What Happens in Piccadilly - Chasity Bowlin Page 0,63

even in the dim light. “Not all the power. I am here, after all. Aren’t I? I danced attendance on your pretty little sister. I’ve been sociable, Burney, when I did not have to be. Why do you think I did that?”

“I don’t know, honestly.”

Averston grinned, his teeth gleaming in the darkness. “Well, it certainly wasn’t for your sister. If we slip out now, we could be at the coffee house in Lincoln Fields in just a matter of minutes.”

He was so tempted. Burney wanted that desperately. But he also knew that if he gave in, the power that Averston hinted that he had would be scarified. “I can’t. It’s impossible. We still have a house full of guests. And Amelia would be devastated if I were to simply disappear on such a night.”

“But haven’t you done that already?”

Burney laughed. “For a moment, yes. But not for the entire night. You really don’t understand family and all the associated obligations at all, do you?”

“Why in heaven’s name would I?” Averston demanded. “I’ve certainly never had one. It seems like a great deal of trouble, honestly.”

Burney said nothing for a moment, letting that and all its implied loneliness sink in. He hovered on the brink of ruin, living half his life in secret for fear of being jailed or worse because he had the audacity to love other men. And yet, in that moment, he was overwhelmed with pity for the wealthy, haughty man in front of him. “I can’t disappoint my sister… not even for you,” Burney said. “But if you wished to meet tomorrow night, I could certainly make myself available.”

“Don’t play games with me,” Averston said, his tone steely. It was obvious that he was unused to being told no or not getting what he wanted from people. “I won’t be toyed with by you or anyone else. I’m not that man, Charles Burney.”

“I rather thought that was what we were doing with one another… playing a game. You said yourself it can’t be anything more than that,” Burney replied. No matter his attraction to Averston, no matter how much he longed for the man to have some genuine affection, if not love, for him, he couldn’t simply give in to his every whim. “No complicated emotions or messy tender feelings. You can’t have it both ways. You said it yourself this afternoon. To get something, you have to give something.”

Averston rose from his perch. “Careful, Burney. I may decide the price you ask is far too steep for the pleasure you provide.”

“And I would argue that you will not see the worth of anything until it is out of your reach,” Burney replied.

“Don’t bother coming to the coffee house tomorrow. I won’t be there.”

With that, Averston walked out and Burney was once more alone in the darkness, left with the weight of the world and his family’s expectations pressing in on him, along with the fear that he’d overplayed his hand yet again.

Chapter Fourteen

I t was midmorning when the dour-faced butler showed him into the drawing room. Burney’s palms were sweating and his heart raced with trepidation. What he was about to do brought him no pleasure. He was burning a bridge and ending a family connection that had lasted generations. But he was desperate. A letter had arrived just that morning from Phillip. He was threatening, as always, to expose the truth of Burney’s bachelor status. It would ruin him. It would ruin Amelia. And if he couldn’t get investors for Phillip, the best he could do would be to offer up enough funds himself to stay his cousin’s hand.

Inside the elegantly appointed room, the curtains were drawn and the interior was very dim. She was seated on a velvet upholstered chair, holding court as if she were some despot on a throne. As he entered the room, her cold gaze settled on him. It reminded him of a snake—watchful and deadly.

“You’re certainly a bold one,” she said. “I’ll give you that. State your business.”

Burney stared at the disapproving face of the Dowager Duchess of Averston and wondered if perhaps he had not made a fundamental error in coming there. But he couldn’t tell Averston—Gerald—the truth of it. Even if Averston would agree to see him again after their quarrel the night before, what Burney had to say would destroy any chance of putting things right between them. It’s the only way. If the man discovered Burney had kept such information to himself, he’d be done