by Aria Norton
He could just about see the young man hold out his hand, but when he reached for it, he missed.
“Whoops!”
Tongue out, George squinted as he stretched out his hand again, this time grasping the firm one of the merchant before he knew no more.
Chapter 5
I should have declined his offer, but I didn’t want to appear ungracious. At least the wine was good. It should be – I brought it in my latest shipment! Carlos sipped the same wine, preferring to remain in the shadows of Black Suit. The club was full of men either gambling or drinking, or both. A few sat puffing away, blowing smoke rings into the air. It was these that he was keeping his distance from as cigar smoke didn’t sit well with him. He was only here at Richard’s behest, but he would rather be in his own townhouse going over the information he had managed to find out about his father.
Over two weeks had passed since his mother told him about the count currently residing in London. He hadn’t left the countryside right away, or she would have been disappointed in his brief visit. He was loathe to do anything that would cause her any distress, so he had stayed until she had told him to go when she noticed how impatient he was.
She wouldn’t be too impressed to know that I’m in such a place as this. Lydia was a devoted Catholic and was firmly against anything that would cause sin to rise up. As far as she was concerned, clubs were the Devil’s playground, and anyone who gambled had to have a spirit of lust and greed. She would rain hell down on him and any other person foolish enough to mention any revellings in a gentleman’s club in her presence. Is it any wonder why I am neither a gambler nor a man given to much wine?
Looking around the club, he wondered where Richard was. He had been here long enough; it was time to go home. Carlos had a long day of travel ahead and wanted to get as much sleep as possible. One of the men at the card table gave a controlled yell of satisfaction, laying his cards down for everyone to see. The others groaned, shaking their heads.
“That’s it for me, Phinny,” the one declared, throwing his cards on the table. “I have nothing else to give.”
“Ha!” laughed the one he supposed was Phinny. “What you mean to say is that your wife will likely kick you out of your chamber if you lose any more money to me.”
“Have you met my wife?” the first one declared. “She is sweet and mellow, but let me do anything wrong, and she becomes a dragon. I am not ashamed to admit that I would rather remain in my wife’s good graces.”
The man stood up, adjusting his breeches before heading to the drinks area. Phinny chuckled, gathering his winnings.
“So, who will play the next round?”
They would be stupid to agree to play again. Have they not lost enough already? It was amusing to watch these men toy with their wealth in such a way. He likely had more than many of the men in this room, but no one would find him wasting it on a game of cards. His mother had taught him the value of money because she had grown up poor, warning him against activities that would make him a poor man faster than he could make money.
“It’s all foolishness,” he muttered. “At least play for a pound or two, not several hundred!”
It seemed the higher the stakes, the more people were inclined to want to play. There could only be one winner, which made for a lot of losers. Shaking his head, he decided to get a breath of fresh air. The Black Suit had a large balcony that gave a good view of central London. Perhaps I shall be lucky and see my father walking by. That was not likely by a long shot, but one could live in hope.
As he had expected, his father moved in high circles, making it near impossible to get anywhere near him. Coming to Black Suit had not just been about pleasing a friend, but hoping that the count would be here as well. It was a prestigious men’s club, so it would not be wrong to assume he might come here, and Richard had even told him that the count had come to the club twice in the last month.
“I picked the wrong night.”
It was probably for the best. What would he say if he saw his father? Good evening, Father. I am your long-lost son. No, that would not go down well. I cannot simply just walk up to him! His father might think him insane, or perhaps a threat. Carlos needed a plan, but what?
Outside, the night air was cool and crisp, reminding him of his time on the sea sans the salty air. Whenever he spent a great deal of time on his ship, he would miss land. But when he returned home and spent just a day or two, he longed for the sea. It was a form of escape, a ‘no man’s land’ where you could simply be.
That was not to say that he did not enjoy being around his mother, but she too had her expectations of him. She wanted him to reclaim his birthright, get married, settle down, and finally leave his merchant life. There was no particular order to the events, but lately, she had been pushing him about marriage. Carlos wasn’t too keen on it, but he understood it was his duty.
“If I marry before I can prove my identity, then I can only marry a commoner. Which nobleman will allow his daughter to marry a merchant? And since I have no way of proving that I am also a nobleman, I have no sway.”
If he married a common woman and later proved his identity, how would his family receive her? From what Lydia had told him about the Ortez family, they only accepted their own kind. Would his wife then be ostracised? It was a lot to think about.
“That is if I ever have the opportunity to get anywhere near my father. Between the laws of class and Alba, there does not seem to be much hope.”
