“So you and Max,” Rex growled, his heavy brow dropping even lower as he ran a hand through his bedraggled hair. He kept it quite long, though it was normally artfully tied back. This morning it looked about as kept as a wet kitchen mop. “Actually, what do I care? The only thing better might be to cancel this trip to Dover.”
Si might have protested but he had his head between his knees.
Kenneth Marksburg, Earl of Kissinger, but known to them as Key, thumped the roof of the carriage. His blond hair fell in his bloodshot blue eyes. It startled all of them and Max gave him his best glower. He’d perfected it over years of telling people to piss off with his eyes. Key ignored the glance. “Onward, gentlemen. Dover awaits.”
It took another half hour to ready the second team, but in that time the men walked a bit and Max’s cook, Mrs. Pastrel, filled their stomachs. He had to be honest, he wasn’t sure if food made some of the men more or less likely to toss the contents of their stomachs and he was glad to be sharing a carriage with Chase.
It was near ten by the time they left his home. As he stretched his legs, Chase lay on the seat facing him and promptly fell asleep. Bastard.
The scenery slipped by, pretty farms dotting the landscape as they made their way through Rochester and then Faversham. By nightfall, he had a splitting headache. Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands, he let out a breath in the frigid carriage. A cloud of breath filled the cabin, thick and moist. The air was changing.
Sure enough, as he parted the curtain again, he watched as fat snowflakes fell to the ground. “Bloody hell,” he gritted out.
“What’s wrong?” Chase called from the other seat, finally rousing.
“Snow,” he said moving only his lips. What was he doing in this carriage, travelling all the way to Dover to spend Christmastide drunk? What was he doing with his life? He’d been asking himself questions like this a great deal of late.
“You do an amazing job of saying so much while talking so little. Your entire face tells a story,” Chase said as he stretched, giving a loud yawn. His jaw cracked and he reached his hand down to rub it. “You’ve really perfected stoic disapproval. It matches your black hair and craggy features perfectly.”
“Attractive description.” Max allowed the curtain to fall back in place. “No wonder debutantes aren’t chasing me and instead run in fear.”
“Oh please.” Chase rolled his eyes. “They don’t chase you because you flaunt debauchery. The second you show an iota of interest in marriage, they will flock about you.”
“They still chase you and you’re the most debaucherous of the lot of us.” Max rubbed his temples, trying to rid himself of the pounding in his head. It was true. Chase had the classic features of a god. His brown hair and sparkling eyes had lured many a women into his bed.
“You’re not actually considering it, are you?” Chase placed his elbows on his knees, his gaze narrowing as he assessed his friend.
For Max’s part, he had little intention of answering the question. Honestly, he didn’t know what he was considering beyond getting out of this carriage and returning home to sleep in his own bed. There was a vague sense that this life of drinking, gambling, and women had become too much, brittle and hollow in its pursuits. “Considering what?”
“Debutantes. Marriage. Domesticity,” Chase practically spit the last word.
Max leveled his friend with a stare. Chase was as close to a brother as he had. They all were. Some parts of a man’s mind, however, were private. “And miss all of this? Driving into Canterbury in the middle of a storm? Tell me again why we didn’t just Christmas together in London?”
Chase shrugged, sitting back in his seat, but his gaze continued to assess his friend. “The whiskey will be sweeter for the suffering.”
Max scratched his head. Somehow those words seemed significant. Puzzling out the how and the why, however, had to wait as the carriage slid upon the road, the vehicle tipping precariously to one side. Max braced himself against the wall as the driver pulled the conveyance to a stop.
Letting out a long breath, Max snapped the door open and stuck his head out. “Forgive me, Your Grace.” The driver removed his hat as he spoke. “But I don’t think we’ll make it to Dover tonight. Best to stop in Canterbury and travel on after this storm passes.”
Max gave a clipped jerk with his chin. “Put your hat back on, man, and tell the other driver.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the driver answered, bounding down from his seat.
