“Yes, I know.” Lisette nodded wearily. Her sister was right, but still she felt dreadful.
Something had to be done, and there was only one thing to do.
23
God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen
“Let it go for tonight, would you, Quinton?” John Roxbury, the Earl of Kingston, muttered to his brother later that evening. “I’m tired of hearing about your bloody houses already.”
Quinton rolled his eyes at his brother’s obvious lack of interest in his goodwill endeavors.
“Aren’t you tired of hearing about it, Eddington?” John asked his friend as they reclined in the large study of John’s home, enjoying some after-dinner drinks.
Lord Jeffrey Eddington shook his head. “No. I’m actually interested in what Quinton has to say. I think I may invest in such a worthwhile undertaking. There are far worse things I could spend my money on.”
“God help me!” John Roxbury groaned in misery and sank deeper into his leather chair, cupping his brandy for comfort. He was shorter than his brother and perhaps a bit wider, but he had the same fair coloring and magnetic smile. But he was not smiling now. “I’m stuck with you two saints for the evening. I was hoping we could play some cards and have a bit of fun and all you boys want to do is save the city’s wretched poor.”
Jeffrey Eddington and John Roxbury had been friends for years, and because of that, Quinton had become acquainted with him as well. Quinton liked Eddington and had been eager to include him in his housing efforts, especially when he learned about his connection to Lord Waverly.
“Just because Louisa is out of town doesn’t mean you can’t do something good,” Quinton quipped dryly.
“Your brother can only have fun when his wife is away.” Eddington gave a good-natured laugh. “So we should do what he likes this evening. I shall get the cards.”
“It’s easy for you to be magnanimous, Eddington. You do what you wish every night of the week!” John lamented. “And with a different woman each night!”
“Guilty.” Eddington held up his hands in mock helplessness. “But in my defense, the Earl of Babey has more of a reputation with the ladies than I do.”
“Oh yes, he’s rumored to be quite the cocksman. Even more so than you, Eddington. It must be nice not to be shackled to the same woman for the rest of your life,” John mused, downing his brandy.
“There are some benefits to being an illegitimate son,” Jeffrey quipped. “There’s no burden of passing on the family name, so there’s no pressure to marry.”
“Even so, you have a line of beauties willing to be your wife anyway!”
“You didn’t marry too shabbily, Kingston,” Jeffrey reminded him. He spoke the truth, for Lady Kingston was a lovely woman.
John sighed, happy in his feigned misery. “Yes, but who knew she would turn into such a harridan? She never allows me to do anything fun.”
Quinton chuckled. “Poor John.”
“My wife has left me to my own devices while she is visiting her cousin; therefore, I am free to do what I like in the meantime,” John defended his position, taking another swig of his fine brandy. “And I would like to enjoy this evening, which does not include listening to you two rattle on about helping all the unfortunate wretches in the city! Louisa returns home tomorrow, so come on, gents!”
“You make it seem as though your wife controls you, instead of the other way around, as it should be,” Quinton said to deliberately irritate John.
It was far too tempting to taunt his older brother a bit. It was retribution for all the abuse he took over the years as the youngest in his family, for Quinton’s three older brothers had teased him without mercy. He also knew his sister-in-law Louisa was strong-willed and kept his wildish brother on the straight and narrow, as well she should.
“She does control me,” John admitted with a resigned groan. He shook his head sadly in defeat.
Eddington commented with a laugh. “That is because Louisa is no fool.”
“Just you wait, Quinton,” John foretold ominously.
“You’ll be a married man in a few weeks and you’ll see how it is.”
“I shall not let my wife control me,” Quinton stated. He referred to Emmeline, of course. But as the wedding loomed closer, he found it more difficult to imagine her as his wife. More and more he found himself not thinking of Emmeline Tarleton when he said the word wife. It was Lisette Hamilton whom he pictured at his side. He had not slept at all for thinking of her.
