The tables had been set up in the drawing room at Croston Hall, just as they had been on the bridge afternoon. But instead of tea, the men were drinking strong liquor and had their bulging purses sat upon the tables for all to see.
“I see you have been very lucky again, Cousin.” Algernon approached him with a smile of congratulation and woeful look which spoke volumes about the man’s own luck.
“And I can tell by your countenance that you have lost, Algernon. Ordinarily, you are a formidable player, especially when there is money involved.” Hunter laughed.
“Mock if you choose to, Cousin, for I fully intend to go back in and regain all that I have lost this evening.” Algernon took a deep breath and stood up a little taller.
“As you well know, Algernon, that is the worst thing to go back in and play for. Seeking to win back all you have lost will only make you reckless and determined, and that, in turn, will see that you lose even more money.”
“The problem I have is this, Hunter. The more I realize that you are speaking the truth, the more I realize how right you are, the more determined I am to play. It is a strange dichotomy, is it not? On the one hand, I know I shall lose and ought not to attempt the thing and yet, on the other, I know I shall not settle unless I play. Does that make any sense at all?”
“I am afraid so,” Hunter said and laughed.
“Anyway, I shall stand with you for a moment and perhaps have another couple of brandies before I settle down at a table again.”
“For heaven’s sake, your reasoning gets worse and worse.” Hunter laughed. “For what man’s reason is made clearer by brandy?”
“No man’s reason is made clearer by brandy.” Algernon laughed heartily. “But his senses are wonderfully dulled, and it is a most comforting feeling.”
“Then I would not seek to deny you your simple pleasures, Cousin. Your health,” Hunter said and held his glass up in front of him in a toast.
“I thank you.” Algernon held his up likewise, and the two men laughed again. “But enough of this talk of my failures; let us talk of your successes. Miss Fitzgerald seemed to do awfully well at the dreaded wedding, did she not?”
“Yes, she did manage very well,” Hunter said and felt somewhat dull.
“You do not seem convinced.”
“I am convinced that she did well, but I think she was greatly upset by it, however much she hid the thing.”
“Well, it would appear that your first assessment of the young lady was correct, and that she did, indeed, love Christopher Lennox. But surely that is not a matter which concerns you, given the fact that you would not be at all pleased to find yourself the object of Miss Fitzgerald’s genuine affections.”
“No, it does not concern me at all,” Hunter said in an offhand manner.
“And once again, you do not seem convinced,” Algernon said and grinned.
It was true that the brandy was beginning to take its toll on Hunter’s cousin. Algernon’s face had a high colour, and his eyes were a little glassy and full of mischief. However, although Algernon did not overindulge very often, he always made a most pleasant, amiable, even amusing, drunk.
“Fear not, I am quite convinced.” Hunter smiled.
However, he knew that he was not speaking the truth. As much as he had told Emmeline that there was no need for them to attend the wedding that she very likely feared, still he had wanted to go. Hunter had wanted to be there and see her reaction for himself, to gauge if she still had such a depth of feeling for the man she had once thought herself intended to marry.
Quite why he had wanted to see, he could hardly explain to himself. There was a part of him that wanted to be convinced that she had no love at all for the man who had betrayed her, no regard for him whatsoever. He knew, of course, that to see such regard or love in her on that day would have caused a little envy within him. But Hunter had not imagined for a moment that the envy would have almost consumed him. He had seen her look sadly at Christopher Lennox; he had witnessed a little something of the moment in which the two of them had locked eyes as the young man’s bride made her way down the aisle. And then he had seen her smile at him, and it was a most curious smile. He was not sure if it held warmth or not; he could hardly work it out, but it had unsettled him a good deal.