It took a few minutes but the carriage began moving again.
They quickly made their way into Canterbury and stopped at an inn only to discover that it was full. As was the next and the next.
The five friends gathered outside the fourth inn they’d tried. Snow was pelting them as it collected on the ground soaking into their leather hessians.
“I think I’ve a solution.” Chase gave them a devilish grin. It was one he had perfected over years of practice. “There is a brothel over on Castle Street. Frau Kraus’s establishment. Perhaps there is room for us there.”
Rex let out a bark of laughter. “Only you would know where a brothel in Canterbury is located.”
“Frau and I go way back,” Chase’s grin spread even further. “Now there is a woman that can turn a boy into a ma—”
Si gave a timely cough. “Regardless, it’s freezing out here. Let’s go before the brothel is full too. If it isn’t already.”
Climbing back into the carriages, it took less than a quarter hour to make their way to the brothel and only a few minutes to secure a room.
Frau gave them a saucy wink. “We’re filled to the gills but Vadoma has generously allowed you gentlemen to share her room for the evening. She’ll expect compensation in addition to mine, of course. She’d also be happy to tell your fortune, if you’re so inclined.”
A gypsy. Max held in the long exhale he wished to let out. He’d have to sleep with one eye open tonight, which meant he’d need to refrain from drinking too much. A pity. After the day he’d had, it would have been nice to numb his throbbing head.
They were ushered upstairs and entered into a spacious room with a large bed, a table, and a window seat. A dark-haired beauty greeted them with a smile. “It is a pleasure, my lords,” she murmured, looking down at her open hand.
They each placed a shilling in her palm. This was the fee just for being allowed space on the floor, which was fine with Max. He had no desire to share a bed with such a woman. He wasn’t sure what was so distasteful about it. He’d made a hobby out of bedding willing females. Near an occupation, but not tonight. “Will any of you be needing additional services?” she murmured.
“No,” he answered before anyone else could. “Just a place to sleep.”
“Bloody bullocks, what is wrong with you, man?” Chase made a face at him. It was somewhere between a scowl and an eye roll.
“I meant,” the gypsy interrupted. “Would any of you like me to tell your fortune?”
“Not yet, love,” Chase gave her a rakish wink. “Perhaps later.”
“We would greatly appreciate…” Rex stepped forward. Taller and broader than Chase, he commanded the woman’s attention by his physical presence alone. “…if you could rustle up some whiskey.” Then he pressed several more coins in her hand.
She dipped into a curtsey. “Of course, my lords.” Rising, she made her way to the door and was gone.
Chase rounded on Max, his face set in hard lines. “I am bedding her.”
“Over my dead body,” Max ground out. “I want to sleep. It’s been a long damn day where I had to listen to your snores, I don’t want to hear any more of your…noises.”
The other men laughed, slapping Chase on the back.
Chase, however, was studying Max again as he addressed the others. “Our friend the duke was discussing debutantes as we rode.”
There was coughing and clearing of throats among the group. While they were men who held little regard for the rules, they did st
ill abide by a code of sorts. Honorable men did not tangle with virtuous ladies.
“I only said that they avoided me.”
“As do they us,” Si gave a nod.
Key shook his head, his overlong dark hair falling about his face. “As they should.”
Max looked over at Key. He recognized the tenor of his friend’s voice. Almost sad, remorseful.
The door opened and Vadoma returned holding two bottles of rot-gut whiskey. One of which Chase gratefully took and pulled the cork out with his teeth. Pressing the bottle to his lips, he took a generous swallow.
“Vadoma,” Max watched Chase take another healthy swig. “Is there any chance we might find something to eat?”
“I’m sure I can get something,” she answered, her eyes sliding down him in a calculated assessment. “But there are a great many staying here tonight. Even now, they are sitting around the Yule tree telling stories.”
His lips pressed together. He doubled the number of coin in his hand and passed the pile to her.
With a wink, she disappeared again.
