Ben’s expression was sober. “A fair assessment,” he said. “You do the same, though,” he replied.
“We’ve been busy in Scotland for nearly a year,” Morgan said. “I’ve lost touch with the usual rumor sources that once kept me abreast. I can’t help thinking that because no one will speak of whatever it is, aloud and to Will’s face, it must be a matter of reputation. Scandal has broken out while our backs were turned. Have you heard anything at your clubs?”
“Ah, now the purist thinks clubs are useful,” Ben teased.
“I still think they are an utter waste of time,” Morgan said flatly. “However, they are the driving engine of English commerce, which remains the purview of the upper class. If there is scandal and rumor to be had, it will be found there.”
“Then you had better talk to Dane,” Ben said, getting to his feet. “He is the upper class club member you need.”
* * * * *
They ate dinner at the big red brick house on St. James’ Square. There, Will glimpsed the peculiar arrangements and relationships within, to which the public was not privy. He met for the first time the red-headed Stephen Crispin Spearing, who had taken up residence in the house and was partners with Ben in their new law firm on Middle Temple Lane.
Will had only seen Spearing in the law court during Jenny’s trial. Despite the impression of a sharp-minded, ruthless opponent the court case had left him with, Will found Spearing to be in private a warm man of impeccable manners.
After the meal was over and Sharla excused herself to tend to the children, all the men at the table—Ben, Will, Morgan, Dane and Spearing—went to the Garrick club. Spearing and Dane were members. So was Will, although he realized with a start that it had been nearly two years since he had visited.
When they entered the main lounge room, Peter, Cian and Daniel waved them over to their circle of chairs. Footmen brought more chairs to accommodate the group. The circle expanded to encompass the cold, unlit fireplace and the nearby tables. While footmen hovered with decanters and glasses and cigars were lit, no serious conversation took place. Greetings and quick exchanges of news told Will that Peter and Cian and Daniel all knew Spearing quite well.
It struck him that once, he might have resented missing out on social developments of this nature. No irritation built in him now, though. The club had been the center of his life. Now it seemed enclosed, rarified and…well, antiquated.
The members of the club came here to drink, smoke, gamble and read newspapers. They could embellish the benefits of membership with talk of socializing with peers and enhancing business relationships, yet these men were merely marking time while one empty day after another rolled by.
Will sat back, considering the astounding thought. He hadn’t been near this place for years, yet his life was fuller, more interesting and…yes, happier, than it had been in a long time.
Had his life ever been this complete?
Soberly, he decided it had not. When had all the things he considered essential for a pleasant life, that this club embodied, ceased to have meaning?
Once the liveried footmen had vacated the room, the light conversation halted.
“You look grave, Morgan,” Daniel said. “You and Will, both. It must be a dire matter for you to step inside a club.”
Morgan rubbed at his chin. “It is Will’s problem we’re dealing with.”
Everyone looked at Will.
“I’ve been building a textile business in Kirkaldy for the last year—” he began.
Cian and Peter chuckled. Daniel’s brow lifted.
“What is it?” Will said, wary.
Daniel pressed his fingertips together. “The concept of you as a businessman is a startling one, Will.”
Will shrugged, trying to dismiss the awkwardness building in him. “I grew sick of spending my life inside these walls and not being able to remember the night before when I woke the following day.” He met everyone’s gaze squarely. “Or is it you object to a peer in trade?”
Everyone laughed heartily.
“In this family, Will, no one could dare object about anything. We would all end up biting our own tails,” Peter said in his gravelly voice.
“In that case,” Will replied, “you should know it is not my business, even though my name is upon the paperwork. It is Bridget’s business, from start to finish.”
A small, startled silence was the response.
“A woman ahead of her times,” Spearing said, his tone urbane. “I’m certain Lady Bridget will not be the last of such pioneers. There will be more women seeking independence in the future.”
“God, are we back to women and voting again?” Peter asked with a groan.
“It is unavoidable, Peter,” Daniel said. “Sooner or later, they will be able to vote.”
“It is quite insane,” Peter said with a snort. “They have no head for politics. They rarely bother to even read a newspaper.”
“Why should they, when they can have no effect upon the news that is in it?” Daniel shot back.
“I would beg to differ on the ability of women to grasp politics,” Ben added. “I often get the uncomfortable sensation that Sharla is smarter than any man in the house, including me…and Stephen, for that matter.”
Spearing smiled. “On the other hand, I know she is far more intelligent than I.” His smile faded. “It would be interesting to see what Sharla could make of herself if she were given the same opportunities as men.”
“Will is providing Bridget with exactly that sort of freedom,” Morgan said, “and she is every bit as effective as a man, only in ways that are unexpected because of her feminine perspective.” He smiled. “It has been an interesting year,” he admitted.
“Then why do you both look glum?” Daniel asked.
Morgan glanced at Will. Will nodded and outlined the problem just as Morgan had done that afternoon for Ben. Everyone listened in absorbed silence until he had finished, then for long minutes afterward.
“Scandal and ruin does dog this family, doesn’t it?” Cian observed. “It can be nothing else, of course. Someone has been speaking ill about Will behind his back.”
