Lord to Love Again: A Sweet and Clean Regency Romance

by Grace Sellers

  The man wiped his nose but still looked unfriendly.

  “Who sent yeh?”

  Wolfolk smiled in an attempt to look unthreatening, like a nobleman with more money than sense was burning a hole in his pocket. He’d anticipated that he’d need a name to get into an illegal game and had one at the ready.

  “Abernathy,” Wolfolk said.

  The man pulled out a pocket watch.

  “Come back in an hour,” he said.

  Wolfolk prickled at being put off but schooled his face not to show it.

  “Very well.”

  Wolfolk, having little else to do, walked across the street to a small, empty pub and was given a glass of ale. It wasn’t a gentleman’s drink, but it was something.

  His first draught tasted good. Malty and sweet.

  The second one went down even easier.

  Somewhere between his third and fourth, a pleasant lightness lodged in his chest. After an hour, he went back to the Hawk and was told to follow the gaunt man through the twisty bowels of the inn to the back, where six men sat around a makeshift gaming table.

  None of the men were Sutherland, much to Wolfolk’s disappointment. But he sat down and smiled like what he hoped was a reprobate gambler itching to play. He should know, he’d been acquainted with enough of them.

  “Up for a bit of sport?” a fat man to his right asked him.

  Wolfolk nodded and held out his hand to introduce himself.

  “Harington,” the man said. The others looked at him as the fat man pulled out a cup containing two dice.

  “We play hazard. Guests roll first.”

  As Wolfolk rolled, a woman came in from the back, carrying out a tray of cold meats and bread and stopped to stoke the fire.

  Another man produced a bottle of middling brandy and poured a generous amount for each of the men.

  Two and a half hours later, Wolfolk was deep in his cups.

  He’d lost some fifty pounds, won back ten, drank a great deal of brandy, and had been forced to sing his college alma mater in a falsetto voice as the final humiliating part of a losing bet.

  The men allowed him to play, happily taking his money, and he didn’t have to work hard to pass as a soused aristocrat there for gambling and drink.

  But he heard and saw nothing of Sutherland and Wolfolk began to doubt his theory that Sutherland sought sport in the degenerate town. Maybe Wolfolk was wrong about him. Perhaps he and Nelly had gone to Scotland as quickly as possible in a love match. With each drink, his resolve to leave the gaming increased.

  “What brings you to our modest hamlet, my lord?” one of the men asked.

  “I was staying at Howsham and was told I could find honest gaming here.”

  “Gaming? Yeh. I’m not sure how honest,” one man said, and the others laughed.

  Harington met the other’s eyes. “A guest of Stanwyck’s, eh? Pretty place on a summer’s day.”

  Wolfolk nodded. “Tis, but truth be told, I prefer your fine company here. Do you get many other players?

  Harington shrugged. “Now and then. Occasional men passing through town like yourself.”

  With the shake of the dice, Wolfolk lost another five pounds.

  And he was drunk.

  He needed to leave the gathering before he lost all his money. His tongue felt thick in his mouth, and he was sure he was slurring.

  “I’m going to step outside and smoke a cigar,” he said to the men at the table.

  “Go ahead and smoke, it won’t make you any more sober,” one said, causing the others to laugh.

  “Nor any poorer,” he replied as he stood and was surprised his balance was askew. The floor seemed to rise up to meet his legs at different angles. Bloody liquor.

  Wolfolk pushed himself away from the table unsteadily.

  He needed fresh air more than he realized. He made it out of the room and through the first door he found leading outside. It was the alley to the side of the inn, darker and shoddier than the inn itself if that was possible.

  A small torch barely lit the alleyway and reflected damp cobblestones on the street. Wet with what he didn’t want to know. It looked like the perfect place for a murder. If there was a place for a gentleman to disappear off the earth and not be heard from again, it was here. Fog even curled in the corners of the street.

  In the distance, he heard horses and a coach. The light reflecting off the cobblestones blurred in the mist, so he couldn’t tell exactly how far away it was.

