Passions of a Gentleman (Gentlemen of Honor Book 3)

by Rose Gordon

  Brooke pulled the paper from Rae’s grasp. “All I said was that he was a superior suitor, one I’d allow my own sister to marry, and that I was confident she’d have no objections.”

  “Splendid, now she’ll be expecting a proposal,” Rae said.

  “Perhaps she won’t be disappointed,” Brooke said beneath her breath.

  Rae narrowed her eyes. “What are you about?”

  “Mr. Fisher will be offering a proposal, won’t he?” Brooke put her hands on her hips. “Henrietta, I told you that I was only agreeing to this if you don’t do anything that will cause shame, or rather an infuriated Drake, to come to Andrew’s door.”

  Rae nodded. Brooke had been very adamant that if Rae did anything rash, such as running away to Scotland with Mr. Fisher, Brooke would hunt her down herself and well, the rest of what she planned to do was best left unmentioned.

  “Andrew and I will be there to visit in three days,” Brooke said, biting her lip.

  Rae held her breath and hoped Brooke wouldn’t change her mind now and make Rae wait three days until Brooke and Andrew planned to leave. “You are still allowing me to go today,” she ventured.

  Brooke nodded once, her lips forming a flat line. “I don’t like the idea of sending you alone, so just to make sure you stay safe on your journey. I have ordered Charlotte and Winston to ride in the carriage with you.” She grinned. “They’re loyal to a fault, so don’t you be entertaining rogue ideas.”

  “Or rogues,” Andrew barked from the door. Raking a hand through his black, silver-shocked hair, he walked into the room, a dark look on his face. “I still don’t like the idea of all of this.”

  Rae offered him a small smile. It was rather endearing how protective he’d become. She’d never had an older brother. There was Drake, of course, but one couldn’t have too many older brother sorts, could they? Besides, Drake always took Juliet’s side and went along with her matchmaking schemes. Save yesterday, Andrew had stayed firmly in Rae’s court. So…if she were forced by facing certain tortuous death to make a choice between the two, Andrew would edge Drake out. But only by a hair.

  “I’ll be all right,” she assured them. “I’ll be to Crumbles around nightfall—by then it’ll be too late to hie off to Scotland.”

  Neither Lord nor Lady Townson so much as cracked a smile. Rae bit her lip. Hard. That wasn’t the best thing to say.

  “Brooke, I promised you that you’d be invited to my wedding, and for as unladylike as I might be, I keep my promises.”

  Brooke reached over and patted her hand. “Thank you for reassuring me.” Her face softened and a smile threatened to overtake her lips. “Perhaps you should stay a few more days so I may help you pick out your trousseau.”

  “It’d be a shame to waste gauze on a smithy,” Andrew commented. “I’d think—”

  “That Reynolds is waiting with the carriage,” Brooke interrupted, shooting her husband a sharp look.

  He looked completely unashamed. “Sorry, love. I’m afraid you’re forcing me to spend so much time in the company of that reprobate who dares call himself my brother-in-law has made me less refined.”

  Brooke snorted. “Don’t blame Benjamin. You haven’t been refined since the day I met you.”

  Andrew arched a brow. “Are you taking credit for my being uncouth?”

  “Perhaps,” she said with a shrug, standing. She patted Rae’s hand once again. “But just so we’re clear, you were unfit for mixed company before we ever met.”

  Juliet’s response to Rae’s homecoming was not quite what Rae had imagined in the carriage.

  “You’re here—” Juliet poked her head outside the front door of Crumbles— “alone?”

  “Juliet, I’m sure she was safe,” Drake eased.

  “Safe?” Juliet’s grey eyes flew wide and her hands flew to Rae’s shoulders, squeezing just a little harder than was comfortable. “Were you safe? The coachman didn’t do anything he oughtn’t, did he? I swear if he so much as laid a finger—”

  “Juliet, I’m fine,” Rae broke in. Perhaps she should have asked Charlotte to bring Brooke’s missive up to the door before she disembarked from the coach. She pulled the missive from her reticule. “Here.”

  Without ceremony, Juliet broke the wax seal and pulled open the paper.