They made themselves as comfortable as they could around the grate of the fire and passed the bottle between them. Max was careful to keep his sips small. Soon Vadoma returned with several bowls of stew and a half loaf of stale bread.
The meal looked divine. As food hit his stomach, Max relaxed for the first time all day.
Vadoma had taken up residence in her window seat and she began dealing out cards as the men ate. She clucked softly to herself as she slowly turned them over.
Chase had leaned against the wall next to the fireplace. “You know, Maximillian, you might have a point.”
Max’s fist tightened. It was nearly time to knock Chase’s teeth in. “And what is that?”
“It has gotten rather dull, chasing the same women. They are so…willing to be caught.” Chase gave a little chuckle. “Perhaps it is time to up the ante.”
Rex sat up straighter. “A bet?”
Clapping his hands together, Chase pointed to the ceiling. “Exactly like a bet.”
“What kind of bet?” Si’s hesitation mirrored Max’s own feelings.
“Most respectable women are more difficult to pursue but there are ladies among the ton that are more challenging than others—” Chase started
“No,” Max slashed his hand through the air. “We are not trifling with ladies. It’s dangerous and dishonest.”
“Relax, Your Grumpiness,” Chase gave him an eye roll. “You are not yourself today. I was going to wager on collecting a simple kiss.”
Si narrowed his gaze, his arms crossing. “Even that could end up landing one of us in the marriage noose.”
Rex ran his hand through his hair. “That certainly does up the ante now, doesn’t it?”
Key leaned forward. “Which ladies?”
“Excellent question.” Chase placed his hand over his heart. “I have a second cousin, Lady Ethel Standish that might—”
“No family,” Rex shook his head. “Too complicated.”
Bloody hell, it sounded as though they were actually considering this farce.
“The ladies can’t be related to us?” Si asked. “But can they be related to one another?”
Key chuckled. “This is getting interesting. What did you have in mind, Sirius?”
Sirius ran his hand through his hair, his eyebrows wagging. Then he grabbed the whiskey from Key and taking a swig, held out his arms. “The Ducat sisters.”
The room went silent.
Even Max paused. Last spring he had met two of the Ducat sisters at a pastry shop on Pleasant Street. Lady Lily Ducat had hardly said a word as introductions had been made and yet she had completely captivated his attention.
He’d thanked the saints her three older sisters had yet to marry. If she were an official debutante, he was sure her mama would be chasing him. He’d been that obvious.
He’d stared at her, for starters, unable to look away. But there was something about her, she was beautiful to be sure but it was more than that. She’d had this warmth and an innocence. He’d dreamed about her for days afterward when he was awake and asleep.
He’d managed to trip over his words too. Him. He hadn’t done that since the age of twelve. Now at twenty and nine years of age, he was a man who commanded respect. Well, except from Chase of course. But Chase didn’t respect anyone or anything.
How long ago had that been exactly? He ticked back in his mind and realized that he’d met her in early May and it was now December. How long had it been since he’d been with a woman? At least that long.
Shaking his head, he dismissed these thoughts and returned to the conversation.
“Isn’t one of the sisters ruined?” Key asked.
“Aye.” Chase scrubbed his chin. “She was engaged and called the arrangement off.”
Key shrugged. “In many ways the Ducats are perfect for this arrangement. Five of them, five of us. And with the exception of the one sister, they have flawless reputations. But the man who chooses her has an unfair advantage in gaining a kiss.”
Chase looked up to the ceiling than back down at them with a grin. “We shall have to draw names from a hat then.”
“No,” Max growled out even louder. The thought of one of these louts attempting to put his lips on the lovely Lily Ducat made his blood boil. He’d run the man through first. “Enough of this.”
“I think I can help,” Vadoma called from the table. She wore the type of grin that set Max’s stomach roiling. “Do you know the names of these girls?”
Rex rubbed his hands together. “There is Lady Adelaide, the youngest, at just eighteen.”