And after that, after witnessing that moment which had passed between Christopher Lennox and Emmeline Fitzgerald, he had seen, almost felt, her low spirits and her sadness. Hunter had asked her continually if she was well or if she wished to leave. She had assured him over and over that she was managing and, as the afternoon celebrations had continued, Emmeline had seemed to recover herself entirely, even seeming to enjoy being with her mother and sister. The whole thing had been most confusing for Hunter. He had wanted to know what she felt and why. And, at the same time, he knew he had no right to ask. Theirs was to be a marriage of convenience, and to seek intimate knowledge of the lady’s feelings would surely have turned everything on its head.
“I see that the dreadful Kent Fitzgerald has wormed his way into Croston Hall again,” Algernon said in a voice that was not quite as hushed as it ought to have been.
“Yes, he has got himself very well in with Giles Calloway. Curious, really, because Calloway seems like a very decent sort of a man.” Hunter spoke in almost a whisper, hoping to encourage his cousin to do the same.
“He looks over at you a good deal, Hunter. I cannot help wondering what his game is, for I am sure that he has one.”
“Yes, I had perceived much the same myself. I must admit, I do not like the man, and I was not at all pleased to see him here this evening when we arrived.”
“Well, poker is certainly not his game. He has lost every hand he has played this evening,” Algernon said, and Hunter laughed. “Yes, I realize that I too have lost every hand I have played this evening. But mine is simply an unlucky streak whereas I genuinely believe that Kent Fitzgerald’s poor performance is utter lack of skill.”
“And how on earth can you tell that?”
“I can tell it because of his manner.” Algernon looked over towards Kent Fitzgerald and back again. “He tries always to give an air of one who knows what he is doing, one who fits perfectly into the world he is trying, quite clearly, to infiltrate.”
“Yes, there is a certain inferiority about him which I think he seeks to cover. And I think that is why he clings so to Giles Calloway; he sees him as a man much easier to get to know, a man who has great means and is personable enough to shepherd Fitzgerald into society.”
“Then you have perceived much as I do, Cousin,” Algernon said and swigged back the last of his brandy. “I say, I think I am off to find another one of these,” he said, tapping the empty glass with a forefinger before turning to leave Hunter alone.
Hunter smiled as he watched his cousin depart, lumbering along, his mighty frame swaying a little under the influence of alcohol. Algernon Rochester was not only Hunter’s cousin but the closest of friends that Hunter could have hoped for in this world. And, as such, Hunter would see to it that the gentle giant would not sit down at the tables again that evening, however much he sought to regain his losses.
“Good evening, Lord Addison.” Hunter turned sharply to see none other than Kent Fitzgerald standing at his side.
“Good evening, Mr Fitzgerald,” Hunter said, trying to keep the tone of annoyance from his voice.
Kent Fitzgerald was a curious sort of a man. He was very plain, quite nondescript, and irritatingly obsequious in his manner.
He had an approach which was both insecure and pompous all at once; the approach of a man who was not comfortable with himself but sought, as Hunter had already decided, to cover up for it. He was both in awe and resentful at the same time, a condition which Hunter had often perceived within the middle classes.
“Have you had much luck at the tables this evening, My Lord?”
“I have been greatly lucky, although I cannot say the same for my dear cousin, I am afraid.” Hunter smiled, despi
te wishing to extricate himself from such dreadful company immediately.
He looked a little more closely at Kent Fitzgerald as he waited for him to speak. The man gave him a curious feeling of distrust. It was not that Hunter thought him powerful in any way, nor did he suspect he had the means by which to do Hunter any harm at all. But there was something in the dull brown eyes and plain expression which gave Hunter the idea that the man would likely be one of the most underhand people he could imagine.
Hunter had the strangest idea that a man like that, a plain man with little in his character to recommend him to anybody, could be somehow dangerous. Very dangerous indeed.
“I myself have been suffering from curiously poor luck this evening, Lord Addison. I have not been able to win a single hand from the moment I arrived here. So much so, in fact, that I have decided to turn to conversation, instead of poker, for my amusement.” And there it was again, that strange pomposity which overtook the man whenever his inferiority diminished for a moment.
