by Amelia Grey
MISS HONORA TRUTH’S WEEKLY SCANDAL SHEET
Chapter 9
A gentleman should never discuss his wooing of the perfect lady with his friends.
A PROPER GENTLEMAN’S GUIDE TO WOOING THE PERFECT LADY
SIR VINCENT TYBALT VALENTINE
White’s.
There were other gentlemen’s clubs in London. Some less important, others more exclusive—such as the Heirs’ Club, which allowed only titled gentlemen—but there were none more revered or celebrated than the club that was established over one hundred years ago for the elite of Society. The stone building in St. James wasn’t excessively grand inside or out, though the address alone would make it notable. The lighting was dim, the ceilings low, and the rooms small. Most of the chairs were uncomfortable for a man the size of Hawk, who stood well over six feet tall. It was the membership and the infamous wager book that made White’s the most prestigious and most talked-about club in all of England.
White’s was the first place Hawk always wanted to go when he returned to London. The taproom, billiard tables, and reading room were always busy with members. No matter the time of day or night he frequented the place, he could always rely on someone being there to catch him up on the latest news if Rath, the Duke of Rathburne, or Griffin, the Duke of Griffin, were out of Town.
However, they were not today.
They were sitting across the table from him in the taproom. Studying him.
And with good reason.
He’d just told them the same thing he’d told Adele yesterday. He had no answer from Mr. Quick about marrying her.
Amid the low hum of masculine chatter, the rattle of glasses knocking together, and the thunk of tankards hitting wood tables, he looked at them, too. The friends he’d known since they were boys. They were tall, broad-shouldered, and British aristocracy through and through—though Rath hardly looked his heritage. His dark eyes and recently trimmed, shorter-than-usual dark hair made him look more European or Greek than true-blood British.
Hawk and Griffin had entered Eton at the same time and quickly formed a bond. Rath had come a year later and was welcomed by them a year after that, when he’d shared a bottle of his father’s best port that he’d sneaked into the school hidden in a false bottom in his satchel. Over the next few years, their friendships had withstood rivalries in grades as well as shooting, archery, fencing, and other games of sport. No matter what they were doing, each of them wanted to best the other two.
They weren’t all dukes when they met, but they were all exceptionally intelligent and overly reckless. Hellions who grew up to become rakes—of the highest order, most people would say. After Oxford, they turned to sharpening their skills in gambling, horse racing, women, and, most infamously, wagers.
Though Griffin shouldn’t bear the status of rake anymore, Hawk and Rath had recently decided. He’d married last year and now spent more time with his beautiful bride than with the two of them at the gentlemen’s clubs, gaming hells, and private parties that were havens of pleasure for raucous young men.
“Does Mr. Quick want more incentive?” Griffin asked as the server put three pewter tankards of ale on the table in front of them.
“Blunt or property?” Rath asked, casually leaning his chair back on two legs.
“Neither, right now,” Hawk answered as the pungent scent of the dark ale drifted up to him. “I didn’t get the opportunity to talk to him. He wasn’t there.”
“All that way and the man was gone?” Griffin questioned.
Rath blew out a breath. “How did that happen? I thought he knew you were coming. What a waste of time.”
No, Hawk thought. It wasn’t a waste of time. Meeting Miss Quick, talking with her, holding her in his arms, and kissing her soft lips made the half-day walk in the freezing rain worth every step.
“He’d been gone more than a fortnight and hadn’t received the letter that I was coming for a visit.”
“I haven’t seen him in London while you’ve been away,” Griffin said and turned to Rath. “Have you?”
Rath shook his head. “Where was the fellow?”
“I never found out. His sister didn’t seem to know where he’d gone.” Or if she did, she wasn’t going to tell Hawk. “Not that I would have hunted him down, but it would have been good to know exactly when he was expected to return.”
“Sister?” Griffin asked and cut his eyes around to Rath, who then quickly looked at Hawk.