“None of you have heard anything?” Will asked.
They all shook their heads or murmured a negative.
“Scandal and ruin surrounds every great family,” Daniel said. “It is the nature of men to want to pull down those who have succeeded. You may not realize it because you are part of the Great Family. Most of society admires us and more than a few secretly wish they could grasp for themselves the freedom we appear to enjoy.”
Will saw Spearing’s glance toward Dane and Dane’s small smile.
“They don’t see the cost that comes with it,” Ben said, his voice quiet.
“The cost is worth it,” Cian said flatly. “To be free to love and live as I want…I would pay the price willingly.”
Peter looked skeptical. “Unless the price you must pay is those things you love.”
“I can see that you have never properly loved anything, Peter,” Dane said. “Give it time and you’ll come to see it as we do.”
Peter looked affronted. “I take exception to that. I like my life just as it is.”
No one answered. Will kept his jaw tight, resisting the urge to point out that Peter would change his mind, eventually, although like Will, he would probably have to be pulled to it by his feet, protesting all the way…
Will gasped, his heart leaping and his blood pumping hard, as he realized he was nodding along with every man in the room who had found love in his life. His mind sheered away from the fear-filled idea.
I am not in love. I married Bridget so we could help each other resolve problems. That is all.
That damned, stupid agreement. How many times had he cursed it, lately?
I am not in love!
Love wasn’t for him. Will was just like Peter, cynical about the trap that love baited, determined to remain free and unfettered for as long as possible…
Onl
y, he hadn’t been unfettered for a long time and contrariwise, he enjoyed more freedom than he had ever had before.
That doesn’t mean I am in love.
Will pressed his fingers to his temple as his head throbbed and his chest constricted. He couldn’t hear what anyone else was saying. Their voices were muffled.
He deliberately recalled Bridget as he had last seen her, with a pale face. She was the little cousin he had teased since before she could walk. He’d pulled her braids and untied her bootlaces. He had watched her turn her nose up at all men in the family to pursue a duke, instead.
Only, she had married him.
Because she had no choice, the cynical voice in his mind whispered.
There had been an alternative to marrying him, of course. Women managed such matters all the time. An extended journey to Europe or America and a quiet return several months later. Or a fictitious marriage to a man now deceased and a wedding band and black bombazine…
He’d thought of all those possibilities in the moment when Bridget had confessed her downfall to him. He’d thought of them all, then promptly dismissed them.
Will shifted in his chair, closing his eyes as his head and chest hurt even more. The need to get to his feet and walk was overwhelming. He had spent the summer thinking things through while walking. Now he was thinking through a different problem, one he had avoided considering until now, when it would not let him be.
Bridget had shown him that grasping and dealing with even the most severe and uncomfortable problem diminished the power of that problem. She had not ridiculed him when he told her about his inability to see numbers. Out of that dire moment had come a peace and ease he’d never thought would be possible.
He must grasp this problem, now. Grasp it and wrestle it to the ground, so he could rid himself of the ache and the acute discomfort.
Face it, he commanded himself.
The truth was, he had considered all the alternatives possible for a fallen and disgraced woman and dismissed all but one of them instantly, because none of them gave him what he wanted.
Bridget.
Had he always wanted her? Had he buried it deep, where her disdain for any man in the family would not impact?
I can’t be in love. Love isn’t for me.
Morgan gripped Will’s wrist. “Are you ill?” he asked quietly.
Will shook his head, clearing it. He sat up again. “A headache,” he said shortly.
“Perhaps from the strain of the day,” Morgan replied.
“Something like that,” Will replied.
Daniel put his glass down with a soft thud, looking at something behind Will. “There’s Sir Nigel Cowan.” He got to his feet and looked around the circle of men. “If any man knows the rumors circulating the ton, the editor of the Times will be one of them. Excuse me.” He hurried away, while footmen topped their glasses once more.
He returned a few minutes later, with a distinguished gentleman with a full beard and bright, inquisitive eyes at his side. Daniel introduced Cowan to the group and offered his seat to the man.
Cowen propped his cane between his knees. “How can I assist, gentlemen?”
Dane leaned forward. He was the highest ranking peer at the table. “Sir Cowen, one of my family—” and he waved his hand to include the group, “—was recently denied by a major bank a loan for a business venture. We have determined that a hidden stain on a reputation might be at the foot of it. I wonder, have you heard of such a stain that might explain the issue?”
Cowen looked around the group once more. “There are constantly rumors and whispers about all of you,” he said, sounding amused. “All of them are trivial and I won’t repeat them here. I am not in the business of publishing mere rumors. However, I have not heard gossip of a nature that would prevent a business deal from going through.”
“You have learned something, though?” Daniel pressed.
Cowan’s lips thinned. “Not about any of you in this room. To speak of it would serve no purpose and would generate ill-feelings.”
“Perhaps we need to hear it, anyway,” Dane said. “Then we can judge for ourselves or address the source. As you can see, we are ignorant of the matter and therefore innocent of the faults ascribed in the gossip.”
