by Jane Charles
Audrey glanced to the doorway and noted Trent returning with Lady Rothsbury on his arm. It shouldn’t surprise her that Trent had chosen a private moment with Lady Rothsbury. The woman was a widow, as well as young, and beautiful. Audrey was actually surprised to see them return so soon given his reputation.
“Perhaps he would stroll in the gardens with me,” Millicent sighed.
“What are you thinking,” Audrey hissed and turned to her friend. “Hasn’t Trent caused you enough trouble?”
Millicent offered an impish grin. “It doesn’t matter.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind if he wished to revisit a past occurrence.”
“You are a married woman,” Audrey insisted in a low tone. What madness had possessed Millicent?
“Which gives me much more freedom,” Millicent grinned and pulled away. “When Lydell returns, please offer him my apologies.”
“What am I to say?” Audrey demanded, unable to believe her friend was thinking of making an assignation with the very man who had ruined her.
“I don’t care.” Millicent laughed. “Invent a plausible story.”
With that Millicent was gone, gliding across the ballroom, straight for Mr. Jordan Trent who had just bowed and turned from Lady Rothsbury.
“Where is my wife off to?” Lydell asked a moment later as he presented a cup of punch to Audrey.
It wasn’t in her to lie and Audrey desperately tried to find a proper excuse as she accepted the beverage.
Lydell glanced across the room and sighed. “There is no need to think of an excuse. I am well aware of where my wife went and what she is up to.”
Jordan stepped through the doors of Dagger’s Haven, a gaming hell, and paused to let his eyes adjust. It wasn’t the shock of coming in from the pitch-black night to a lit room, but the heavy smoke that hung in the air like a blanket. His eyes watered and Jordan blinked a few times before moving further into the establishment. He nodded to several acquaintances and waved away their gestures for him to join them. There was only one thing he was interested in and that was locating Creighton. Jordan spotted the shock of red hair at a back table and he made his way in that direction. He arrived in time to see Creighton lose.
A footman placed a glass of amber liquid at Creighton’s elbow and removed the empty one.
“You are tapped out, Lord Creighton,” the dealer announced.
Creighton started patting his pockets as if looking for more funds. A moment later he withdrew his purse and opened it. Jordan glanced over his shoulder and frowned. It was empty.
“Credit,” Creighton slurred. “I know I’m about to win.”
Jordan placed a hand on Creighton’s shoulder. “I think you have had enough to drink.” He moved the glass out of the way. “And lost more than you are likely to recoup.”
Creighton turned and stared up at him. The man’s eyes were so bloodshot barely any white showed. He had aged since Jordan had seen him last fall. Creighton was only thirty-five but the lines and sallow complexion of his skin made him look closer to sixty.
“Let’s go.” Jordan pulled on the man’s arm.
“Perhaps if you had something to offer as collateral,” Sebastian Stanwick suggested. Jordan hadn’t seen Dagger in months. The nickname came about in school because of the knife Stanwick always kept in his boot and didn’t hesitate to flourish about when threatened or when threatening. Stanwick was elegantly dressed in black evening attire and owner of this particular establishment. They had been close friends once, until Stanwick left school to make his fortune and shun society.
“He has no collateral,” Jordan informed Stanwick.
Creighton blinked up at him. “But I do. There is the land in … . in… .” he frowned. “I can’t ‘member, but it is not ‘tailed.”
Jordan breathed a heavy sigh. “Even if it is not entailed, it belongs to your nephew and not you.”
“Bah,” the man dismissed with a wave of his hand. “What does that whelp need with land? He is barely off leading strings.”
“It is his inheritance,” Jordan bit out and grasped the man’s arm tighter. He was not going to leave without Creighton.
Stanwick moved to block Jordan’s path. Jordan glanced about the establishment weighing his options and odds. He didn’t want to strike Stanwick, though they had fought in the past, but what of the others guarding the patrons and the owner. Could he take them all? Were enough men so deep in their cups that they would gladly join in the fray or slink away from any disturbance? On the other hand, Jordan was itching for a fight. Perhaps it would relieve some of the frustration building because of Miss Montgomery.
Jordan looked Stanwick in the eyes so he understood. “Mr. Creighton has no funds of his own. He is the guardian and trustee of Lord Rothsbury’s estate. The lord is only a child and I am here to ensure no more of his funds are gambled away.”
Stanwick stiffened and glared at Creighton. “You’re gambling with a child’s inheritance?”
“He don’t need it,” Creighton argued. “I’ll win it back.”
The owner took a step back, hands balled into fists. Apparently Stanwick was in the mood for a fight as well. It just wouldn’t be Jordan receiving the brunt of his fists.
“I hadn’t realized,” Stanwick’s face held nothing but disgust for Creighton. “I’ll see that he is barred from admittance.”
“Thank you.” Jordan nodded and pulled Creighton toward the door. He stopped beside one of the burly men guarding the entrance. “Watch him for a moment and have his carriage brought around.”
Jordan walked back to Stanwick. “Do you know the names of the other establishments Creighton might frequent?”