  As he walked several steps, he realized just how much he’d had to drink. His legs felt rubbery, and he was deeply tired, almost as though he could lie right down the street and sleep.

  A coach passed by in front of the inn, and he recognized Ruffalo’s crest on it. Could it be Caroline and Mrs. Ruffalo arriving so late? He ran to catch it as it pulled up in front of The Swan.

  The footman helped Caroline down just as he arrived.

  “Miss Holland!”

  She turned to him, looking surprised. “My lord…”

  Caroline stopped and peered at him.

  He listed to one side and readjusted his footing.

  She could tell he was drunk. He laughed to himself.

  “Oh, yes, I’ve been playing hazard and drinking. I’ve found a gaming table Sutherland will likely attend. Unfortunately, I haven’t yet seen him. Also, I’ve lost forty-five pounds.”

  Caroline touched her small gloved hand to her mouth. Her familiar lemony scent wafted to him.

  He glanced down at himself.

  Oh, God. He looked a mess.

  His cravat was untied, and he’d left his jacket at the gaming table. Also, his white shirt was sprinkled with droplets of brandy.

  “That happened when I was singing,” he said.

  Her eyes widened.

  This was funny. So funny. He realized how disheveled and inebriated he must appear to her now. Like a common hoodlum. He shook his head and tried to explain his condition. “No, no. You see, to find Sutherland. I had to drink so I could play.”

  She was pretty, particularly when she looked concerned, as she did now.

  Her plump lips were like two pink rosebuds.

  He stopped talking and sighed. His tongue wasn’t working right.

  “Perhaps we should talk in the morning,” Caroline said.

  No, no, no. “I’m not that drunk, you see. A little,…”

  His eyes focused on her lips again, and he forgot what he wanted to say. Only a night ago, she wanted to kiss him. Suddenly, with her standing before him, he couldn’t get that thought out of his mind.

  Mrs. Ruffalo emerged from the other side of the cab, also frowning. She shook her head as she passed.

  “Pull yourself together, man.”

  He’d managed to make two women frown at him in one night.

  He was making a ninny-wit of himself. He needed to tell Caroline that he wasn’t such a fool. That he would kiss her again if he could. That he fancied her.

  “Caroline,” he called, to stop her from entering the inn behind Mrs. Ruffalo.

  Caroline turned when she heard her name.

  Standing near the carriage, Wolfolk tried to steady himself, but leaned too far in the other direction and had to step back in a ridiculous little dance.

  Good God, he was muddled as a wheelbarrow.

  Caroline’s entire body ached from the interminable carriage ride, and now, when they finally arrived in Darwin, it was obvious Wolfolk was inexorability grogged. And, worse yet, had not seen Sutherland.

  Bloody men.

  She walked to him. Then his fumes hit her. She had to turn her head and cough into her gloved hand.

  He smelled like a tavern.

  No, worse.

  Like the floorboards of a tavern where ale had been spilled for decades.

  For a moment, she’d been so happy to see him as he trotted up to their carriage on the dark, unfamiliar street. She spent all day wondering how he might react to her own forward behavior the night before. She rea
lized that it didn’t matter now. He cared so little, he probably hadn’t noticed.

  She shouldn’t care.

  But she did.

  His eyes were unfocused from drink.

  “I wanted to say…”

  Caroline waited.

  “Yes?”

  He paused, started to say something and stopped. Swayed a bit.

  “Fancy…”

  “Fancy what?” she asked, impatient.

  “Fancy. You,” he said.

  She paused. What was he saying? That he fancied her? Or was he calling her fancy? His eyes were very green.

  She blinked several times. He was complimenting her, even if she wasn’t sure what he meant. Even if he was too drunk to remember. She smiled slightly.

  Then movement down the street caught her gaze, and she followed it.

  There he was. Sutherland.

  Tall and in fine new clothes, of course. Like a bloody peacock.

  She grabbed Wolfolk’s arm and squeezed it tightly.

  “Blimey. Ow!”

  “Sutherland!” she whispered and nodded behind her.