“Perhaps,” Cowen replied, “although is there any point in repeating it, if the subject is not here to speak for themselves?”
“It is purely family who surround you, Sir Cowan,” Dane said. “You can speak freely and know you have been of service to the family.”
Sir Cowen’s gaze shifted to Stephen Spearing, who stared back with a bland expression. “I see,” Sir Cowen said. His grip on his cane tightened. “The matter concerns Lady Bridget.” He looked at Will. “Do you still wish me to continue?”
Will’s heart creaked. “Yes,” he said, his voice tight. “Tell me.” He fought to clear his head of the noise that was threatening to deafen him. He must focus, now.
“The rumor shared with me said Lady Bridget was free with her favors before her marriage…that, indeed, the marriage was to obscure her indiscretions. In particular, the Duke of Taplow has boasted of his…” Cowen’s mouth curled down. “Conquest,” he finished with obvious distaste.
The roaring in Will’s head grew louder. He dug his fingers into the arm of the chair.
He had failed to protect Bridget all along.
Cowen got to his feet. “I trust that is sufficient for you to address your concerns?”
“Thank you, Sir Cowen,” Dane told him. “We can take it from here.”
“Good,” Cowen said shortly. “I confess I do not understand why a business proposition would fail because of such ordinary gossip. If all business was affected by the affairs of relatives, English commerce would immediately collapse.” He nodded to the group and moved away.
Daniel sank into the chair he had vacated, looking thoughtful.
Morgan leaned forward. “Chessewick was interested in the proposal until the moment we confirmed that Bridget was directly involved in the management of the business. Will…are you listening?”
Will made himself sit forward too, so that everyone’s heads were closer together and they could speak quietly.
“Unfounded gossip about a lady’s affairs is the primary sport of the ton. Hell, it drives the fortunes of papers,” Ben said. “Consider Jack and Jenny, just to begin. Why on earth would scurrilous rumors derail a business deal?”
“Taplow is Chessewick’s nephew,” Will made himself say.
“Even so, to take notice of unsubstantiated slurs is extraordinary,” Spearing said. “There are grounds there for legal action, Will.”
Will shook his head. “Chessewick is Taplow’s uncle,” he repeated, “therefore it is reasonable to expect that Chessewick would be part of the family’s Christmas celebrations in Taplow, yes?”
Morgan frowned. “I suppose, yes.”
Will sighed. “The rumors are not unfounded,” he said heavily.
Silence gripped them.
Peter cleared his throat. “Will, we all know Bridget. I find it hard to believe she would willingly…” He trailed off helplessly.
“He all but slid an engagement ring onto her finger to trick her into it,” Will ground out. “Then he left her to find her own way home on Christmas Day, while he went back to his family.”
The silence this time seemed to throb and pulse.
Cian’s voice rumbled softly. “That explains much that has puzzled me about you and Bridget, Will. I wish it were possible the entire family could learn what you have done to save the reputation of one among us.”
“Except I have failed to save her at all,” Will raged bitterly. “The bloody man is out there boasting of what he did and making it sound as if she was eager to participate. No wonder the bank recoiled. They think a woman of no morals involved in a business will ruin it.”
“If anyone has a lack of morals, it would be Taplow,” Peter said. “Coaxing a reluctant lady is one thing. From the sound of it
, what he did is nearly…”
“Extortion,” Spearing said flatly. Ben nodded in agreement.
“Well, I was about to say ‘criminal’,” Peter said. “I have no idea what extortion means, although if it fits…” He shrugged.
“Only, it isn’t true extortion in the eyes of the law,” Ben added. “Proving it would be difficult and it would make the entire mess public, which would negate everything you have done to correct the matter, Will.”
Will shuddered, recalling the public shame Jack and Jenny had suffered.
Dane picked up his glass. “It occurs to me that Taplow is a member of this club, too and Parliament is in session…”
Something hard and acid gripped Will’s chest. “He’s here?” he breathed.
“Most likely,” Dane said. “I believe he likes to play whist in the second card room on the first floor.”
Will wasn’t aware that he had jumped to his feet, only that he was crossing the room with Morgan trying to grip his sleeve. Will shook Morgan off. He knew the card room Dane was referring to. It was one of the small, single table rooms. Taplow would like being closeted with his closest friends, hidden behind doors. It fit his nature.
“You must go carefully,” Spearing said, speaking by his shoulder. He was easily keeping abreast of Will, even though Will was moving fast. “Watch what you say, especially in front of others.”
“I’m not going to say anything,” Will ground out, climbing the wide stairs. “Unlike Taplow, the bastard, who is so free and easy with his claims.”
Spearing gripped his arm and yanked Will to a stop on the landing. Distantly, Will realized that Morgan and the others were right behind him, too. Spearing shook his arm to get his attention. “I know something about a temper that drives everything but the need for justice from a man’s mind,” he said quietly, as club members tsk’d and moved around the obstacle they were making on the landing.
Will glanced at Spearing’s red hair. He blew out his breath. “The bloody man is ruining her life,” he breathed.
Spearing nodded. “There are other ways to address the insult, besides public brawling or lawsuits. It can be handled quietly.”
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