Their passionate encounter in his carriage the other night still weighed heavily on his mind. It was torturous.
Eddington scoffed, “We’ll be the judge of that after you’re married to Lady Emmeline!”
“That reminds me,” John began, suddenly sitting up straight. “There is something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, Quinton.”
“What is it?” Quinton asked, poised to take a sip of his brandy.
“Louisa told me she heard a rumor about you and another woman.”
Quinton froze before the glass touched his lips. He had not expected to hear this.
“Now the conversation is finally getting interesting,” Eddington remarked with a bit of a lopsided grin. “It’s not about Quinton and Lady Trahern, is it? That’s old news.”
For a moment Quinton wondered if Eddington referred to his recent split with Olivia, but he was more worried about what his sister-in-law had heard.
“No.” John’s expression was one of confusion, his eyes on Quinton. “Louisa wanted me to check with you. It seems her cousin, Penelope Eaton, told her that she saw you kissing a young lady in a shop in Brighton last week and that same young woman was seen on the street with you yesterday and you both got into your carriage together.” He paused for emphasis before adding, “Alone.”
Quinton gave a careless shrug. “What of it?”
“Well, is it true?” his brother inquired impatiently.
“Some of it,” Quinton admitted with heavy reluctance.
“Come on, Roxbury,” Eddington coaxed a bit gleefully. “Give it up.”
“What?”
“Were you kissing her?” Eddington wanted to know.
Quinton hesitated. “Not in the shop.”
“Ho, ho! But you were kissing her at some point then!” John cried in wicked delight and astonishment. “You are in deep trouble, little brother. What are you going to do if Emmeline should hear about this?”
“She already has.” He took a big swallow of his brandy, relishing the heated burn in his throat.
“Emmeline knows?” Eddington exclaimed incredulously. “And you are still alive? She hasn’t had her father kill you yet?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Emmeline and I have discussed the baseless rumor, and I have assured her there is nothing for her to worry about.” Quinton only hoped that was the truth.
“Is there anything to worry about?” His brother eyed him carefully, the concern evident on his round face.
“No.” Quinton had moved way beyond worry as of last night. He was now in a state of complete agony over his current situation with Lisette Hamilton.
“Well,” John sighed. “This is a most unusual development.”
“Who is the girl?” Eddington asked with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Do we know her?”
“Oh, you might know her, Jeffrey!” John interjected with his typical obliviousness to Quinton’s desire to drop the subject. “Louisa told me it was one of those Hamilton sisters. You know, the pretty sisters of Lord Waverly’s wife. I can’t remember which name she said, but Penelope Eaton saw Quinton with her. You’re quite close with that family, aren’t you, Jeffrey?”
Quinton groaned. He did not wish for Lisette’s name to be bandied about in such a manner. No touch of scandal should mar her beautiful name. It made what was between them seem rather sordid, when it was nothing like that at all. He had only the highest regard for Lisette. His feelings for her were . . . What were his feelings for her? Intense. Powerful. All-con
suming.
Thunderstruck by this news, Jeffrey Eddington stared at Quinton in utter disbelief. “You are involved with one of the Hamilton sisters?” he cried. “That’s impossible!”
Quinton said nothing in his own defense. Once again he swallowed some brandy, now desperately needing the heated burn in his throat.
Clearly disturbed by something, Eddington stood up, eyeing Quinton with what could only be deemed as intense scrutiny and not a little distrust. Jeffrey’s usual relaxed state and jovial demeanor disappeared entirely, replaced with a dark, foreboding expression.
Eddington began thinking out loud, “Well, it’s obviously not Colette with her about to have a baby any day now. And Juliette’s been out of the country. They are both happily married and therefore completely out of the question. Little Yvette is still nothing but a child. Lisette’s engaged to be married, so that only leaves Paulette. But Paulette is not the type to—wait!” He stopped and narrowed his ice blue eyes, glaring at Quinton. “Did you say you were in Brighton last week with this woman?”