“Well, I would say that it seems the most sensible position to take. One knows when one’s luck is not running in the right direction, and it is surely a very fine thing to decide to call a halt to it.” Hunter laughed a little uneasily.
“Yes, I suppose that is true of life also.”
“Indeed?” Hunter said, wondering why the man had chosen such a curious turn in the conversation.
“There is so much in life which one assumes is assured when it is not. I suppose it comes to us all at some stage when there is something we assume will happen in one way and yet, in the end, it happens in quite another altogether.”
Hunter could not begin to imagine what Kent Fitzgerald was talking about, but what he did know for certain was that the man spoke with purpose. He had some little idea which he wished to impress upon the Earl of Addison, without a doubt, and it was personal, whatever it was. For an awful moment, Hunter thought that the man was referring to his own failed engagement to Lady Felicity Morgan, or Felicity Barton as she now was. Was he really seeking to upend him by confronting him, albeit indirectly, with such a recent source of humiliation and regret? Surely not.
“I daresay that is true, but I must admit to being a little unsure of your meaning, Mr Fitzgerald,” Hunter said a little shortly.
“I suppose really I was thinking of my own circumstances, Lord Addison,” he began, and Hunter could see a curious delight in the man’s face.
It was almost as if he had managed to steer the conversation exactly as he would have wanted it and, furthermore, that he had managed to do just so without Hunter’s perception of it all. And yet, at the same time, Hunter felt the curious sensation that all was not well. Despite the fact that this man was claiming to be discussing his own circumstances, there was still something very personal about it all, something which Hunter felt absolutely certain pertained to him. There was something utterly pernicious about this man.
“Indeed?” Hunter said, not wanting to ask the man outright about his circumstances, not wanting to give him an inch.
“If I could perhaps provide an example,” he went on, the corners of his mouth twitching a little as if he could not quite decide upon a smile or a sneer. “As you are likely aware, Sir, I have lately had the good fortune to discover that I am soon to inherit Tarlton Manor.”
“Yes, I had heard something of it.” Hunter knew that his own voice was now far from friendly, but it did not seem to bother his companion. It was almost as if he expected it.
“And as pleased as I was, I did not particularly look forward to the idea of turning out my relations. Of course, there are those who would say that I need not turn out my relations, after all, being the master of the house, for I could do just as I pleased.” He paused for dramatic effect, clearly enjoying his description of himself as the master. “But of course, as I am sure you are perfectly well aware, such an inheritance comes with the responsibility of providing an heir for the future. A man looking towards marriage cannot possibly maintain his homeless relations. It is not expected, and I could not have supported such a thing.”
“Quite so,” Hunter said in the flattest tone imaginable.
“And then as if by providence, common sense steps in to seek to solve two problems at once.” He smiled, and Hunter gathered that the man was building up to his grand finale.
“Has it, indeed?”
“I suppose the problems are not entirely solved yet, for it would seem that I must await an answer before I can declare it to be so.”
“In truth, I am afraid that I do not understand.”
“The idea came to me that it would be a very simple thing for me to propose marriage to my second cousin. That solves the problem of my heir, not to mention the lady’s own problem of financial security. Of course, ladies being ladies, I am destined to wait.” He gave a short laugh and studied Hunter closely. It was clear that he was waiting for a reaction of sorts and Hunter, despite a supreme effort, felt sure that he had, with his countenance alone, provided just the reaction that the nondescript weasel of a man was waiting for. “I think they do like to keep us on a piece of string for a while, do they not?”
“Perhaps they do, Mr Fitzgerald.” Hunter gave a tight smile. “Now, if you would excuse me, I ought really to attend to my cousin.”
Without a word, Kent Fitzgerald bowed, his face telling his whole story. He realized that he had made a very palpable hit against a man who, up until a few moments before, had not even realized he was an enemy. Whilst Hunter had never felt particularly pleased in the man’s company, he felt sure that there had never been any particular animus between them.