  He looked a ways behind her to see Sutherland crossing the street, his back to them, heading toward the Hawk Inn.

  “Sir Golden Hair. Going to the gaming table, I see.”

  Anger flared in her. They didn’t have time for his petty insults.

  Caroline rushed to a nearby footman and opened the trunk he carried.

  “Tell Mrs. Ruffalo that I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she told him, pulling a cloak from the trunk and fashioning it around on her shoulders.

  Wolfolk blinked at her.

  “What the devil?”

  “Come on,” Caroline grasped his arm and pulled him in the direction Sutherland had disappeared.

  “I need to find Nelly, and I can’t go alone.”

  She tugged his sleeve until he followed.

  She was tired of men who talked but did nothing.

  Drunken, gaming men be damned.

  She needed to find Nelly. She had to give her the one thing Caroline had never been had: a choice.

  She pushed past Wolfolk and into the damp street.

  In a few hurried minutes she was outside the Hawk.

  She knew Wolfolk was near her, and heard his boots tap behind her.

  Hopefully, it wasn’t too late. Maybe only they knew that Nelly had spent a night with Sutherland. Her reputation could survive if no one else found out.

  Caroline saw the thin man at the desk frown at her disapprovingly. She boldly stared back at him until his eye twitched. Wolfolk’s voice came from behind her.

  “I was here gaming earlier. Perhaps you remember me? I’d like to collect my coat and belongings, and say farewell to the players.” Wolfolk smiled politely. The thin man just looked at them both.

  Caroline paused for a moment, then two. She drummed her fingers on the table.

  Wolfolk hoisted a small bag of coins—a not insignificant amount—on the table. “For your trouble.”

  Caroline was shocked at the amount.

  The thin man stepped forward and opened the door to the twisty halls leading to the gaming room. Wolfolk walked down the dark, narrow corridor. Caroline let him push past her and followed.

  “Where did you get that money?” she asked him.

  He shrugged. “I assumed we would need some coin.”

  Caroline glanced at him in the flickering candlelight of the hall. He smiled crookedly, and she felt a wave of gratitude.

  15

  Low light shone from the fireplace across the gaming room.

  She heard men’s voices.

  Sir Golden Hair, as Wolfolk called him, leaned back lazily in his chair, about to throw the hazard dice—enough coin in front of him to pay for a month’s suitable lodgings—his shirt now open to his neck, hair falling over his forehead. Here, his face looked older, less refined than when she saw him at Howsham, as though he had been wearing a polite mask that slipped off. She inhaled and forced herself to appear unafraid.

  “Where is Miss Featherton?”

  The men at the table turned and grumbled with surprise at them.

  “What’s the meaning of this?”

  Sutherland’s mouth fell open.

  The room was silent except for the crackle of a fire in the hearth.

  Caroline stood taller.

  “I would ask again, but I am tired from the journey, and I don’t wish to be delayed any longer, gentlemen,” she said. “Where may I find my seventeen-year-old cousin?”

  The other man eyed Sutherland, who smiled uneasily.

  “She is perfectly safe,” Sutherland said, his voice faltering on the last words.

  Fury rose in Caroline, and she was weary at having to ask men for everything. “Which room? I wish to see from myself that she is unharmed for myself.”

  Sutherland held up his hand as though telling her to stop.

  “It’s past midnight. She’s undoubtedly fast asleep. Why don’t we all meet for breakfast tomorrow morning?” Sutherland's eyes darted to Wolfolk as though he could appeal to him.

  “I want to see her now,” Caroline said.

  Sutherland didn’t move. His insolence ground into Caroline. If she were a man, he would not ignore her like this. But then if she were a man, she would likely strike him.

  Wolfolk stepped forward and pulled Sutherland up to his feet by his collar.

  “Really, man? Do we need theatrics?” Sutherland said, shaking him off. Caroline thought for a moment they would come to blows and stepped between them.

  “You disappeared with my charge from a chaperoned party. Once I know she’s safe and not held against her will, I’ll be satisfied.”