The man nodded. “I don’t mind taking from foolish young lords with nothing better to do, but I will not be party to a child losing his future.”
He studied Stanwick who was glaring at Creighton.
“My father gambled away everything.”
“I remember,” Jordan said quietly. They had just begun their first term at Oxford when the news was received. Though Sebastian was able to stay in school because his uncle, an earl, paid the fees, others looked down on the young man because his father eventually drank himself to death after bankrupting his family with gambling debts. They remained friends and often landed in trouble together, until Stanwick up and disappeared one day.
“I know where he frequents and will send word to the others. Whether they allow him to continue is up to them, but he won’t be allowed back in here.”
“Lady Rothsbury will appreciate your assistance.”
Stanwick looked back at Jordan with some restored humor. “I understand you are not the debauched soul society has painted you.”
Jordan arched an eyebrow. What did Stanwick know about his life? Surely the gentlemen gambling away their lives would have better subjects to gossip about.
“If you were, you would be here, like all the others.”
Jordan grinned. “I learned a long time ago never to gamble against you.”
Stanwick threw back his head and laughed.
It was Stanwick who taught Jordan the rules of Hazard, Whist, Pique and any number of games in their dormitory, but Jordan was never able to beat him. Sometimes he believed Stanwick survived on his winnings from the other students and it set him on the path to opening this gaming hell.
“I am in need of a solicitor,” Stanwick said a moment later. “I don’t trust many men, especially gentlemen.” He clapped a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “I trust you.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you be interested?”
“Of course. I will call on you in a few days.”
“Good.” Stanwick nodded to the door. “You had better get Creighton out of here before I decide to take him out back and do bodily harm to the man.”
Jordan relieved the footman of Creighton and escorted him out to the carriage. He had found Creighton at the third such establishment he visited and was glad he didn’t have to find another hackney to travel t
o a fourth destination.
Creighton fell into the corner of the seat. He reeked of cigars and brandy.
“You will return to the country tomorrow.”
The man leaned forward and almost fell out of his seat. “What?”
“You are going to your estate and you will not return to London.”
“Who are you to …?”
“I am the man who has been hired to keep you from ruining your nephew’s life.”
“That witch sent you, didn’t she?”
Jordan lifted an eyebrow. Lady Rothsbury was many things, but never a witch.
Creighton groaned and grabbed the side of the carriage. Jordan knew the look too well and slid to the far side and lifted his feet out of the way right before Creighton cast up his accounts all over the front of himself. Jordan turned his head away and tried to breathe through his mouth, sympathizing for the poor servant who would have to clean up this mess.
Upon arriving at Creighton’s townhouse, Jordan jumped to the pavement and breathed in a deep gulp of fresh air. Creighton was passed out and Jordan left it to the footman to get the man in the house and up to his room. Though they offered to deliver him home, Jordan declined. He was not stepping back into that carriage.
The sun would rise shortly and he turned to walk toward home which took him past Lady Rothsbury’s. He glanced up to note lights in half of the windows. Was she awake this early? He paused and wondered if he should tell her now or call at a more respectable time. Movement by the window of what he knew was the library caught his attention. It was a woman, but was she alone? As far as Jordan knew nobody else resided with her besides servants and he didn’t think Lady Rothsbury had taken another lover. Even if she had, he doubted they would be spending their time in a lit library at this time of night, or morning to be more accurate.
Given part of the household was awake as there were lights on every floor; he decided to take his chances and call on her now. It would save him a trip of having to visit her later.
He took the two steps up to the door and knocked. It was opened a moment later by a tired butler, though he was fully dressed to receive callers.
“Might Lady Rothsbury be awake?”
“Who is calling?”
“Mr. Jordan Trent.”
A woman with greying hair pulled neatly behind her head pushed the butler out of the way. “Ah, please come in.”
He hadn’t expected to be granted access so easily. “She will be glad you’ve come. Worrying herself sick over that lousy brother-in-law of hers.” The woman kept talking as she led Jordan up a set of stairs. “She barely sleeps and hardly eats.”
Jordan would have never guessed given her composure this evening. Then again, she had been at a ball and one never showed any weakness or worry of any kind in front of the ton unless you wished for them to be gossiping and speculating about you the next day.
“Mr. Jordan Trent has come to call.” The housekeeper began to announce then stopped in the doorway. “Oh dear, shall I have him wait in another room? I didn’t realize you were not presentable.”
“Oh, I don’t care about that. If he has news I want to see him now.”
The housekeeper blushed and Jordan wondered what Lady Rothsbury was wearing.
“Very well, my lady.” The housekeeper stepped aside to allow Jordan entrance. “I’ll have tea and biscuits sent up.”
Jordan entered the room and stopped. Lady Rothsbury was standing before the fire. Her russet hair flowed down her back and she was dressed for bed. Not in a sensible, warm gown, but in practically transparent silk. Even the wrapper she wore over the gown did little to hide the full breasts, and dark nipples straining against the material, nor did it mask the hint of curls at the junction of her thighs. Was she expecting a lover or had the man recently left?