Quinton gave a brief nod of his head. This evening was not going well at all.
“Jesus!” Jeffrey cried in abject disgust. “You are having a dalliance with Lisette Hamilton?”
Quinton buried his face in his hands. There was no getting around it now. He had no one to blame but himself for this god-awful mess.
“Oh, Lord, not Lisette!” Jeffrey continued his rant and on his face was an expression of utter revulsion. “She is the sweetest of all of them. She would never do anything to harm anyone. She couldn’t possibly be involved with you! Why, she’s been devoted to Henry Brooks for as long as I’ve known her. I swear, Roxbury, if you have involved that lovely girl in anything illicit or have compromised her in any way, I will flat-out kill you.”
Raising his head, Quinton noted the threatening look in Eddington’s eyes.
“And if I don’t kill you first, you can be sure that Lucien Sinclair will.”
Quinton began, “It’s not what you think—”
“It’s not what I think?” Jeffrey yelled in outrage. “It better not be what I’m thinking, I’ll tell you that! If I had my gun with me, I’d shoot you right now.”
“Take it easy there, Eddington,” John said, watching the heated exchange with wide, nervous eyes. “No one is going to kill anyone here tonight or any other night.”
“Those Hamilton girls are like sisters to me, and I would protect them with my life if need be,” Jeffrey went on, his ire increasing with his every word. “I don’t know what’s going on with you and Lisette, Roxbury, but I swear to you—”
“Yes, I know, I know. You will kill me.” Quinton stood up and faced him, putting his hand up to stop Eddington’s tirade. “And quite honestly, if I did hurt her, I would gladly let you kill me. But I swear to you, I would never intentionally hurt Lisette Hamilton.”
“The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Roxbury.” Eddington’s voice was edgy and cold. “This is not a game! This is her life we’re talking about. You are to be married in a matter of weeks, and if Lisette’s name is dragged through the mud over this, she will most definitely be hurt, whether you intended her to be or not!”
“I didn’t want her name brought into this!” Quinton yelled back. “I wasn’t even the one who mentioned her name tonight!”
“But your brother just did!” Eddington pointed out with savage thoroughness. “Your sister-in-law did! God only knows who else knows about this! Obviously Lisette’s name has already been linked with yours and I don’t like it!” Jeffrey took a step toward him.
“I don’t like it any more than you do!” Quinton bellowed back, growing angry at Eddington’s accusations and threatening tone. Who was he to be so possessive of Lisette Hamilton anyway? What right did Eddington have to rebuke him in such a manner? “I would rather die than hurt Lisette.”
Jeffrey, giving Quinton a slight shove to the chest, shouted, “Then what in the hell are you doing dallying with a girl like her in the first place?”
“Because I’m in love with her, damn it!”
Stunned to silence at his own words, Quinton slowly sank back down into his chair, his anger deflated. Jeffrey Eddington took a step backward, and his brother John stared at him in complete shock. The room became eerily quiet. No one moved for a minute or two.
“What did you just say?” Eddington’s voice was low, just above a cold whisper.
Quinton muttered, “You heard me.”
“I need another drink,” John declared, heading to the sideboard and bringing back the entire decanter of brandy. He refilled all of their glasses, before taking his seat once again. “I think you had better tell us what is going on, Quinton.” He cast a worried glance at Jeffrey. “Before Eddington’s head explodes over there.”
Jeffrey still hadn’t moved. He simply stood there staring at Quinton in complete astonishment. “Yes, do tell us.”
“Neither of us expected any of this to happen,” Quinton confessed, his voice weary. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “It was a series of coincidental meetings that led us to be together. We met quite accidentally two weeks ago and again while we were in Brighton. It kills me to think her reputation could be tarnished in any way because of me.”
“Well, we know how you feel, but what about Lisette?” Eddington asked. “Does she have feelings for you?”