  “Are you enjoying your Season?” Rae asked Drake to stave off her discomfort.

  “It’s been splendid.” The pained expression on his face told its own tale of woe. Poor man must have been suffering from a temporarily addled wife all Season. Rae might have felt sympathy for him, but it was his fault. Truly, what did he think would come from all of their hiding in the closet together?

  “Of course it is,” Juliet murmured. “We’ve had a lovely time together.”

  Rae raised an eyebrow at Drake who nodded dutifully. No doubt Drake would have rather spent the Season in London, but with the physician’s concern about Juliet’s pregnancy, Drake would have driven himself mad had he gone to London and left her in the care of servants. Rae understood his concern since his first wife had died in childbed.

  An unusual feeling came over her. Would anyone care so much about her? She dismissed the thought.

  “Oh, Henrietta,” Juliet exclaimed. “We have so much to do!”

  “We do?”

  Juliet waved Brooke’s missive around madly. “Yes! We need to get ready for your wedding.”

  “Wedding?” Rae and Drake choked in unison.

  “To who?” Drake asked, amusement softening his face.

  “Your friend, Mr. Appleton,” Juliet said. Then, as if she thought perhaps Drake had forgotten the man who’d handled all of his investments for the last three years. “Surely you remember him, Patrick. He’s about your height. Green eyes. Brown hair. Wide…er…” she tapped her shoulders. “He works with his father who looks just like him, only with grey hair.”

  “I remember him, Juliet.” Drake folded his arms across his chest. “Though I find it curious you remember him so well.”

  Juliet waved him off. “He is perfect for Henrietta.” She heaved a loud sigh. “Oh, you two will have such adorable offspring.”

  Rae swallowed her gasp. Cough, cough, COUGH. HACK! HACK! Rae’s hand flew to her throat. Was this what choking to death felt like? If she survived, she’d have to remind herself not to try to choke down her emotions ever again.

  “Oh, forgive me for being so indelicate,” Juliet said, unapologetically. She said something to Drake about water then a moment later shoved a glass of water in Rae’s face. “Here, dearest.”

  Coughs still wracked Rae’s frame. Perhaps she’d better tell Juliet the truth. Well, not all of the truth. But some of it might not hurt? She took a deep breath, then another, and then chanced a sip of the water. The cool liquid was like a balm to her now aching chest.

  “Oh,” Juliet said on a sigh. “I am so relieved Brooke was able to secure you such a match.”

  Secure a match? If Rae had any air still in her lungs, she’d have had another coughing attack, she was sure of it. “Juliet,” she rasped. “I don’t think you should assume—”

  Juliet’s laughter drowned out Rae’s protest. “Dearest, I might not be bosom friends with Brooke, but I’ve heard enough about her to know it’s safe to assume the match is as good as secured.” She playfully wagged a finger at Rae. “And if it isn’t, you’ll be joining your chaperone at Caroline’s house party.”

  Upon further contemplation, it might be best not to breathe so much as a single word that might make Juliet question Brooke’s missive.

  “There’s no need for that,” Rae said sweetly. “However, a warm bath and a dinner tray wouldn’t be amiss.”

  7

  Simon scratched the edge of his cards against the stubble on his chin. The night was growing late and he’d been playing cards at White’s for the past four hours. One more hand, he told himself, blinking his stinging eyes. Was it just him, or was the smoke thicker than usual? He waved his hand through a thick cloud of sm
oke and placed his bet.

  Next to him a chair screeched against the wooden floor. Simon cast a glance over his shoulder and cringed. “What are you doing here?”

  His father blew out a deep breath and raked a hand through his hair. He wore a pained expression, but didn’t speak right away. He folded his hands in his lap and let out another breath. “Simon, I think we need to talk.”

  “About?”

  “Lord Norcourt.”

  Agitation swirled within him. Lord Norcourt, or the man’s sudden appearance, his overwhelming interest in Lucy, or anything to do with the man, to be honest, grated on Simon’s nerves. “I’d rather not,” he said through clenched teeth then turned his attention back to the card table.

  Across the table, Lord Matthew laid out his cards.