And yet, animus there was. But perhaps it was aimed less at him and hinged more importantly upon the man’s own ambitions. It was clear that Kent Fitzgerald wanted Emmeline for his wife; it had been clear to Hunter since the afternoon of bridge in that very room.
However, it now seemed likely that Kent Fitzgerald had perceived Hunter as a threat, maybe even knew a little of the arrangement between him and Emmeline. But surely Emmeline could not support the idea of being married to such a creature. Whilst he was neither handsome nor ugly, as far as Hunter could see, there was something in his manner which made him repugnant. Surely a woman as clever and as well read as Emmeline Fitzgerald would have seen past the man’s plainness and right into his black heart.
And yet, despite all his reasoning, Hunter could find no relief. The idea of Emmeline choosing to marry another man looked set to upend him, to make him feel betrayed once more. But did he have a right to that betrayal? Did he have a right to such feelings when he had made his approaches in so bold and blunt a fashion? When he had been so very clear that he wanted to progress in life without another moment of the debilitating love and pain, had he not forgone such rights?
Worst of all was the realization that Hunter had not escaped life’s finer feelings, however much he had thought himself clever in his choice. He had picked a woman who, in spite of himself, he would have to fight extraordinarily hard against falling in love with.
Chapter 18
Emmeline could not help feeling nervous as she and her mother awaited Hunter Bentley’s carriage. He had agreed to stop on his way to the church and collect them for the funeral. Constance had decided against Rose, who at only fifteen had already attended one funeral too many, going with them. And Rose, for her part, had made no objections.
Of course, Rose had no particular sadness to nurse in the sudden passing of the Duke of Galcross. She had never been introduced to the man and, even if she had, they would never have been anything more than the faintest of acquaintances. The same was, of course, true for Emmeline and her mother, but their attendance was a matter of duty.
Hunter had arrived early, but the Fitzgerald women were ready anyway and immediately made their way out to the carriage when they heard it draw up outside Tarlton Manor.
“Are you quite alright, my dear?” her mother whispered as they made their way outside.
“Yes, I am perfe
ctly well,” Emmeline said, feeling anything but.
When the news had reached her that Christian Burton, the Duke of Galcross, had died suddenly of a heart attack, Emmeline’s world had been thrown into confusion. Whilst she did not mourn the Duke at all, she would have given anything that he had managed to remain alive in this world, if only for a while longer.
And throughout it all, a terrible guilt assailed her. Her first thought when she had heard the news had been a sudden, involuntary memory of the look on Felicity Burton’s face, the look of longing and regret at the ball at Croston Hall all those weeks before. Surely a woman who looked so very torn so shortly after she had married could not, in all honesty, ever have truly loved her husband. And what now of the Earl of Addison? What now of Hunter Bentley, what would he do?
Emmeline could not help nursing the awful, almost fatal idea that Hunter would abandon her as easily as Christopher Lennox had. Was she to once again be betrayed by a man? Betrayed by a man who had talked of marriage and then backed away?
Her mother had not mentioned the thing at all and had only vaguely proclaimed a little sadness at the death of a man who had only recently become married. Constance Fitzgerald had known enough not to approach the subject, realizing immediately that the words did not need to be said. It was clear that she knew her daughter well enough to know that Emmeline would have thought the whole thing through from its beginnings to its inevitable conclusion, and not once, but time and time again.
Hunter jumped down from the carriage immediately it had stopped in order to help the ladies inside. Emmeline had noted his troubled countenance the moment she looked at him and wondered what thoughts rolled around his mind. Had they been the same thoughts which had rolled around her own?
Emmeline studied him a little more closely than ordinarily, she might. She wanted to attempt to discern his look entirely. She wanted to know if she was looking at guilt, just as she had seen in Christopher Lennox’s eyes in the church. Emmeline wanted to know before time if she was about to be humiliated again although, in truth, it would not be quite so public a humiliation this time.
A Bride for the Betrayed Earl Page 13