Victoria gave a cup of tea to Julia and then prepared one for Christopher. “I was hardly in your company, my lord. As I recall, you spent most of the time with my older brother.” Teaching him how to be a brat, she almost added.
“I was not at my best,” he admitted. “My behavior was reprehensible. I look back at that time and feel a good deal of remorse.” He paused to accept the cup of tea and then said, “I owe you—and your family—an apology. I fear my influence on your brother had him adopting a life of indolence.”
Staring at the earl as if horns had appeared on either side of his head, Victoria said, “I rather doubt you can be at fault for my brother’s lack of good judgment,” she replied. She held up the salver of biscuits. Both Juliet and Christopher helped themselves, their fingers brushing against one another so that they both gave a start.
“Apologies,” Juliet said as she quickly pulled her hand away from the tray.
Christopher stared at her. “I did not mind,” he murmured, his words almost a whisper.
A blush colored Juliet’s face, and she quickly turned her attention to her tea.
Victoria gave Christopher a sideways glance, which he barely caught given his gaze had lingered on Juliet. “I am responsible for what he became,” he insisted. “I am older, and I should have known he might emulate my worst traits. Traits I have recently overcome. I should have provided a better example for him to follow.”
Juliet and Victoria exchanged a quick glance before Victoria said, “You really did hit your head, didn’t you?”
He nodded and allowed a wan grin. “Indeed, but I am better for it. I promise.” Sighing as if a huge weight had been lifted, he added, “Now, you must tell me what you two have been doing on this fine day.”
“Riding horses,” they said in unison, and then tittered.
“And?” he prompted, his gaze on Juliet.
“Discussing investments.”
Christopher blinked before he looked to Victoria.
“I have met with Mr. Grandby regarding an opportunity, but you cannot tell Jerry about it, or I shall be very cross with you,” Victoria warned.
“I have not spoken with Lord Jeremiah in over three years, but I promise I shall keep your secret.” He turned to Juliet. “Have you done the same? For if you have, you will have my undying admiration.”
Juliet shook her head. “I have not, for I have not yet come into my majority. But I’ll be reading the contract later today,” she replied. “I have agreed to act as a witness when Lady Victoria signs it, so I want to be sure I understand it.”
Looking as if he was either in ecstasy or imagining it, Christopher stared at her until she grew uncomfortable and took a drink of tea. “I should like very much to spend time in your company,” he said. “Perhaps you would favor me by agreeing to a ride in the park?”
Juliet swallowed. “I cannot tomorrow, as I won’t be taking my leave of Fairmont Park until late afternoon,” she stammered.
“The day after, then. May I collect you at three o’clock?”
Deciding she couldn’t very well turn down his offer, Juliet tried a different tact. “I’ll have to have a chaperone with me,” she said, hoping the mention of a companion would change his mind.
It didn’t.
“Of course,” he replied. “I expect you would. If it’s warm enough, I shall drive the barouche, and if it’s not, we will ride in a coach.”
Juliet once again looked to Victoria, who merely lifted a shoulder and gave her a prim grin.
“Well, if my father allows it, then I shall expect you at three o’clock day after next,” Juliet said.
“Capital,” Christopher said with a nod. “Ladies, I must take my leave. I’ve an appointment with my tailor.” He leaned over and kissed Victoria on the cheek. “Thank you for tea, my lady.”
Juliet squirmed, afraid he might do the same with her. But he merely turned and lifted her hand to his lips. “Day after next, my lady. Good day.” He gave them a bow and took his leave as both women watched him go.
Victoria’s gaze stayed on the door for a long time before she took a deep breath and returned her attention to her tea. She noticed how Juliet stared at her, and she rolled her eyes. “You are shocked, I can tell.”
“Has he kissed you like that before?” Juliet asked in a whisper.
Her hostess nodded. “Once on the lips even,” she replied, her brows waggling. “But we are mere friends. Nothing more. And you must know his mother is Italian, and he’s just returned from Paris, so he tends to say or do things that might be considered scandalous here, yet are perfectly acceptable there.”
Julia considered Victoria’s comments before she asked, “Did you understand what he was saying about... about youthening?”
Sighing, Victoria set aside her tea and interlaced her fingers. “He is nothing like he was when I last spent time in his company,” she said quietly.
“What was he like?”
A guffaw escaped Victoria. “A pompous ass,” she whispered. “So full of himself as to be completely oblivious to the poor opinions others had of him.”
“Has he always been like that?”
Victoria shook her head. “Hardly. He used to be one of the most pleasant men to be with. Very agreeable. Friends with everyone. Educated, of course, so he could carry on a diverting conversation no matter the topic.”