  Simon did the same.

  “Devil you, Appleton,” the older man said beneath his breath.

  Nodding numbly, Simon swept his winnings to his part of the table. He didn’t give a hang whether he won or lost, cards were just a distraction. One that wasn’t working at present.

  Feeling a set of eyes staring intently at the back of his head, he pushed to his feet, grabbed his coins and bank notes, and shoving them into his pockets, he barked, “What do you have to say?”

  “Perhaps I should just let you find out what Townson’s wife and Miss Hughes schemed up on your own.”

  Simon jerked his body around to face the Duke of Gateway. His body went rigid. Gateway himself was a man not to be trifled with on any score. Throughout Simon’s few years at Eton, he’d always heard tales about the legendary Dangerous Duke and his reputation even as a boy. It was widely noticed that since marrying five years ago, the man had changed considerably. Still, Simon’s father had always been insistent that he and Simon remain neutral and amiable to all of the peerage—particularly Gateway. He opened his mouth to issue the man an apology, but he couldn’t form a single word.

  Gateway stretched his long legs out in front of himself and crossed his ankles. “Was I not who you were expecting?”

  Simon shook his head, reaching for the back of the chair he’d been sitting in. He turned it around to face the duke, then sat. “My father,” he said by way of explanation.

  Gateway nodded once. “I passed him a minute ago when he was on his way out.” He paused, his face expressionless. “He looked about as out-of-sorts as you do,” he said quietly.

  Simon pursed his lips. “He wanted to discuss Lord Norcourt.”

  Gateway nodded again. Apparently the man needed no further explanation. The knowledge made Simon agitated all over again.

  “But that’s not what has me so ‘out-of-sorts’, as you say,” Simon said, looking for a distraction from the uncomfortable conversation that was about to ensue. “What did you mean by Lady Townson and Miss Hughes scheming?”

  Gateway’s left shoulder rose in a lopsided shrug. “You’ll find out soon enough, I expect.”

  “And how did you find out, I wonder?”

  “Our wives are sisters,” he said as if that explained everything.

  “All right.” Simon drew his words out. “What the devil is going on?”

  Gateway chuckled a moment, but when he stopped, his grin remained. “I don’t have all of the details—”

  “Then you shouldn’t be gossiping,” Lord Townson cut in, frowning. He grabbed a nearby chair and dragged it over to join them. “Why are you even here?”

  “Why are you here?” Gateway countered.

  “Because unlike you, I don’t get some sort of disturbed pleasure out of people having their lives ruined without them at least having a warning,” Townson said without reservation. He jerked his thumb back toward Gateway. “Now what has this coxcomb told you?”

  Simon’s eyes flew back and forth between both of them.

  “Well,” Townson prompted.

  “Nothing he didn’t need to know,” Gateway answered for him, raising Simon’s hackles. Who did this man think he was answering for Simon? “He doesn’t deserve to be leg-shackled to someone he has no interest in just because you can’t say no to your wife.”

  “Leg-shackled?” Simon repeated raggedly, narrowing his eyes on Townson. “What the devil is going on, Townson?”

  Again, Gateway chuckled. Simon and Townson ignored him.

  Townson raked a hand through his hair and twisted his lips. “There won’t be any unwanted leg shackling.”

  “If it involves me, it’d be unwanted,” Simon said quickly. Two failed courtships were enough for one Season. A third would brand him bad luck. Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing…

  “Would it?” Townson asked, cocking his head to the side.

  Simon started. “Would it what?”

  “Be unwanted?”

  “Yes,” Simon bit off.

  Townson made some sort of a harrumphing sound in his throat. “Well then, you’ll be delighted to know that you’re not the one Miss Hughes wants to be leg-shackled to anyway.”

  “I hope this discovery wasn’t a surprise to you.” Simon’s voice dripped with sarcasm, but he just couldn’t force himself to care.

  “Doesn’t surprise me,” Gateway said flippantly. “But that matters very little when Townson’s wife gets involved.”

  Townson sent the duke a pointed glance. “Mind your tongue, or you’ll be naming a second.”