“Yes, that’s right,” Rath said. “I remember now. The man does have a sister. I thought she went into a convent.” He turned to Griffin. “Maybe I’m wrong?”
“No,” Griffin replied. “That was the rumor I heard—what was it … two or three years ago now. She was to marry Viscount Denningcourt. I believe they were at the church about to say vows when she decided she couldn’t go through with the wedding. I don’t remember the precise wording, but she told her uncle she’d rather be a nun taking care of the poor than be a wife to the viscount.”
It wouldn’t surprise Hawk if she’d said exactly that. If she were quite comfortable speaking her mind to a duke, she certainly wouldn’t cower before the viscount or the earl.
Rath took a drink of his ale before adding, “I remember someone saying her uncle was so furious, they thought the old man’s heart might fail him right there in the church. It’s no wonder he agreed she could enter a convent.”
She wasn’t in one, but she might as well be for all the social life she had at Mammoth House, Hawk thought as he stayed quiet and listened to his friends discuss what they remembered concerning Miss Quick. He wanted to know what they’d heard. It appeared the rumors varied only a little from what Miss Quick had told him, but obviously Society had a different view of her than Hawk had. The lady he’d met was outspoken but not rude. Strong, but not hard. She was soft but not weak. And much to his chagrin, it looked as if Hawk was going to have to set his friends straight concerning where she lived.
“Take my word for it she’s not in a convent, nor does she look or talk anything like the nuns I’ve seen. She lives at Mammoth House with her brother—whenever he is there. Which obviously isn’t often. She’s beautiful, forthright, and compassionate.”
Rath let his chair down slowly and picked up his drink again. Griffin’s brows rose just enough to let Hawk know he’d said all he needed to say to interest them in hearing more.
“You’re right,” Rath offered. “She is beautiful. I remember meeting her once at a ball.”
“Really?” Hawk asked.
“She was already betrothed to the viscount at that time so, naturally, I didn’t say much to her. I remember thinking later, when the rumor about her was the talk of the clubs, that it was a shame such a beautiful young lady was going into a convent.”
“We know about her past, so tell us something about her now that we don’t know,” Griffin prodded.
Hawk hadn’t intended to mention Miss Quick. He knew his friends well enough to know they’d ask more questions than he wanted to answer.
And he was right.
Hawk looked from one friend to the other. They would not be satisfied until he gave them what they wanted. Choosing his words carefully, he said, “Miss Quick intends to try her best to keep her brother from accepting my offer of a match with Adele.”
Rath grabbed the lapels of his dark-blue coat and straightened it on his shoulders as he sat up a little taller in the chair. “So she’s not just against marriage for herself, she’s against it for her brother, too, and probably everyone else would be my guess. And you say she’s not in a convent?”
“And she doesn’t believe in marriage,” Griffin added as he looked from Hawk to Rath. “Hmm. I believe I hear a challenge in that statement. What do you hear?”
“A challenge,” Rath said with a grin. “Even if a lady says she isn’t interested in marriage, you can bet she is. Unless she is a nun.”
Hawk chuckled under his breath. “Have as much enjoyment at my expense as you wish, my fellow
rakes. I won’t fall into the trap you are setting.” Hawk waited for a couple of gentlemen to walk past them and then added, “It’s clear she is against arranged marriages. And the reason is because hers didn’t turn out well. We all know, they aren’t common anymore—not in the strictest sense. I’ll know more once I actually talk to Quick. How he handles himself concerning this will have a lot to do with how I proceed from here. Now,” Hawk said, eager to change the subject from Miss Quick. “Has there been talk recently about anyone wanting to get even with us for the letters we wrote?”
“The indomitable Miss Honora Truth had another mention of it in her column just today,” Griffin complained. “Apparently she’s not finished with the story yet. She mentioned that Vera was returning for her second Season and then hinted that both Vera and Lady Adele could be at risk from unscrupulous men wanting to break their hearts, ruin their reputations, or just cause us grief by making us worry about the possibility of it.”