He couldn’t give up, though, not yet. If not for him, then he at least needed to avenge his mother’s murder. Alba was living a life that was not her own, having stolen it from another woman. Perhaps that was why she could only give his father daughters. Five daughters was not a matter to be taken lightly. From the information he had gleaned through various sources, Alba still wanted a son.
“She is forty-seven; I doubt that another child is possible for her. The title will fall to the next male kin.”
That was if he didn’t manage to reveal her treachery and take the title himself. Lydia had told him that the count had loved his first wife with such purity and passion that there was nothing he would not have done for her. Why did he marry Alba mere months after losing his wife? Rumours speculated that Alba had had relations with him while in a drunken stupor, impregnating her. Carlos didn’t doubt them, not when he already knew the lengths she was willing to go to get what she wanted.
“Unfortunately for her, having daughters is her lot in life.”
It was a sort of justice for his own mother since she had been the only one capable of giving his father a son. Had she not died, Carlos’ life would have been much different. He wouldn’t have spent the greater part of his childhood in hiding or steered clear of the country that called to him. Spain was his home, and yet he could not step foot on it lest his presence somehow be made known to Alba. Sometimes, he thought it safe to return since he was grown up, and she would not recognise him, but Lydia would have none of it. Spain was Alba’s territory; he was better off keeping away.
Pushing away from the balustrade, he decided to look for Richard and take his leave. It was pointless staying in a place he was not interested in. His wine was still half-drunk, so he downed that in two gulps, dabbing the corners of his mouth with his hand.
“Good wine.”
The minute he walked inside, he sensed that the atmosphere had changed to accommodate a man who seemed to be having a difficult time holding his drink. He had noticed him in the beginning, but the man had kept to himself and simply watched the other gamblers as he had. I feel that I know him, but I cannot quite put my finger on it. His thoughts of finding Richard and leaving were a thing of the past, not when the sorrowful man was an interesting sight to watch. Besides, Richard was with the man, likely trying to comfort him.
“I would take that drink away from him if I were him.”
Brandy was not something you drank too much of, but a drink to be savoured. Carlos had several bottles in his study, as
well as whisky smuggled in from Scotland.
What was the man saying anyway? He was blubbering something about his daughter, but unless he got closer to the man, Carlos would hear nothing.
“I don’t want to join their conversation; neither do I want them to see me just yet.”
The drunken man looked incapable of seeing anything past his nose, but Lord Spalding and Richard would. I want to hear what he has to say about his daughter. Why was he so interested anyway? What did he have to do with the daughters of aristocrats? I don’t know, but I am intrigued.
He drew as close as he could, pulling up a chair in the more dimly lit area of the room.
“She’s stubborn, she is,” he heard the man say.
Stubborn? Carlos didn’t know a woman alive who wasn’t stubborn to some degree. Up close, he could see the man better, soon recognising him to be George Stafford, the Baron of Leeds. Ha! Would you look at that? The Baron doesn’t know how to control his own daughter. Carlos didn’t mean to brag, but there wasn’t a woman alive that he couldn’t tame. His shipmen had given him the name “The Woman Whisperer” because of his prowess in charming any woman, even the nastiest, uptight, and dragon-like types. He recalled a princess in the far east who had hated men and almost ended the agreement between him and her father. It had taken many walks in the garden, gifts, and poetic words to soften her heart, but the effort had been worth it. Unfortunately, the princess had fallen in love with him and would have meant certain death for him if the father found out, so he had managed to convince her that he wasn’t the man for her.
“That had been a terrifying moment. My head would have been certainly severed from my body if the father knew I had been wooing his daughter.”
Boundaries of a physical nature had not been crossed, but the amount of alone time he had spent with her under cover of darkness would have been enough to earn his death.
“A baron’s daughter would undoubtedly be easier to deal with than a princess with a sword-happy father.”
The little he knew about the Leeds baron painted him as a peaceful man with excellent business sense. Had he been in the importing and exporting world, I wouldn’t have minded working for him. However, despite making a success of his many ventures, it appeared he was failing at home. What could have happened to have him lose so much control over his own daughter?
The man went on to talk about failed suitors and loss of reputation, all significant problems for an Englishman. A woman’s reputation usually preceded her, and this young woman clearly had a terrible one. She must be a headstrong one. She evidently didn’t care about what her father or others thought about her, intriguing him even further. I wouldn’t mind meeting her someday. Perhaps I shall try my “Woman Whisperer” charms on her and help her mend her ways. It couldn’t be a good thing for any woman to be this headstrong. The next words out of the baron’s mouth brought him to a standstill.
