Lorena didn’t like this, so she walked toward him and wrapped her arms around his chest, giving him a hug. Then she rubbed her face against his chest, seeking his warmth, and declaring, “You’re my haven.”
He stilled and his arms went tight around her. “What did you have to drink?”
“Gin,” she confessed, still holding him in the shadows of the night. She pressed her nose to his shirt and inhaled. He smelled divine.
“You’re drunk,” he said.
“Yes,” she admitted, tightening her hold on him.
Then she heard him curse and in the next instant, she was being picked up and carried off somewhere.
“Have you ever been drunk before?” he asked her.
“No,” she confessed. “I tried to get there once, after my parents died, but Francis wouldn’t let me. He told me that once I started, it would be hard to stop. He said one shouldn’t drink away their sadness.”
“He was right,” Ashwick said as he continued to walk. “That’s what my mother did. It was liquor or laudanum for her.”
Lorena sobered somewhat at that. “I’m sorry, Ashwick. Is this why you don’t drink?”
“Yes,” he told her.
She felt herself pressed closer to him as they climbed into a carriage. Ashwick didn’t set her down as the carriage rolled away. He held her and Lorena thought that perhaps it wouldn’t be so horrible to owe herself to him.
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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
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Ashwick returned to Francis’ house to find that three of their friends were still there, playing cards in the parlor. Someone had brought cigars and brandy. Evidence of it lingered in the air. Furniture had been delivered. There was a sideboard, tables, chairs, couches, and lanterns spread throughout the room. Even a piano sat in the corner. With the windows cleared, the home had returned to its grand self.
Julius’ dark blond head came up from a card table and he asked, “Is Lorena all right?”
The other men at the table, Morris, Franklin, and William, all looked up and waited for an answer.
“She’ll be all right,” Ashwick said.
Francis followed him into the parlor and his scowl faded at the sight of the room. He looked around and asked, “Where did all this come from?”
“I brought most of it,” Calvin said, taking a place at the table. “I figured with Ashwick here, I might as well spend more time here to keep him company.” Calvin looked over at Francis and said, “You know how I like my cards and brandy.”
Ashwick grinned and took a seat on the couch. Calvin and Frank’s family, though not titled, were very wealthy gentry. Ashwick had a feeling Calvin could furnish every room in the house and still not go through a month of his allowance. Also, Calvin was known to win at cards because he cheated.
Francis, who was still standing at the door, crossed his arms. “Don’t they have both cards and spirits at Wilkin’s?” Wilkin’s was Calvin’s preferred club.
“Calvin has been blackballed,” Frank said with a grin. “Did you really think he came here to keep Ashwick company?”
Ashwick laughed. “They voted you out?”
Francis chuckled and dropped into one of the new wingback chairs. There was a moment of pleasure on his face as he settled into the cushion. He asked Calvin, “What did you do now?”
“What he always does,” Morris answered, his teal-colored eyes still on his cards. “He cheats.”
“They can’t prove it,” Calvin said.
“Yet you’re too arrogant to deny it,” Frank told him with hard hazel eyes that matched Calvin’s.
Calvin threw down his cards. “There’s no fun without cheating,” he declared. “The rules make the game boring. Predictable.” Calvin was more intelligent than he allowed others to believe. Ashwick had noticed this earlier on in their friendship. He hid just how smart he was behind his charm.
“Have you ever tried doing something else with your time?” Francis asked him.
Calvin rose and went to the sideboard. “What would you suggest? I start a needlework circle?” He turned and grinned at the room.
There was some chuckling.
“Why needlework? It seems such things are no longer good enough for even women. Now we’ve a society of spinsters created by young women?” Morris shook his head. “Unacceptable.”
They were finally getting to the heart of the issue. Ashwick agreed with Morris. Though Ashwick had broken from tradition where some things came to mind, he did not like the idea of completely destroying society’s structure. Morris, who’d been raised to rule a dukedom, could be stricter about certain traditions than even Ashwick.
He shouldn’t have been surprised that the Duke of Cort had offered for Lorena’s hand for more than her beauty and her safety. Morris was thinking of the safety of the ton.
“This is what happens when beautiful women are left to think for themselves for too long,” Calvin said, pouring two glasses of brandy. He took one over to Francis and retook his own seat. “They must be stopped.”
“Only marriage could stop such a thing,” Franklin said. “Lorena and her friends need to be reined in.”
Francis said, “I agree, but you know Lorena.”
“And Genevieve,” Morris said, giving him a look. “Tell me you plan to marry her and soon.”
Francis’ jaw clenched and he said, “I can’t.”
“You’re a fool,” Calvin said. “Give me a woman who looks at me the way she looks at you and she’d be with child before nightfall.”
More laughter.
Morris wasn’t finished. “Everyone in this room knows that if you married Genevieve, Lorena would likely put a stop to this society. You’ve known her your entire life, and we’ve known them since they were ten. They rarely do anything without the other. The society needs to be stopped before more women decide to join. Marry Genevieve.”
Francis said nothing.