“And the twins, I believe their Christian names are Victoria and Christina.” Key rubbed his hand along the stubble of his jaw as if thinking deeply on the matter. It made Max’s teeth ache as he clenched them.
“Of course, the oldest is Camille,” Chase rumbled the name, a sound that came from deep in his chest. The lout.
“Who is the fifth?” Si asked, his brows drawing together.
“Lily,” Max let the single word fall from his lips.
All the men turned to him, mild shock and curiosity raising their brows. Chase gave him a wink. “Even the mighty duke, who shuns all respectable women, knows a Ducat. This is perfect.”
“It isn’t happening. If you do this, I will never speak to any of you again.” He stood then, raising to his full height which was well over six feet. “I’ll not allow you to ruin young ladies of worth.”
“If we’re caught, we’ll marry them.” Chase waved his hand. “It will have to happen to all of us eventually.”
Max was across the circle in an instant, his face an inch from Chase’s, his hand fisting up the other man’s shirt as he let out a low growl. “That is supposed to pacify me? Married to you?” He thought of Lily sitting at home while Chase was off hunting light skirts. “What kind of life would that be for her?”
Fear had flitted across Chase’s face for a moment before his lips pressed together. “Which her are we discussing? Lily?”
He pulled Chase to his feet, his other hand wrapping around the back of his friend’s neck. “We are talking about respectable women with the potential for real futures. They don’t need to be tangled in with the likes of us.” He sincerely meant every word.
Before Chase could answer, a gentle hand touched his back. A man would have clasped him on the upper arm, or perhaps the shoulder, but this feather light brush of fingers came at the small of his back. A set of lips pressed to the curve of his ear as breath whispered across his neck.
At another time in his life, it might have invoked excitement to have a woman touch him so, but not tonight. Not in the last seven months. “What?” he grit out.
“Do not worry, Your Grace. The ladies will not be harmed. The cards have told me so. But fate is at play and these men have a destiny to fulfill. All that need happen is for each of you to pick a card.”
Max turned his head to look at her a
s he slowly released Chase. She didn’t just hold out five cards but an entire deck. What could be the harm? A strange tingling pulsed in his fingertips. He must still be suffering from last night’s drink. Shaking the feeling off, he looked at the cards again. Surely the ladies’ names were not in the deck. How could they be?
Twisting his body, he reached for a card, pulling it from the pile in his hand. Participating in this was ludicrous but then again, the card seemed to call to him. The thick colorful stock was intricately painted with a design he didn’t understand as it sat face down in his grasp and a long breath left his lungs as he stared down.
“What’s on it?” Key asked, standing and moving to stand next to him. “What does it say?”
Twisting his wrist, he flipped the card over and then sucked in the breath he had just released.
“Damnation,” Key muttered as Chase stepped closer to peer over his shoulder. “It’s a Lily of the Valley.”
Vadoma gave him a smug smile. “Like we didn’t know that the duke would choose Lily.”
“I didn’t choose…” His words tapered off as his throat closed.
“Oh, but you did. And you’ve made an agreement now. By choosing the card, you’re bound to collect your kiss.” Vadoma turned to Key. “You’re next.”
Key paled and took a step back, his hands coming out in front of him, palms facing the gypsy. “I won’t take a card.”
Vadoma’s eyebrows went up. From her deck a single card drifted to the ground. As it fell, it flipped in the air and landed with a gentle scratch upon the floor. Staring up at them was a goddess, her beauty unmistakable as she floated above a pile of dead soldiers.
“What does it mean?” Key croaked.
It was Si who answered. “Victoria is the goddess of Victory.” His voice broke on the last word and he cleared his throat. “You’ve chosen Victoria.”
Max blinked. This couldn’t actually be happening. The next card would be nothing. It was a coincidence. But as she turned to Si, he reached a shaking hand out and pulled a card. Then he flipped the thick card stock out so they could all see, Christ hanging upon the cross. “Christina.”
My Wicked Earl: Wicked Lords of London Book 6 Page 10