Lady Guinevere and the Rogue with a Brogue - Julie Johnstone Page 0,105

“That wager was the last I made with your brother until you returned to Town recently, and he offered me yet another deal. If I would pursue your duchess—before she was your duchess, of course—and make it seem I was seducing her and she was a willing participant, Talbot would return all my lands and destroy the note he held on them. I was not to consummate anything, thank God. It was for show.”

“I am going to kill him,” Asher said, starting to rise, but Kilgore gripped him by the forearm.

“You need to hear the rest.”

Asher sat, but all he could think about was Guinevere. He looked at Kilgore. “Did Guinevere… Was she…amenable to yer seduction attempts?”

“No. Your wife’s affections have been reserved for you since the day you met her, you fool. Despite the fact that you humiliated her five years ago and left her here alone as the subject of much gossip.”

He winced. He was a damn fool. He’d been callous when last he’d seen her and broke off their plans. He was a louse for ever doubting her.

“So,” Asher said, wanting to return home to Guinevere, but also knowing he needed all the details when he confronted Pierce who—“Beckford,” he said, focusing on his friend, “my brother was in the pleasure room. Fetch him, please.”

Beckford slanted a wolfish smile. “Gladly.”

As he rose and left the room, Asher locked gazes with Kilgore. “Why are ye telling me this now? Ye have yer land, aye?”

“No. Your damn brother has refused to tear up the paper and return my lands. I have a few small tracts, but it’s not worth it to me anymore. I cannot live with myself. The more I got to know your wife, the worse I felt. She is so good.”

“Aye,” Asher said, his chest tightening. “She is. Too good for me.”

“Agreed,” Kilgore said. “One last thing you should know… Your brother sent me to Scotland last week to ensure there was trouble at one of your distilleries that would bring you back to Scotland. Thinking upon it now, I believe he wanted to keep you from your wedding. He threatened to tell Constantine all I had done, so I went.”

The fire.

“Damn ye, Kilgore,” Asher said, glaring at the man.

“I’m sure I am damned,” Kilgore said solemnly. “Needless to say, I do not think your brother has given up on his pursuit of your wife or of simply making you miserable. I thought you should know.”

“What will ye do now?”

Kilgore shrugged. “Unless Talbot willingly returns the land, I have no recourse, and the bits and pieces he’s given me will take a very long time to turn a real profit. I will keep working, though.”

“I’ll see what I can do to help with that,” Asher said, thinking more of Lady Constantine’s happiness than anything. “Ye should go to Lady Constantine and confess everything, though, because when Pierce finds out ye told me, he will do it himself.”

Kilgore smiled blandly. “I did that after I ran into Guinevere in the park today. I realized then I was disintegrating into a wickedness even I could never climb out of if I did not try to change things. I confessed all, and she threw me out after telling me she never wanted to speak to me again.”

“Surely, ye’ll return to attempt to change her mind?”

Kilgore shook his head. “I won’t.”

“Ye confessed to her so she would hate ye,” Asher said, fully understanding.

“Yes. She’s far too good for me and does not deserve to be tied to a penniless reprobate. Now, she can get on with her life.”

Asher was just about to tell Kilgore to not do anything drastic, but the door swung open and Beckford strode in. “Your brother is gone, and my man at the door tells me he departed directly after the fight started between you and that one.” Beckford tilted his head toward Kilgore.

“Damn.” Asher rose and shoved his chair back. He had a bad feeling about what Pierce might do next.

“I’m coming with you,” Beckford said.

“Nay,” Asher said. What he wanted to say to Guinevere was private, and he could handle Pierce. “If I need ye, I’ll send word.”

When he exited the club, he stopped in shock. It was daylight. He had not realized how long he’d been at the club.

Good God, what must Guinevere think?

Chapter Twenty-One

The next morning, Guinevere awoke more distraught than when she’d gone to sleep, if that was possible. She sat up in the guest chamber bed staring out the window