“I don’t know.” Quinton paused, recalling her sweet words that night in his carriage. There was a look in her green eyes that told him all he needed to know. “Yes,” he admitted with some reluctance. “I think she might.”
“Jesus,” Jeffrey muttered, shaking his head. He sat down in his chair, a grim expression on his face. “What are you going to do?”
“You can’t call off the wedding to Emmeline now!” John cried out in dismay.
“You honestly think I don’t know that?” Quinton said quietly. “You don’t think I’ve lain awake every night since I met Lisette wondering what in the hell I’m going to do? You don’t think I haven’t tried to stay away from her or that I haven’t tried to talk myself out of loving her? Knowing she is promised to another man? Or that I’m betrothed to another woman? I don’t love Emmeline and I never have, but how in God’s name do I cancel a wedding to the only daughter of the Duke of Wentworth?”
“You can’t,” John stated with matter-of-fact calmness.
“The scandal would destroy everything.”
His brother was right. The scandal would destroy everything Quinton wanted.
And everything he loved.
24
Brought Tidings of the Same
Wednesday, December 17, 1873
“Lisette! Such a surprise to see you, my dear!” Henry exclaimed, looking up from his cluttered desk when Lisette entered his small and cramped office, his name inscribed on a neat sign that hung on the main door.
The busy young clerk out front had let her in with a look of curiosity. She had been to Henry’s law office only a few times before, but she had waited impatiently for him to come back from his business trip and could wait no longer.
“What brings you here today?” Henry asked, looking back down and shuffling papers with the ledger spread out before him.
She stood in front of him, nervous but determined. “I was hoping I could have a minute or two to talk to you, Henry.”
He avoided her gaze, intent on the papers before him. “Now? I’ve only just returned from Portsmouth and have stacks of mail and papers to attend to. Perhaps we could talk tomorrow when I am sure to be less busy?”
She stared at the man she was supposed to marry. His sandy-colored beard was neatly trimmed and hair immaculately combed. He had a kind face, honest and open, which was now distracted, his brows furrowed. His head was bent over a thick ledger, his expression intent.
Lisette began, “I haven’t seen you since our engagement party last week, and I really would like to talk to you about something important—”
“You ar
e upset about the business with the ring, aren’t you?” he interrupted, glancing up briefly from his ledger. “Yes, I know I disappointed you, and I am very sorry about the other day, but the matter could not be helped. We shall go first thing tomorrow morning to the jeweler, I promise.”
“I don’t wish to go to the jeweler tomorrow morning. Henry, I—”
“Then we shall go tomorrow afternoon.” He picked up his pen and began to write in the ledger, while still talking to her. “You deserve to have a ring that fits you properly. I am sorry I made you wait so long before I gave you—”
“Henry!” she exclaimed impatiently, causing him to look up at her in astonishment. “I am not here to discuss our engagement ring. I am here to tell you that . . .”
Lisette paused, now that she’d finally captured his attention and he was staring at her. She slowly sank down into the chair across from his oak desk. She had not wanted to discuss this at his place of business, but he had left her no choice. If she waited any longer, she would be telling him on Christmas. And that was something she did not wish to do.
“You are here to tell me what?” he encouraged her gently, setting down the ink pen and papers he had been holding. “You can tell me anything, you know, although this is really not the best time, my dear.”
“Yes, I realize that, but . . .” There would never be a good time to tell him what she had to say. Lisette swallowed and squeezed her hands together to stop them from shaking. What she had to tell him he would not want to hear. She wanted to throw up. “Henry, I wish to tell you that . . .”
“What is it, Lisette?” He seemed to be a bit irritated with her now.
“Well, I . . . we . . . It’s about our engagement.”
His sandy eyebrows rose in surprise. “What about it?”
“That is . . . I . . . I wish to break our engagement.” There. She had finally said it out loud. To Henry. Her hands stopped trembling immediately, and she felt an enormous sense of relief.
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