At her disappointed, crestfallen expression he allowed a suggestive look to come over his face. “I happen to know of a marriage you can rearrange however you’d like. What say you to taking our leave of the Duke and Duchess and head off to our own abode?”
For the moment Catherine allowed that it was none of her affair and went off in good humour with her own dearly loved husband. But at the back of her mind niggled her concerns, wishing Julianna could taste the happiness she had found in her marriage.
Chapter 19
After further fruitless efforts to engage Julianna in conversation, Lucius left the York mansion in a spirit of recklessness. He knew where his brother could usually be found, so he went in search of him. After meeting up with Malcolm, the two men went looking for trouble.
The recklessness quickly faded and Luc stood on the threshold of the den of iniquity his brother so enjoyed frequenting and he nearly balked. Sensing his disapproval, Malcolm chided. “Come along, milord, you are blocking the entryway. Make way with haste, I tell you.”
Rather than moving along, the viscount stepped back out of the doorway down onto the sidewalk, and the two men were quickly passed by lowborn individuals that sidled past them with sideways glances and vulgarity-riddled mumbles about the nobility.
Malcolm chuckled at the men’s rudeness before turning to address his brother’s wishy-washiness.
“What is going on with you this evening, little brother of mine? You show up out of the blue demanding to be shown a good time. When I take you around to all my favourite good time joints, you turn up your nose. I know you were born into the bluer blooded side of the family, but it sure isn’t like you to be of two minds about anything.”
Chagrined, Luc knew he was being uncommonly ridiculous and tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for his behaviour. It was impossible, so he merely shrugged at his brother.
“You are right, Mac, I am being ridiculous. Please forgive the odd behaviour. I meant it when I said I needed some diversion this evening.”
“You most certainly do, little brother. You were always overly serious, even as a boy, but of late you seem to have taken it to extremes. Now I completely understand you not wanting to talk about it, but at least try to follow through on the diversion part. This place may not look like much, but I can guarantee you’ll have a great time. The food and drink should rival any you could have been served at that ridiculous, fancy ball you were at earlier this evening. I know you don’t like to gamble too much, but the games they’ll be having here tonight should quickly clean out any cobwebs you have cluttering up your head. Now quit being a girl, and let’s go have us a good time.” With that bracing declaration Malcolm led the way into the dimly lit entrance.
After they had been checked out by an ugly brute of a doorkeeper, they made their way into a smoky, dim games room and were greeted by the obsequious major-domo who was rubbing his hands together as he imagined all the money he might be able to win off his well-heeled guests. Malcolm was a frequent guest, so he was recognized immediately. By their close resemblance, the host knew exactly who had entered that night.
“My dear Lord Ackerley, what an honour you are granting to our humble establishment this night. We occasionally have the pleasure of your brother’s company, but he has not yet brought you to join us. What could we get to enhance your enjoyment this evening?” he asked deferentially as he waved impatiently to a passing servant.
Used to such treatment, Luc didn’t think anything of the man’s behaviour, but Malcolm, being of baser stock, was never treated to such sycophantic antics and could not let it pass. “What is the matter with you, Patrick? Somebody must’ve slipped something into your drink because you sure are being strange.”
Angry and embarrassed, Patrick ignored what Malcolm had to say. Understanding washed over Luc and he tried to smooth all the ruffled feathers.
“Don’t get your knickers in a bunch, Malcolm. This is part of the good time you are supposed to be showing me. Now Patrick, my brother and I would greatly enjoy a bottle of the best of whatever you want to offer us. Which games would you recommend we start with tonight?”
This worked. Malcolm’s dark mood lightened, and he laughed while Patrick again rubbed his hands together with glee. They were soon seated at a table with a bottle to share and a deck of cards being split between them and two other shady looking men – gentlemen was not the best word to describe those two no matter how generous you were trying to be.
The play was running deep that night. Malcolm had been right, the cobwebs certainly could not linger in your head if you did not want to let a bunch of sharks fleece you. Luc would have been disgusted if he weren't having such a good time. He so rarely had the opportunity to do anything that was less than serious. Of course, many would think this was serious. Some in his world took their gaming extraordinarily seriously, but he was not one of them. Luckily for him, he had more than enough wealth that even if he didn’t have nearly his skills he would be fine. Unfortunately for his opponents, he did have the requisite skills, and try as they might they were not going to get their fingers on much of his blunt this night.
When those two finally accepted their defeat, Luc stood to look around and see if anyone he was acquainted with was also present. With an inward groan he saw that sure enough, there was someone he knew.
“Baron Hanford! How interesting to find you here.” Lucius was chagrined to see the young man in such a low establishment. He hoped the young fool was not running too deep. His hope was short lived when he heard how the bets were running at his table.
With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Luc realized he was going to have to do something. He didn’t know how it had happened, but he found himself wishing only good things for Julianna, and he knew instinctively she would be terribly upset were she to find out where her beloved nephew was at this moment.