“If she doesn’t marry one of our kind,” the man declared, spittle flying from his mouth. “Then I’ll marry her off to a commoner to get her off my hands!”
Had the baron indeed just said that? He would marry his daughter to a commoner? It dawned on Carlos that this was the answer to his prayers. The baron has connections in high places. If I marry his daughter, those connections will become open to me through this marriage. The icing on the cake would be fulfilling his mother’s desire to see him married. It didn’t matter to him that he was forsaking his freedom; he simply could not let the opportunity pass.
Before the man could go back on his word, Carlos scrambled to his feet, coming into the man’s view. Richard looked at him in surprise, but before he could ask anything, Carlos spoke.
“I will marry your daughter, Lord Leeds.”
The man frowned at him, pulling his face back. “Eh, who said that?”
Is he so drunk that he cannot see me standing here right in front of him? Carlos stepped closer to him, making sure the man could see him. Finally, the baron’s bloodshot eyes appeared to focus on him.
“And who are you?” the man demanded, his words slurred.
“Carlos Fernandez.”
The man’s eyes left him, focusing on an object above Carlos’ head. Is he thinking, or has he gone into a stupor? The baron looked at him again, revealing that he knew the name, but he didn’t look too confident about that. I couldn’t be bothered about whether or not he recognises me; I just want his word that I can marry his daughter.
“Did you mean what you said, My Lord? Will you allow your daughter to marry a commoner?”
Say yes, please say yes. The man hesitated, his expression thoughtful. I need a way to back him into a corner and make him stick to his word, but what? If he goes back on his statement, I will have lost my opportunity. Fortunately, the baron admitted to his words.
“Suppose I do. What is it to you, Carlos Fernandez? Do you indeed wish to marry my daughter?”
This is precisely what I wanted to hear. Carlos’ lips stretched into a wide grin, satisfaction filling him.
“I would not say it if it were not true. Richard will vouch for me in saying that I am not a man who speaks idly.”
As if on cue, Richard stepped forward, briefly clasping his shoulders before speaking to the baron. It seems my friendship with him has come in handy. I am glad I decided to go to the club this evening. After a moment or two, the baron turned his gaze back to Carlos, his head tilted as he looked him up and down. I feel like a slave for purchase in the town’s square. The only thing needed now is for him to come and examine my teeth. Still, he would accept the examination if it meant that he could marry the man’s daughter. It vaguely occurred to him that he knew nothing else about the woman beyond her reputation, and Richard calling her a beauty. At least I know that she is lovely to look at, and I am confident that I shall tame her in due time.
“Very well, I accept,” the baron declared.
He did? Wait a moment, who was to say that the man wouldn’t go back on his word at a later stage? He is drunk; he’ll say that he does not remember anything.
“I need more than your word, My Lord. What if you forget about what you just said?”
The man appeared taken aback, the two little red splotches on his cheeks deepening in hue. Perhaps I have offended him, but I must be certain that he will not go back on his word.
“What is it you want?” the baron demanded.
Carlos thought about it for a moment. I need physical proof of our agreement. Carlos’ eyes fell on the man’s signet ring, a sure sign of his importance. That will not be enough. He could say that I stole it from him. Then it came to him: a written agreement! A declaration stating that the baron would willingly give his daughter up for marriage to him. He could have Richard sign it as a witness, so there was no doubt in anyone’s mind about its validity.
He told all this to the baron, who didn’t look happy about parting with his ring. Carlos was glad that he had the man sign the agreement he had quickly written out when he did because the man looked ready to drop. A handshake should seal this deal.
“Shall we shake on it, My Lord?”
It took the baron two tries to locate his hand, but as their palms touched, he went down, crumpling to the floor in a heap. Carlos was jerked down with him, but he managed to keep himself from landing beside the man.
Stepping over the baron towards the door, he looked down at the ring and paper in his hand. Finally.
Chapter 6
Aurora stuck her tongue out to the side, focusing on the group of piled stones. All she needed to do was knock them down with her stone, securing her win.
“You won’t hit it,” said Tommy. “It’s too far.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you doubt me, little Tommy?”
He scowled. “I’m not so little anymore. I’ll be thirteen this summer, and when I turn eighteen, I’ll marry you.”
This was met with much laughter from the other children, deepening his scowl. Aurora only smiled, nudging the growing boy with her sh
oulder.