  Gateway frowned. “Don’t jest about such pleasures.”

  “Say one more thing about my wife and you won’t need a second. We’ll settle this here and now.”

  “Sorry, Appleton,” Gateway said not a bit apologetically. “I’d tell you what the ladies have schemed up, but alas, my duchess is expecting me tonight.”

  “Poor girl,” Townson muttered. “Not a day goes by that—”

  “And neither of you will have another blasted day if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on,” Simon demanded, crossing his arms. He couldn’t care less about whatever private feud these two wanted to settle. “What did you do?” he asked Townson then moved his gaze to Gateway, “And what do you know?”

  “Yes, Gateway, what do you know?” Townson asked.

  Gateway’s lips contorted into an overdone frown, his pale blue eyes full of mischief. “Just that there will be a new Mrs. Appleton gracing the ballrooms around London soon.”

  “Ignore him,” Andrew said. His frown deepened. “It doesn’t make him disappear—unfortunately. But, as usual, Benjamin doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He sighed. “He can’t help it of course—” he dropped his voice to a stage whisper— “it’s just part of his illness.”

  Gateway snorted. “You might think my being in all the right places at the right time is an illness, but I think it’s an advantage.” He quirked a brow. “Now, you. You have an illness. It’s called prick-in-her-reticule-itis.”

  Townson shrugged. “That doesn’t bother me. In fact, it’s preferable to having my head shoved up my own arse—an ailment you’ve suffered from your whole life.”

  “Well, can he pull it out long enough to tell me what’s going on with Lady Townson and Miss Hughes?” Simon roared.

  Both men sobered then exchanged looks.

  “Miss Hughes has decided to go back to Crumbles for a few days,” Townson said.

  “And?” Gateway prompted.

  Townson scowled at him. “You might want to make a trip there to discuss Lord Drakely’s investments.”

  Simon folded his arms. Never in his life had he been so damn irritated. There was something they still weren’t telling him. “Why would you think I need to do that?”

  “Because it might have been implied that you and Miss Hughes have been courting,” Townson said matter-of-factly.

  “Courting?” Simon echoed.

  “With a strong prospect of marriage,” Gateway supplied helpfully, making every drop of Simon’s blood to drain straight to his toes.

  8

  If Rae had thought rushing to bed would dissolve her sister’s questions, well, she had thought wrong
.

  Contrary to her mother’s favorite words that everything looks better in the morning—it didn’t.

  Well, that wasn’t necessarily true.

  Simon Appleton looked awfully handsome standing in the doorframe of the dining room. Sure, his brown coat and dove pants were wrinkled and his cravat askew, and perhaps his face was a little flushed, but he was rather dashing for a man who’d clearly traveled all night.

  Traveled all night? Her body constricted from head to toe. What was he doing here?

  “You look like hell, Appleton,” Drake commented around a bite of kippers.

  “That can happen to a man when his lady disappears from Town,” he drawled. His green eyes swirled with something she didn’t recognize.

  “His lady?” Juliet said, grinning.

  Drake said something that sounded oddly like ‘besotted fool,’ then raised his voice, and motioned toward the chair next to Rae, “Join us.”

  Locking eyes with Rae, Simon strolled over to the unoccupied chair. He flashed her the widest grin she’d ever seen then took a seat.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered behind her napkin while the footman set out a plate in front of Simon.

  “I was concerned about your safety,” Simon replied for all to hear.

  Rae clenched her teeth. What did he care about her safety? “Well, now that you’ve seen for yourself that I made it here safely; perhaps you should be getting back to London.”

  “Henrietta,” Juliet admonished.

  “He’s an important man in London,” Rae defended.

  Simon coughed. Rae ignored his quirked eyebrow. “What would all of those lords do if he wasn’t there to advise them on their investments?”

  “Talk to his father?” Drake suggested.

  Rae frowned.

  “Oh, Henrietta dearest, no need to be bashful.” Juliet reached across the table and patted Rae’s hand. “I think it’s sweet he came here to see you.”

  Rae would just bet Juliet did think it was sweet. She could see the wedding bells chiming in Juliet’s grey eyes.