“Damnation,” Hawk grumbled. “I wish we could find out who she is. Perhaps I should give it another try and stop her drivel.”
“It would do no good,” Griffin offered dryly. “I don’t think the King and the Prince are as well guarded as that person’s identity.”
“It’s my thought,” Rath said, “that whoever knows who she is will take it to their grave. I’ve heard her scandal sheet sells more than all the others combined.”
Hawk grunted. “I just hope that whoever it is, they don’t get wind of the fact I’m trying to make a match for Adele before the Season starts.”
“You know they won’t hear anything about it from us,” Griffin said, “but do you know if Miss Quick or her brother will say anything?”
“I can’t be sure, but she agreed not to mention our conversation to anyone but her brother.” Not wanting to give them time to turn the conversation back to Miss Quick, Hawk faced Griffin and asked, “Have you considered asking Lady Vera if she’d like your help in finding a husband? It would take her off the marriage mart and thwart any possibility of mischief-makers eying her.”
Griffin grunted and then laughed. “If only I could. She is not as docile as Lady Adele. Vera is so contrary she would never agree to any help from me. No, I will have to leave all matchmaking to her. I’m just happy Sara is married and that half of my responsibility concerning them is now finished.”
“If only Adele were more contrary,” Hawk mumbled with a sighing breath. “She was spoiled to the point of madness by our parents and has been pampered far too long by me, our cousin, and the servants. She wants me to handle everything for her. I swear she’d let me decide which dress she is to wear each day if I’d do it for her. She has no desire to make any decisions or to think for herself. All she wants is for someone to take care of her every need and want. So I find myself trying to find her a husband who will do that without taking advantage of her gentle nature and wealth as well.”
“I am glad I don’t have sister woes,” Rath said and then wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “But both of you know I’ll do everything I can to help see that Lady Vera and Lady Adele come to no harm from anyone seeking revenge against us. Short of marrying either of them, you understand. Not that they aren’t both beautiful, desirable, and all the rest, but they are deserving of someone far better than I am.”
“I don’t think either of us would wish our sisters on you or you on them,” Hawk said with a bit of a grumbling tone to his voice.
“I thought Lady Sara and Lady Vera handled the Season well last year,” Griffin commented. “The only problem was the incident with Lord Henry, and we know how that turned out.”
Rath snorted a short laugh. “I never heard any rumors about him getting struck with the sharp end of a lady’s parasol one day and her brother’s strong fist the next.”
Hawk and Griffin chuckled, too.
“I suppose he didn’t want that rumor making the rounds at the dinner parties, clubs and scandal sheets,” Rath continued, humor edging his voice. “He either left London or hid out at his town house until his face healed.”
Griffin drummed his fingers on the table a time or two and then said, “But as for whether or not there are other bachelors wanting to get even with us because of the secret admirer letters we sent to the young ladies, only time will tell.”
“And speaking of tell,” Rath said, with an I’m-not-going-to-let-this-subject-drop gleam in his eyes, “I’m wanting you to tell us more about Mr. Quick’s sister. I find her story quite intriguing.”
Hawk picked up his tankard again. Over all the sounds in the taproom, he heard billiard balls knocking together as the players took their shots. It didn’t surprise him that Rath didn’t want to leave the subject alone. He had always been too perceptive for his own good. And he didn’t mind stirring up trouble—indeed he relished it.
Even among friends.
“There’s nothing more to tell. I didn’t spend a lot of time with her,” he said and didn’t consider it a lie. It was the best way to protect her reputation. And he could have easily spent much more time with her than he had. If she’d agreed.
“Will she come to London with Quick when he comes to see you?” Griffin asked.
“I told her I’d be going back to Mammoth House and to have her brother wait there until I returned.”
Rath and Griffin gave each other a knowing look.