Morris met his eyes and said, “Then I’ll marry her.”
There was a murmur amongst those watching as Morris and Francis held a war of eyes. The tension in the room was thick enough to swallow.
Calvin was grinning widely between Morris and Francis. “Oh, this could get interesting.”
Francis, who’d looked ready to call Morris out, settled back in his chair and grinned. “Very well. Court her then.” The challenge was plain.
Calvin sucked his teeth and said, “Francis is only allowing this because he knows that Genie will always be his.”
Based on Francis’ grin, Ashwick was inclined to agree.
Morris was grinning now as well, but not for the same reason. He held Francis’ eyes and asked, “Are you sure, friend?” The look in Morris' eyes was one Ashwick was sure that in the span of a night had turned more than one girl into a woman. Morris’ sport for pleasure was not cards, but hunting. The Cort estate was known as the best hunting grounds in England, but Morris found he enjoyed the hunt both in and out of the forest.
If it had been any other man, Ashwick wouldn’t have been worried, but with Morris…
Silence filled the room.
Francis’ expression had returned to deadly. “Don’t go near her.”
“You’ve until the end of the summer,” Morris said. “You’ve had plenty of time.”
“Morris,” Francis warned. “You don’t even love her.”
“You’ve no idea what I feel,” Morris replied.
“Damn,” Calvin said, stealing the words out of Ashwick’s mouth. This was getting out of hand, so Ashwick thought it time for an announcement of his own.
“I’ve asked for Lorena’s hand.”
Everyone turned to Ashwick.
Francis frowned. “I heard about you all marching over to my sister’s house without asking my permission first. You’re lucky you’re all my closest friends or I’d be calli
ng you out. I’m still the Duke of Valdeston and her damned brother.”
“I think,” Franklin said, “after being forced to climb a tree in order to return a bird’s nest to its bush, I am also her brother.”
“As am I,” Morris said as he reached for the back of his hair. “I still remember being forced to walk around with ribbons in my hair.” It was no longer long enough to hold a ribbon and Ashwick could only guess why.
“Ribbons?” Calvin said. “Try being dragged into fisticuffs with the village butcher’s son because he called the blacksmith’s daughter a name.” He threw up his hands and said, “Lorena and Genie! Always sticking their noses where it doesn’t belong.”
“And getting your nose broke by the butcher’s son,” Franklin said with a laugh.
Everyone laughed.
Ashwick had heard these stories before, and they always made him laugh. Yet, they always made him regret never simply defying his father and going to the country parties. It seemed Lorena was very used to getting into trouble.
Calvin touched his nose. “She’s lucky I’m still beautiful.”
Francis shook his head, but he was still smiling.
Calvin went on, “Yes, well, it doesn’t matter that we proposed. She told us all no.”
“Said we’d all regret it,” Morris said. “Swore we’d fall in love with someone else eventually.”
“Someone who isn’t Genie,” Francis told him.
Ashwick could see the men did not understand what he was saying… and that the conversation was returning to where he’d led it away. “I asked for Lorena’s hand, and she did not tell me no.”
Everyone’s eyes returned to Ashwick.
Francis lifted a brow and said, “She didn’t say no? What the bloody hell does that mean?”
“Well,” Ashwick paused. “With your permission, Lord Valdeston…” He grinned. “We’re getting married.”
“Thank God,” Calvin shouted.
Morris and Frank congratulated him.
Francis grinned and said, “You and Lorena? You do realize you’ll most likely die within the first year, don’t you?”
“It’s a chance I’m willing to take,” Ashwick told them.
The room grew silent at that comment.
Francis’ eyes narrowed and he leaned toward Ashwick. “Exactly, what is it you feel for my sister?”
“I love her,” Ashwick said without hesitation. “Truly love her,” he decided to clarify for the room.
He looked around and found everyone smiling at him.
“Does she return your affections?” Calvin asked.
“Yes,” Ashwick said. “She told me so. Repeatedly.”
“When was this?” Francis said. Then his smile fell and his anger returned. “Were you alone?”
Ashwick had no idea what to say to this, so was glad when Calvin cut in.
“We should have a party. Invite all the Nashwood men to celebrate.” Calvin grinned. “Set up some tables, play some cards, but no women.”
“No women?” Ashwick asked. “How does one go about having an engagement party without the woman who is engaged?”
“He doesn’t want an engagement party,” Franklin cut in. “He wants Wilkin’s.”
“My house is not a gentlemen’s club,” Francis said.
“It’s barely a house,” Calvin said, stating a fact that was true. “With all the extra space, we could easily fit in a table or two.”
Two or more, Ashwick thought.
And he thought some more.
“If we got a cook…” Ashwick’s words trailed off.
Morris said, “That other drawing room toward the back would work for fencing.”
“The west wing of the house could easily be turned into apartments for those who wish some place to rest their heads after long journeys.” Ashwick narrowed his eyes and looked around the room. He was not the only one doing so. Morris and Franklin had stopped looking at their cards and were now focused on the Valdeston townhouse.
