The Earl's Night of Being Wild (The Fallen Angels NOVELLA series Book 3)

by Julianna Hughes

  Five minutes later her musings ended as they walked through the front door of Brooks. She hadn't responded to his last quip. They both knew who had started nearly all of their childhood adventures. So, there wasn't any point in belaboring the point. Especially since she was still getting him into trouble with one of her infamous plans.

  Mary whispered to him once they passed the doorman, "We'll just get a drink, wander around as if we are looking for a game, and check the cardrooms for him. And if he is not here, then we’ll be on our way."

  "Sounds like a plan," he whispered back, then added. "You seemed to be very familiar with the club. I take it this is not your first time here."

  Mary just smiled up at him. No, it wasn’t her first time at Brooks. For the last year she had been a regular visitor to both Brooks and Whites. Always as a guest of one of the members. But frequently enough to become well known to most of the staff and other members.

  "Mr. Johnson," a young nobleman called out from the reading area, "it is good to see you again."

  "And you, Lord Haterman. Are you down for the season?" Mary asked.

  "Unfortunately, don't you know, my mother insisted. She wants me legs shackled. And there was nothing I could do to dissuade her of the notion. So here I am, hiding from the debutantes and their marriage minded mamas."

  Mary laughed good naturedly at the man and then steered Rodney in the opposite direction. "No," she hissed under her breath, "it is not my first time in Brooks. So, do be quiet before you get us both thrown out of here."

  "Just what the night needs," he replied dryly.

  Mary glanced up and caught his disgruntled look a moment before he concealed it. Her heart went out to him. He’d had a rather rough night of it so far. But with any luck the rest of the night would be better. And then she could figure out what this growing attraction between them meant.

  * * *

  It took only fifteen minutes for them to walk through Brooks. Only three of the rooms were occupied. And only one game of cards was in progress. So, they finished their drinks and were headed toward the front door. Unfortunately, they didn't quite reach it before disaster struck once more.

  A trio of young bucks stumbled through the front door before Mary and Rodney could reach it. They were obviously heavily intoxicated and in a boisterous and rowdy mood. One of the men stumbled as they crossed the threshold of the club. He fell into his friend who gave him a none-too-gentle shove, which sent him reeling into Rodney. Thankfully he was much shorter and lighter than Rodney so he caused no harm.

  At least until his friend looked up and saw whom he had shoved his friend into. "Well, lookee here, Franklin. Do you see who just ran into you?"

  The man staggered back and glared up at Rodney with bloodshot eyes. He squinted and peered intently up for several seconds without saying a word.

  The helpful man hiccupped once and then clarified for his friend. "It's the Earl of Hamstone. The fellow that was seen running off with your intended."

  Mary wanted to groan. She knew what was coming, as it had happened all too often over the last year. A young lord, fresh out of university, would attend one of her performances, then decide he had to have her as his mistress, and occasionally as his bride.

  These men-or men like them-were what had prompted Mr. Martin into hiring constables to watch out for the women when they left the theatre at night. One of the things she was not going to miss in her new quieter, more sedate life as a country widow.

  She turned toward Rodney and saw a look of betrayal on his face. A knot tightened in her chest and stomach. Without taking her eyes off Rodney she disputed the man's claim.

  "Sir, I am a personal friend of Signorina Sigona and spoke to her no more than five hours ago. And I can assure you, she is not engaged to you, or anyone else at this time."

  "They aren't engaged yet," the third man put in. At least that's what Mary thought he said as his words were badly slurred.

  "Beside the point," the first drunk put in and waved his arms wildly about. "He was going to propose and she would have accepted him. After all, he is going to be the Duke one day. What woman wouldn't want to be his duchee?"

  The lines around Rodney's mouth eased and his smile returned. Mary could also see a spark of the mischievousness that she had seen in their youth twinkling in his eyes and knew that he believed her. Which, for reasons she didn't want to examine right then, was very important.