Hawk knew he wasn’t fooling them. They knew that meant Hawk wanted to see her again, and they were right, but it didn’t mean he was going to tell them more than he wanted them to know.
It was true that he couldn’t remember an evening that he was as comfortable as he had been with Miss Quick. There had been plenty of nights with young ladies and women that he’d enjoyed. Some that he’d detested, and some he’d simply tolerated. But sitting alone with her, eating, talking, drinking, even sharing their pasts, he couldn’t remember a time he’d felt so contented—it was a strange feeling, one he hadn’t had before to that depth. It was as if the two of them belonged together, arguing their differing points and looking into each other’s eyes, trying to understand as much from the other’s expressions as their words.
“Back to Mammoth House, you say,” Rath teased. “Perhaps we should go with you. What do you say, Griffin?”
“That he doesn’t need both of us to hold his hand. I don’t think Esmeralda will want me gone for a couple of days.”
Rath grinned. “I think it’s that you don’t want to leave her.”
Griffin shrugged good-naturedly and sat back in his chair. “Let me think about this. Two days riding in a cold carriage or staying at home with my beautiful wife?” He gave them a satisfied grin. “No, I don’t even need to think about it. I’m quite content to say I’d rather stay with Esmeralda. But I do think you should go, Rath, and help Hawk persuade Mr. Quick to accept his generous proposal.”
Hawk grimaced. “I can handle this quite well without help from either of you.”
“Always willing to do what I can,” Rath said.
“That was never in doubt. And contrary to what you’re thinking, I have another reason for wanting to return to Mammoth House.”
That caught their attention.
“What?” Griffin asked.
“The night I was there, a winter storm blew in. A young beggar came to her door. He was wet, cold, and quite ill. He fainted before we could find out who he was. Miss Quick had to take him in. There was something about the lad that bothered me. I don’t think he was just a poor farmer’s boy who had gotten lost. The truth is, he was so sick I don’t know whether the lad made it, but if he did, I want to get him, and take him back to wherever he belongs.”
A low chuckle rumbled in Rath’s chest.
“Damnation, Rath,” Hawk muttered. “What about what I just told you is so amusing?”
“You, a beautiful young lady, a storm, and a sick beggar at the young lady’s door. It sounds like a book. How long did it take you to come up with that story?”
“And I just
have one question,” Griffin added with an amused smirk. “Why in the devil were you at Miss Quick’s house at night? And her brother not home?”
Griffin and Rath had a good laugh. Hawk took their teasing in stride. He was partly to blame for even mentioning the boy.
“You are both blackguards. I should have never said a word to you about her, the beggar, or anything else.”
“But you did,” Griffin reminded him in a lighthearted tone. “And now that you have, you can’t tell us only half the story. If you do, we will fill in the rest with our own imaginations. I don’t think you want that.”
Hawk grumbled for a moment and then, having no fear his friends would divulge what happened to anyone, he told them almost everything, starting with the lame horse and how he ended up having dinner with Miss Quick and staying the night in her home.
He conveniently omitted the part about the kisses, but by the expressions on Griffin’s and Rath’s faces, he didn’t have to tell them. They knew.
“So I want to go back and see if the boy is still there. If he is, and he has no home to go to, as I suspect, it’s my plan to bring him back to London with me. He may be just a common ragamuffin scrounging for food, or he could be a pickpocket or a footpad. I don’t know. And I don’t know how he managed to get as far out as Mammoth House, but I don’t want him taking advantage of anyone there.”
Especially Miss Quick.
Rath and Griffin’s laughter died away, and Rath sounded more serious when he asked, “What will you do if you bring him back to London? Put him in an orphanage?”
“I don’t know. He’s probably be too old for that kind of home. He may have lived on his own too long for that to be something that would work for him anyway. If he turns out to be a decent lad, I’ll try to settle him with a family on one of my estates or help him learn a trade here in Town. All I know right now is that when I tried to help him, he had the mouth of a guttersnipe.”