He had not yet been able to discuss with her what he had ascertained from Fletcher when she had asked him to find out what was going on with her nephew, but he knew she would not want Fletch to be left on his own in such an establishment. Luc barely knew the reckless young lord, but he was developing uncomfortably warm feelings for his aunt, so he felt an extended responsibility for the young man.
Malcolm looked at Luc questioningly as he very obviously set out to win back all the young lord’s vowels. By the end of the night, the young baron was deep in debt to Viscount Beaufort.
“I never knew you to be in the habit of fleecing infants, brother!” he drawled sarcastically after the two men had escorted a very drunk young Fletcher home. Luc had insisted Fletch come to see him first thing in the morning, extracting the promise that he would not tell anyone about his deep play the night before.
With an exasperated sigh, Luc looked at his brother sheepishly. “I agree. It is disgusting. I have no concept of how the sharks do it! It was so easy to win with that boy! It was completely another thing to get his debts won off the other sharks there tonight,” he said with feeling, glad for once about his unparalleled skills with the cards.
Still looking at him appraisingly, Malcolm wondered out loud, “But it still begs the question, why would you set yourself to the bother of having the Montgomery boy in your debt?”
Luc did not quite know how to answer the question, since he did not know himself what all had compelled him. “It could prove useful,” was his cryptic reply.
Malcolm laughed good-naturedly at his brother’s lack of sharing. “Sometimes you are very like your father, always knowing things you do not wish to share. It is a rather irritating trait, I must say.”
It was Luc’s turn to laugh. “I find it interesting that he’s always my father when you wish to criticize.”
Malcolm grinned. “My start in life was rather unfortunate. I needn’t own him when I do not wish to, milord.”
* * *
They had arrived at the viscount’s townhouse not long before dawn was to arrive. “So, little brother, did you have fun tonig
ht or what? It didn’t turn out quite how I had expected there at the end, what with us robbing a child, but before that it was pretty good. The look on that numbskull’s face when he realized you weren’t going to be an easy mark was absolutely priceless. You should go out with me more often. I haven’t had that much fun in an age. I always forget how much I enjoy your company.” Malcolm put his booted feet up on his brother’s desk as he lounged back in the wing-backed chair in Ackerley’s library.
“Mayhap you should not allow so much time to elapse between times, and then it would not be such a difficult thing to remember,” drawled the viscount with a bite of sarcasm in his voice.
Never one to allow another’s wit to get him down, Malcolm tipped back his head and laughed heartily as the very tired looking butler brought them a tray and a decanter.
“That will be all, Henry,” the viscount excused. “Get yourself to bed. I apologize for keeping you up so late. I can manage to lock up after my brother if he decides not to stay overnight.”
“Thank you so much, milord. It was no trouble waiting for you, but if you’re sure, I will get myself off.” Henry bowed himself from the room.
“You apologize to your servants for what really amounts to being part of their job?” Malcolm demanded with incredulity. “You really don’t take too much after the old man, do you? Maybe I shouldn’t say he’s your father when I don’t care for something he did,” he continued in a musing fashion.
Now it was Luc’s turn to laugh. “Never mind, I learned my manners from my mother, not the viscount. Now tell me, big brother, are you going to stay overnight and partake of my cook’s generosity in the morning? I would hate to have to evict you, but I really would like to take to my bed shortly, so you have to either take advantage of my hospitality or get yourself off to somewhere else since I have already dismissed the servants.”
“Well since you put the invitation so graciously, I would love to stay overnight. While I do have a partiality for my own bed, I must admit to an avid curiosity about your meeting with the Montgomery boy in the morning. I wonder if he will even remember what took place tonight and if he will show his face here. If he does, I really must be here to see how you explain to him why he is suddenly so deeply in your debt.”
Luc turned a look of surprise toward his brother and stared at him for a moment. “There are so many things wrong with what you just said that I am unsure where to begin. First of all, of course the lad will come. For all his father’s faults, I am quite sure young Fletcher has been raised from the cradle to comprehend that a gentleman’s gaming debts are debts of honour and must always be paid, no matter the cost. And secondly, would you not agree that it is he, the errant child, who must explain his deep debt, not the debtor?”
Malcolm regarded his brother steadily. “Neatly sidestepped, my lord. I am back to thinking you to be the spitting image of the old man. Regardless how you want to play with semantics, I still want to be here when it happens. So lead me to my room, and I’ll let you get your beauty sleep. You’re going to need it if you’re going to deal with the child, then explain how it all happened to his doting aunt.”
The viscount visibly paled at this reminder of the deeper trouble he had gotten himself into. Dealing with Fletcher would be a stroll in the park compared to the tricky situation he faced with Lady Julianna. The lady was already avoiding him. Should his unconventional solution reach her ears, she would no doubt have an unfavourable reaction.
Then again, it may cause the lady to quit avoiding him, if only to fill his ears with a piece of her mind, he thought with an unrepentant grin.