  He turned back toward the men, and said in a bored voice, "Signorina Sigona is an old family friend of mine as well, gentlemen. And you are quite correct, she and I left the theatre together and enjoyed a nice repast, and she said nothing about an engagement to me. Or one that was immediately forthcoming."

  "You scoundrel. You degenerate reprobate. How dare you besmirch the honor of Miss. Sigona," the drunk named Franklin screeched. With each word Mary felt her insides clenched. They were fighting words and everyone in the club knew it and heard the insults.

  The man jerked away from his friend and swayed towards Rodney as he tore his glove off. Rodney straightened to his full height but made no attempt to avoid the blow. The slap echoed off the walls and vanished amongst a dozen or more gasps of disbelief from behind them.

  In a superior and haughty tone, Rodney addressed the soberest of the men. "Gentlemen, I strongly suggest you take your friend off and sober him up. Because I have just spent the last eight years of my life fighting Boney and his forces. And I can assure you that I am extremely proficient with both a saber and a pistol. So if I do not receive an apology by morning then my second," he nodded toward Mary, "will contact. . ." He glanced at the man on the right for his opponent's name.

  "Lord Seetin," the man supplied.

  Rodney nodded his head. "Then Mr. Johnson will meet Lord Seetin's second to set a dawn appointment in Hyde Park this morning. Is that understood?"

  Oh, bloody hell. What had she gotten Rodney into this time?

  Chapter 10

  2:00 AM

  Rodney wasn't sure he was elated or devastated when they finally found their quarry. Fortunately, it was their next stop; Dante's Hell. He pulled out his watch and checked the time. It had taken them six hours to find Binsby. But there he sat. Deep in a game of cards. And from the looks of the other men, they were four rather foolish young noblemen and one older one. At least that is what he figured judging by the despondent looks of the other men in the game and the smirk on Binsby's. That and the pile of blunt in front of his enemy.

  "Good," Mary whispered as they approached the table, "he's winning."

  Rodney slowed to a crawl and whispered back, "Why is that a good thing?"

  "He'll be in a good mood and primed to play deep," she replied in the same soft voice.

  "And that's what we want?" he asked.

  She glanced over at him and he shivered from the predatory look she gave him. "Most definitely."

  Another tremor blew through him. A myriad of horrible scenarios racked his brain as he watched Mary stride off toward the table. Rodney didn't doubt her abilities. He never had. But the last time he had seen her card playing skills she'd been an eighteen-year-old young woman. And the players were all known to them and relatively harmless. Even then, some of the men had taken exception to her inordinate skill with the cards.

  Now she was about to sit down with men he didn't know. And what he had learned about Binsby was that he was a vindictive loser. He knew that second thoughts were the devil's own. But at the moment, he was wishing he had never allowed Mary to talk him into this insane scheme of hers. Unfortunately, it was something she had always been able to do.

  "Good evening, gentlemen," Mary said as she came to a stop behind one of the younger players, and across the table from their prey. Rodney's heart lurched as it had all night whenever she spoke. He knew her impersonation of a man was flawless, but he still couldn't believe people couldn't see through it.

  "Mr. Johnson," Binsby replied. "By chance, are you looking for a game tonight?" His voice was cheery an
d extremely amicable. Just as Mary had predicted.

  "Indeed, I am, Mr. Binsby. Indeed, I am," Mary replied.

  Once again, a cold shudder slithered down his back. She had assured him earlier that she had played cards with Binsby on several occasions. Not once had he recognized her as Marietta Sigona. She had also insisted that she had always controlled the games when they had played.

  Sometimes she won and sometimes she intentionally lost in order to draw him into deeper play. But she had never ended a game with his losses too deeply to her. It would have drawn too much attention to herself. Something she had never wanted to do. She just like the jest of playing a trick on the same men who thought her a mindless, soulless harlot.

  So, in the past she had used her skills to make sure that others at the table walked away with most of the winnings. Tonight, she was going to ensure that she and Rodney walked away with everything he owned.

  She nodded her head toward Rodney. "Do you know my new friend, Lord Hamstone?"