Lady Rothsbury was a beautiful woman who also possessed a very desirable body. He was growing hard just looking at her and that would never do. She was his client now and not his lover any longer.
“Please, come in.” She gestured into the room. “Could I get you a brandy? I am sure you would prefer that over tea.”
The last thing he needed was alcohol. “Tea will be fine, thank you.”
“Did you find Creighton?” She asked anxiously.
“Yes and he has been delivered home.”
“But that is only for one night.” She sighed and sank down onto the settee.
Jordan took a place beside her and explained what had occurred earlier.
“Do you think he will really return to the country?”
“I will see that he does.”
“I wonder how much he has lost. Is there anything left?”
“I will also look into that for you tomorrow.”
She turned and glanced up at him, her emerald eyes bright with worry. “But what is to stop him from doing this again and again until there is nothing left?” She grabbed Jordan’s hand.
“I am going to see what can be done about changing the guardian.” He wished to pull his hand back but she was clinging to it as if it was all she had to hold onto. “Is there someone else who would manage the estate responsibly?”
“My brother.”
Jordan nodded. “Why hasn’t your brother tried to take control?”
“He tried but he doesn’t have the same connections as Creighton. Our background is humbling and supposedly a lord is more suited as a guardian.”
“Even though your brother is well on his way to establishing an import and export empire?”
A smile graced her lips.
“Jonathan Bridges is well thought of and respected. I will see what I can do.”
“Oh thank you.” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.
Jordan was too shocked at first to do anything. A moment later he pulled away.
Her hands slid down his chest and she licked her lips. “I would like to show you my appreciation for what you have done.”
Not long ago Jordan would have needed no further encouragement and would have had her out of that sheer gown and pushing her back against the cushions in a matter of moments. But, he was no longer the same man. He wanted more in his relationships. While an occasional tumble was physically gratifying, it wasn’t fulfilling. His body ached to take her but his mind had a stronger will. “That is not necessary.” How does one politely get out of these situations without hurting the woman’s feelings?
“It’s been a year.” She blinked up at him.
Had she been celibate the entire time? He had, but he hadn’t expected Lady Rothsbury to remain without companionship.
“I’ve missed what we shared,” she continued as her hands slid down his belly until one rested on his hard member. “You are not uninterested.”
“My desire is not in question.” He picked up her hand and removed it from his person. “I won’t engage in intimacies with clients.”
She frowned. “If I weren’t your client?”
“But you are.” He stood. He didn’t want to tell her that he still would not take what she was offering. It was too difficult to explain when he didn’t quite understand himself. Though he longed to bury himself deep within a woman, Jordan would not allow himself even a moment of pleasure. He was going to become a respectable solicitor and gentleman, if it killed him. Which it just might.
Lady Rothsbury sighed and followed him to the door. “If you change your mind…”
“Trust me, I won’t forget,” he promised with a wink.
Audrey glanced towards the window and pushed the covers to the side. At least the sun was now up. She had been awake long before it graced the horizon, after tossing, turning and only dozing most of the night. Why did she let Trent affect her? Why had she allowed him to take her outside and then kiss her when she knew better than to be associated with that cad? She should have just put him from her mind but she kept replaying the night before. After she had left him he had gone off with that widow and then ignored Millicent when she approached, and walked past her
and out into the foyer. When her friend turned to look at her, Audrey’s heart constricted with pain. Not so much because Millicent had been rejected by her one time lover, but for Lydell who must have been hurt by the crestfallen look on his wife’s face.
Didn’t Millicent know it was unwise, even scandalous, to chase after a man when one’s husband was standing in the very same ballroom?
At least Trent hadn’t shown an interest in her friend. That would have certainly been bad ton but he practically gave her the cut direct. She could just imagine how Millicent felt given how intimate the two had been at one time. Regardless, her friend should put that dreadful Trent from her mind and concentrate on her husband and be thankful for her good fortune and Audrey was going to tell her friend exactly that, as soon as it was late enough to make a call.
Audrey wandered to her window, which overlooked the square, and glanced up at the clear sky. Unfortunately, her visit would be hours from now for it was much too early to venture out. Wheels churned on the cobbled streets below. There were only a few people who were out and about. They were mostly servants on their way to the market. The door across the square opened and she strained to see who was leaving Lady Rothsbury’s home so early. They used the front door so it could not have been a servant.
Audrey’s breath hitched when she recognized Jordan Trent. No wonder he hadn’t given Millicent any attention last night. He had made plans to be with Lady Rothsbury later, which apparently lasted all through the night.
It wasn’t worth her time to watch Jordan Trent, or give him any further thought, yet she couldn’t bring herself to turn away from the window. Once she shared with Millicent what she witnessed this morning, perhaps her friend would put the scoundrel from her mind and concentrate on her husband.
Trent crossed the square and paused as he came close to Audrey’s home. She leaned closer to the window, angry at herself for not pulling away and dismissing him. But how could she when he looked so fine in the morning despite the fact that he was still wearing his evening clothes. But, what would she expect. It wasn’t as if he would take an extra set of clothing to Lady Rothsbury’s. Or she assumed gentlemen didn’t think to plan so far ahead.