“Let us sleep on it. Everything will look much better in the morning,” was the viscount’s optimistic observation as they locked the front door and ascended the staircase.
Chapter 20
Morning arrived much too soon for Fletcher’s peace of mind. His head felt like it was going to fall off; the pain was so bad. Unfortunately, no amount of headache could make him forget what had transpired the previous night.
He had gone carousing with some of his old friends that he had met while on his Grand Tour. They were great chums and knew their way around the seedier edges of London and had promised to show him the ropes. Fletcher did love all games of chance but usually confined himself to tamer fare than that which they faced last night. And now he was heavily in debt to Viscount Beaufort.
Fletcher was not completely clear on certain details, and this morning he had the sinking feeling that he may have been deliberately set up by his supposed friends. They certainly hadn’t waited around to ensure he got home safely. Nor had they done anything to stop him from getting into this mess in the first place, instead egging him on at every step.
But, Fletcher had to acknowledge that he could not blame his friends. It had been he, Fletcher Montgomery, who had been placing those bets. He had just kept hoping his luck would turn and he could dig his way out of this mess in the same manner that he had gotten into it. Sadly that had only compounded the situation. At least he had a certain degree of trust in the viscount, which was not something he could say for some of the other men he had gamed with the previous night. So no doubt he should feel a degree of gratitude that it was only the viscount’s name that appeared on all the vowels he had pulled from his pockets.
But he did not. His recollections were hazy at best, but as he thought about it and struggled to remember the events of the night before he felt as though Beaufort had a high level of determination to win his vowels off those other men.
Fletcher pondered, trying to think of any reason Lord Ackerley would behave this way. He had come over to Fletch’s table and watched the play for a few moments before calling the host over and demanding that coffee be served. He had then ordered Fletcher to step away from the table. It was at this point, if Fletcher could remember correctly, that the viscount’s half brother had invited him to play.
Malcolm had then engaged Fletcher in a game of chess. Fletcher had never even realized there were chessboards at a gaming hell. Apparently, some people would bet on anything. Mr. Mansfield was so skilled at chess that it had fully engaged all of Fletcher’s concentration. At the end of their game, the viscount had approached them and said they were leaving.
The next thing Fletcher knew he was being dropped off at home after vowing to visit the viscount as soon as he awoke the next day. Here it was the next day, and Fletcher would have to face the music.
Fletcher wondered idly how he was going to explain this to Aunt Julianna and the earl. As that thought filtered through his aching head, he sat up abruptly in bed and pulled the bell with vigour. When a servant answered his summons, Fletcher demanded water to bathe and shave as he jumped from the bed and began pulling on his clothes.
If that skunk of a viscount thought he could somehow get to his aunt through him, he had another think coming. Fletcher had some very ugly thoughts toward Lord Ackerley as he readied himself to go and confront the older nobleman.
He decided to walk, not wanting any of the servants to know what he was about. As he drew near the viscount’s address, his bravado began to falter. He was deeply in debt, and whatever the viscount’s motives nothing could alter that fact. It really was his signature on all those little slips of paper. And really, he doubted Ackerley would go to such effort just to coerce his aunt. Hadn’t Julianna gone out riding with him just the other day?
Fletcher stood on the bottom step and wracked his brain for ways he could pay off his debts without involving the earl or Julianna. His options were quite limited, but he hoped fervently he could work something out with Lord Ackerley since he had absolutely no desire to have his father find out he had been to such a low establishment.
He finally stopped procrastinating, climbed the stairs, and gave a vigorous swing to the knocker. The door opened immediately, and he was ushered into the elegant but manly interior of Viscount Beaufort’s townhouse. A well-trained footman showed no reaction to having a young man asking for the viscount at such an early
hour, merely bidding him to wait a moment while he verified his lordship’s availability.
Moments later the viscount himself descended the stairs, greeting Fletcher jovially.
“Baron Hanford. What an honour you do me arriving so promptly. I have not yet broken my fast. Join me in the dining room for a few minutes before we proceed with business.”
Fletcher instinctively felt this was not quite how this type of meeting would normally go, but he was powerless to resist the viscount’s lead. As they entered the dining room he was hailed by Mr. Mansfield, the viscount’s brother.
“Ah, milord, it is a pleasure to see you again. You look like you could use a cup of coffee. No doubt you think you don’t want to eat ever again, but I would highly recommend you have a bit of toast. I guarantee it will help.”
Fletcher grinned at the other man’s sympathetic tone. Clearly Mansfield had experience in feeling exactly how he did this morning. Fletcher sat meekly and allowed the footman to pour him a steaming cup of coffee and serve him a few slices of toast. Mr. Mansfield was correct in his assessment that Fletch’s instinctive feeling was to avoid food at all costs, but after a couple of bites of the toast he began to feel much more the thing.
“There you go, young man. You are looking decidedly less green about the gills,” Malcolm declared bracingly a few minutes after the three men had begun eating in companionable silence.
Sweet Surrender Page 17