  Rodney saw him twitch ever-so-slightly but otherwise showed no sign of trepidation on meeting the son of the man he had swindled out of a huge amount of money.

  "Yes, I had the pleasure, of meeting Lord Hamstone last year,” Binsby replied to Mary then turned to Rodney. “My condolences on your loss. As you know, your father was a good friend of mine.” The man was smooth, and oily, and made Rodney's skin crawl.

  Rodney gritted his teeth and smiled as benignly as he could without cracking his teeth. "In deed," he replied. "As I understand it, you and my father were partners in some kind of investment adventure. Were you not?"

  "For a time," Binsby replied. "Unfortunately, it didn't pan out as we had hoped. We all lost our initial investments when the mine closed suddenly due to a horrible accident of some kind."

  A black haze threatened to descend over Rodney as he gritted his teeth so hard that there was a pop in the back of his jaw. "Yes, quite unfortunate. I understand there were four or five of you in the consortium."

  The man blanched ever-so-slightly. "Yes," Binsby answered, "it was insurance against just such an unforeseen circumstance happening. It kept anyone of us from incurring to great a loss."

  "A wise investment," one of the younger men put in. "I myself am currently negotiating such an investment." His eyes flickered to Binsby and then back up to Rodney. And judging by the apprehensiveness flooding the man's face he knew the man had said more than he was supposed to.

  Glancing around the table he caught varying degrees of trepidation on the faces of all the men. Which probably meant that they were all more than likely caught up in a scheme similar to the one that saw his father swindled out of a large sum of money. His uneasiness about allowing Mary to go through with her plan remained. But his determination to put a stop to Binsby once and for all increased tenfold.

  The older man grumbled, "Are we playing cards or what?"

  It was quite gauche to talk about finances in public. But from what Rodney had heard he hadn't expected Binsby to be well mannered or cultured.

  "I'm here to play cards," Mary put in as she pushed past him. "We can talk about finances and investments tomorrow. But for now, I've got other things I would much rather be doing."

  Rodney felt like a child being called out for interrupting an adult conversation. But it might have been useful as it had kept Binsby attention on him and not on Mary. The two of them slipped into empty seats and then the game resumed. Or began as Rodney felt. A very dangerous game. And one he hoped he didn't come to regret.

  Mary knew if she didn’t distract the two men then a dawn appointment for the two of them was very likely. And they had already avoided one such meeting as Lord Seetin’s second had found them half an hour ago to relay the man’s deepest apologies. So, Mary would like to avoid another one, if she could.

  And the best way to do that was to put her plan into action. Both Mary and Rodney lost the first hand, and Binsby smirked with satisfaction. Mary just smiled and shook her head sorrowfully, even as she smirked inwardly as she had seen Binsby palming a couple of cards.

  “Lady Luck is running with you tonight, Seth. I hope I and my friend here don’t lose our shirts to you like Nathan did the other night to you,” Mary said.

  One of the young bucks looked up and began fidgeting. He would be out of the game in another hand or two. And Binsby knew it as he threw Mary a quick glare before hiding it. Now all she had to do was get the rest of the men out of the game and then concentrate on beggaring Binsby.

  Over the next half dozen hands, Mary won two, allowed Rodney to win one, and allowed Binsby to win three. It was time to spring the first trap.

  As Binsby shuffled, Mary casually said, “There was a rumor going around earlier this evening that the Italian actress, Marietta Sogona, was your new lady bird.”

  Binsby looked up and grinned sardonically. But before he could reply, Mary quickly added, “But then my friend and I ran into her earlier tonight, and she squashed the rumor. Said there was no way you were her protector. Nor would you, or any man ever be, as she has no need for one.”

  His fingers froze as well as his smile. She could see his hands beginning to quiver, then one of the cards crumbled.

  Mary smiled blithely. “It must be nice, as a woman, to be so wealthy and independent that someone like Signorina Sigona does not need the protection of a man like you, with all your wealth and influence.”