“No,” Francis said.
“Do you suppose?” Morris asked, not finishing the question that was in every else’s thoughts. “It is close to St. James Street.” The rest of the clubs were located on St. James Street. Valdeston’s townhouse was around the corner.
“Yes,” Franklin said with a nod.
Calvin was grinning.
“No,” Francis said. “My home will not be turned into a gentlemen’s club.”
“Nashwood London,” Calvin suggested.
Francis stood and said, “No.”
“But think of the money,” Morris told him. “It’s either that, or you start digging for the Valdeston treasure.”
This got a chuckle from the room.
“Think of my reputation,” Francis countered. “I’m the Duke of Valdeston. I can’t conduct such business and still be respected by my peers… or go treasure hunting.”
“But I can,” Calvin said with a wide smile. “Business, I mean. I’m a second son to landed gentry. No one will care what I do.”
Ashwick thought that the best idea.
Frank said to Francis, “It could keep him out of trouble.”
Francis crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. Ashwick noticed then just how much he and Lorena resembled one another. Their expressions while angered were almost identical, except for where Lorena’s features were soft, Francis’ were hard.
Calvin went on, “I think I might enjoy running a table as opposed to sitting at one.”
“Men wouldn’t join knowing you’re running the tables,” Francis told him. “They’ll suspect you of cheating.”
“He would be cheating,” Frank told him.
“The men enjoy the challenge,” Calvin told them.
“Then why were you blackballed?” Morris asked.
Calvin was silent and looked at his hands. “Wilkin might have persuaded the vote.”
“Why?” Frank asked.
“Well, Miss Wilkin,” Calvin began. “His very lovely daughter—”
Francis held up his hand. “I’ve heard enough,” he declared. “And so that we are all very clear, no courtesans in the house.”
“Well, at least one or two,” Calvin protested.
“None,” Francis said.
“So, you’ll do it?” Morris asked him. “With the name Nashwood London, every gentleman will want an invitation. Every gentleman wants to be us.” And he said it with little arrogance, for the fact was true. The ten men had always been an exclusive group no matter where they went and though others tried to break into the fold, they never quite fit.
Francis sat back in his chair and said, “I don’t know. It’s my family home, but Calvin is right. I’ve barely used it as a home. This is the first evening in a year that it’s looked welcoming.”
“And a home like this was built to be admired,” Ashwick told him. “You don’t have to keep the club here. Once you’ve enough money, you can move it wherever you choose.”
“I wouldn’t even have money to start,” Francis confessed.
“I’ll invest,” Morris said.
“As will I,” Franklin countered.
Calvin leaned back in his chair and said, “This will work.”
Francis was looking at them all. His eyes moved to Ashwick.
“We’re all with you,” Ashwick said. And this way, Francis would be able to keep his pride. This was no longer charity, but business between men. Even if those men were friends.
Francis nodded and said, “Well then, let’s begin making plans.”
* * *
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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
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Lorena knocked on Genie’s door and it opened a moment later.
“Come in,” Genie’s lady’s maid, Ann, said. Lorena had known Ann for years, so she knew she didn’t have to wait for Genie’s permission to enter.
Genie was sitting up in her bed, her red hair in a braid down her back, her fingers playing with her crucifix. She hadn’t dressed for the day. She was still in her night rail and her eyes were trained outside the window.
The day was gray and not one that Lorena would wish to stare at.
She climbed up on Genie’s bed and whispered, “How are you, darling?”
Genie turned her green eyes her way, and Lorena swore she’d never seen her friend so solemn before. They’d not had the chance to speak about her father but Lorena had dedicated her morning and would the next few months to Genie if need be. Genie had been there for Lorena when her parents had died. It was only fitting that Lorena would be there for her now.
“He’s not getting better,” Genie confessed. “The doctor doesn’t know what’s the matter. He barely keeps anything down. His body is hot one minute and cool the next.”
Lorena asked, “Have you been in to see him today?”
Genie nodded. “But he doesn’t allow anyone to stay long. He keeps shouting and scaring everyone away. I don’t know where he gets the strength to scream so often.”
Lorena pulled Genie in her arms. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this.”
Genie rested her head on Lorena’s shoulder but said nothing for a moment. Finally she asked
“So, how did Ashwick propose?”
Lorena grinned and decided to tell Genie everything, starting from the beginning of the day. “Well, I had quite a few visitors yesterday.”
“Who?” Genie asked.
“The Duke of Cort, the Marquess of Edvoy, the Marquess of Darvess, the Earl of Ashwick, and Mr. Calvin Lockwood.”
Genie straightened and looked at her. “What were Morris, Hugh, Julius, Ashwick, and Calvin doing at your house?” Even in private, Genie still called Emmett by his title. It was so strange that though Lorena had known the rest for what seemed like her entire life, she’d immediately felt a connection to Ashwick. She felt close to him even if she usually addressed him formally.
Lady Lorena’s Spinster’s Society ( The Spinster’s Society) (A Regency Romance Book) Page 13