  Sutherland grimaced and scratched his forehead. Caroline’s mention of the girl’s safety seemed to disturb the men, who talked amongst themselves.

  “Sutherland, take her to your girl,” the fat man at the table said. “If it’s as you say, there’s no issue.”

  Sutherland straightened his shirt indignantly and cursed under his breath.

  “He just wants to try to win her back,” Sutherland said, gesturing to Wolfolk.

  Wolfolk smiled faintly, almost sadly, and shook his head.

  “No, I want the girl safe.” His eyes were nearly black in the dim light.

  He did care about Nelly.

  Of course, he did. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.

  Sutherland crumpled back down into his chair, deflated. “Room six. In the front.”

  The door to room six was filthy, and Caroline silently cursed Sutherland for bringing Nelly to such a place. She deserved better.

  She knocked on the door. After a moment, she leaned to the door to listen.

  “Nelly? Are you there?”

  No answer.

  She wondered if they had the wrong room. She almost hoped they did, but she guessed the other rooms were no better.

  “Nelly?” She called again. She knocked harder. “Nelly, it’s Caroline.”

  She listened again. Wolfolk gestured for her attention.

  “Should I break the door down?” he said to her in his not-quiet drunk whisper.

  “No. Let’s see if she’s there first.” Caroline waved him away. “The last thing we need is to pay for broken property.”

  After another moment, they heard a sound behind the door.

  “Nelly? Are you there?”

  “Yes, but I’m not supposed to answer the door for anyone except Samuel.”

  Caroline was thrilled to hear Nelly’s voice but less happy that she was using Sutherland’s Christian name.

  “Nelly, please open the door. You know me.”

  The lock squeaked and the door opened enough to see a sliver of Nelly’s face.

  The room was dark. It smelled sour too, like unwashed bodies. Caroline waited for her eyes to adjust.

  “Nelly, I want to make sure you’re well.”

  Finally, the door opened more and Caroline entered. Wolfolk was behind her with the
flickering candle he had taken from the hall.

  The dark room was nearly empty. The only furniture was a thin mattress stuffed with straw on the floor and a bare table. She wondered again how Nelly had deigned to sleep here.

  “Nelly?” Caroline stood next to her.

  “Are you unwell?”

  Caroline felt Nelly’s forehead. Her curls were damp.

  “Do you have a fever?”

  “I am well,” Nelly said but her eyes filled with tears.

  “Oh, Nelly,” Caroline took her hand. "Please return with us to Howsham, before anyone else finds out about this.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “But Samu—Mr. Sutherland. We’re to marry.”

  Wolfolk crouched down next to Caroline.

  “He is a blackguard, and I will call him out,” he said too loudly for the small room.

  “Shhhh,” Caroline quieted him. “There will be no talks of duels right now.”

  Nelly sobbed sloppy tears that shook her small body. “But I-I love him.”

  Caroline touched her back sympathetically.

  “There, there.”

  Wolfolk piped up, “You aren’t the first girl to fall a do-nothing ninny hammer.”

  “Wolfolk, quiet. Please.” Caroline gave him a stern look.

  “I’ll carry her back to the Swan.”

  Caroline paused. He had been drinking after all, but he lifted her effortlessly and held her steady. Nelly settled into his arms and closed her eyes.

  Caroline pulled off her cape and covered Nelly with it.

  They had Nelly. Now they just had to get back to Howsham.

  Wolfolk shifted his weight from one foot to the other and readjusted the girl in his arms. She looked small, but he guessed she was heavier than she looked. Why had he offered to carry her? She could walk. His arms ached, but he knew better than to complain about carrying a damsel when one was rescuing her. Although, frankly, Caroline had done the rescuing.

  Tears continued to roll down Nelly’s face and onto his shoulder, soaking through his cravat until his neck and shoulder were annoyingly damp.

  And still, she kept crying.

  She seemed to have an endless amount of tears.

  Back in their room, Caroline gently shook Mrs. Ruffalo awake.

  “We have Nelly. She is not well. Wolfolk is bringing her in,” Caroline whispered to her.