her with my daring deeds and my boundless wealth.” His jaw tightened. “And of course, she was clever enough to be forever prodding my jealousy toward you. I would have done anything to prove I was as worthy as you in her eyes.”

Gabriel heaved a rough sigh, shoving aside his stab of guilt as he considered the implications of his brother’s confession.

“Including an offer to establish Jacques as the local vicar of Carrick Park?” he asked.

“Yes.” Harry shook his head, then bit off a curse as the movement jostled his wound. “A difficult task, I might add,” he seethed.