  Binsby called for a fresh pack of cards, and then lost four hundred pounds to Mary. And so the night went, Mary would give him enough wins to keep him in the game, then win enough to infuriate the man. And she knew men like Binsby. Gamblers. The more they lost, the deeper they played. Especially, if they won a few good hands ever so often. The trick was to allow the play to deepen casually. And then when the man was hooked, take him for everything thing he had.

  By three A.M. Rodney was out of the game and sitting across the room nursing a glass of good, and more than likely smuggled, French brandy. Two of the young noblemen had also run out of money and were nursing their own drinks a table over from them. Although, in their case they weren't so much nursing their drinks as drowning their sorrows in whiskey.

  From what he had been able to overhear, and understand from their mumbling and slurred speech, they had lost the bulk of the money they were intending to invest in one of Binsby's "sure deals." Rodney would have felt sorry for them if he hadn't known for certain that their capital investment would have been just an inducement and nothing more. It was how the man had drawn Rodney's father into investing more and more money into what he was sure was nothing but a fraudulent mining venture. Nevertheless, guilt assailed him over the fact that Mary was taking so much of their money. As he watched the deep play, he was trying to think of ways to return it to them without injuring their dignity.

  Suddenly he was struck violently from the back and his body jerked forward, spilling most of the Brandy in his glass.

  "Turned you down, did she?"

  "Campton," Rodney growled. He slammed the crystal glass down hard enough to break it. Then he shook amber liquid from his hand while brushing at the wet spot on his pantaloons. "What in the bloody hell are you doing here? This isn't one of your usual haunts."

  Samuel slid into the chair across from him just as James and Kirby joined them. "Dante's isn't one of your usual haunts either," Sam said and then held up one of his hands. "Oh wait, you don't have any usual haunts as you don't normally come to London. So, the better question is, Hamstone, what in the bloody hell are you doing here?"

  "No, the better question is where is the Italian tart you left the theatre with," James asked.

  A cold rage flashed through Rodney in an instant. His hand clenched so tightly that his knuckles cracked. It took everything he possessed to not reach across and grab his old friend by the throat and pound him to a pulp. The only thing that kept him in his chair was the need to protect Mary's reputation was stronger than his desire to retaliate.

  "Shut up, James," he snarled.


  Both James and Kirby blinked at him in surprise. Rodney knew they were a little bit foxed but when weren't they lately. Sam, however didn't bat an eye which made Rodney feel decisively uneasy. As if he knew more about Mary than he should.

  "Rodney, what's wrong with you?" Kirby asked. "You look like you're about to challenge James to a duel."

  He fixed the man with his coldest stare as he fought to rein in his riotous emotions. It had been one of the longest, hardest, and momentous days of his life. In less than twenty-four hours he had rediscovered the woman he had loved for years, been thrown out of a club, robbed, jailed, caught kissing a woman dressed as a man in public, challenged to a duel, and spent the last hour watching the love of his life cheat at cards-despite her assurances that she wouldn’t-in order to recoup the money his father had lost to a swindler. And now to top it all off, he was on the verge of challenging two of his oldest friends to another duel.

  "Nothing," Rodney snapped. "There is nothing wrong with me. It has just been a hell of a long night is all."

  The two men relaxed and began grinning at him. James reached over and slapped him on his knee. "Well, we've got the cure for that," James said and then waved at one of the barmaids wondering around the hell. "More whiskey."

  Sam continued to eye him suspiciously as the woman came over and refilled their glasses. After she left, he turned to the other two. "Why don't you give us a minute," Sam said. "I need to talk to Rod." Kirby opened his mouth and Sam cut him off. "It's a private matter.

  The two stared at Sam bewilderedly, and then began guffawing like two young school girls. "Of course. Of course," James said. He and Kirby then struggled to their feet and stumbled off. Rodney could hear them speculating that Sam wanted to ask about Marietta. The rest of the comments were swallowed up by the cornucopia of noise droning on through the hell.