“What happened?”
Furrowing her brows, Victoria stayed silent for a long time before an expression of pain crossed her face. “Age, I think. Missed opportunities. Most of his friends have married and already have their heirs and spares while he has yet to have courted a single young woman.” For a moment, she looked as if she might cry. “Time passed him by.”
“Did you ever want him to court you?” Juliet asked, thinking that might be why Victoria displayed a look of regret.
The older woman shook her head. “Truth be told, I always thought he was too old for me.”
“And now?”
Victoria shrugged. “I would not consider his suit, and he knows it.” She brightened then. “However, he is definitely enamored with you.”
Juliet winced. “I was afraid of that. I’m sure it’s just because he feels badly about what happened yesterday.”
“Perhaps,” Victoria hedged. “But I do think hitting his head knocked some sense into him.”
Juliet finished a biscuit. “Then if what you’ve said is true, let’s hope it doesn’t get knocked out, for it seems I will be spending an afternoon in his company day after next.”
Chapter 17
Help is Sought from an Unlikely Source
Later that night at White’s men’s club in St. James Street
“I’m rather surprised you two decided to join me tonight,” Tom said as Gabe Wellingham took the seat adjacent to his. “I expected the warmth of your future wives to keep you at home.” White’s wasn’t especially busy given the horrid weather that had settled over the city once the sky had darkened. From the snowflakes that still clung to James Burroughs’ blond hair, it was apparent it was snowing.
“I am not yet leg-shackled,” Gabe replied, a dimple appearing in one cheek. “But come Friday, Burroughs and I will be saying our vows.”
James Burroughs gave a nod as he took a seat in a wingback chair. “And I’ve not yet been to Woodscastle tonight.”
“Late night at the bank?” Gabe asked.
“Late night with an agent. I’ve just acquired a townhouse in Curzon Street,” James proudly announced. He gave the waiter his drink order before he turned his attention on Tom. “You cannot tell your sister. It’s her wedding present.”
Tom blinked at hearing the news. “I don’t know when I would have the opportunity,” he argued.
“You will be there to pay witness to our vows?” Gabe half-asked.
“Of course, I’ll be there,” Tom assured them. “Friday. Ten o’clock?”
The two grooms nodded in unison.
“You mentioned in your last note that y
ou had to see someone about a horse,” James prompted.
Tom stiffened, sure they would tease him should he mention Lady Victoria. “Indeed.”
“And?”
Tom pretended the matter was of little consequence. “A potential client is all. I received a request to meet with someone regarding their investment opportunities,” he explained. “They have a fortune that must be protected. They also happen to train horses for the racing circuit.”
“Are you buying a race horse?” James asked in surprise.
“No.” The word held the sort of finality that suggested James shouldn’t inquire further, which instead had him furrowing a brow.
“What’s her name?”
His mouth dropping open, Tom straightened in his chair. “Whatever has you asking that?”
“If it had been a man looking to protect a fortune, you would have said so,” Gabe accused.
“You know that I cannot disclose my clients’ identities,” Tom stated. “Besides, I haven’t yet decided if I will take her on.” This last wasn’t true. He had not only formulated a proposal, he’d had his secretary busy copying it and drawing up a contract just that morning. Then he had dropped off the papers earlier that day.
“Because you have feelings for her?”
“What? No!” Tom replied. Exasperated, he said, “No,” one more time.
Gabe’s eyes widened in delight, and he said, “Perhaps I should pay a visit to the betting book,” he teased.
“Don’t. You’ll only lose,” Tom warned with a shake of his head.
James exchanged glances with Gabe, and the two were up and out of their chairs in an instant, hurrying off to the room in which the betting book was mounted for all to see.
Rolling his eyes, Tom glanced down at the letter he still held.
A letter of apology.
It was the very last thing he had expected to receive from Lady Victoria. Especially when all seemed well upon his departure from Fairmont Park earlier that day. Apparently she was concerned that he had wasted his time on delivering the proposal in person when she was unable to spend time with him right then to review it.
Apparently she didn’t understand that she was expected to spend time reviewing the proposal without his counsel. Besides that, she was under no obligation to accept it. However, Tom had every intention of moving forward with the investment—with or without her funds.
Now he had a decision to make.
Once he had made arrangements to invest her funds, could he then propose another sort of arrangement?
He was contemplating writing a letter to both her father and her brother, Lord Michael, when Gabe and James returned, huge grins on their faces.
“You and I have exactly the same problem,” Gabe announced.
Tom frowned. “And what is that?”
“We’re in love.”
“And on that note, I’m off to Woodscastle and the woman I love,” James stated. He gave an exaggerated bow as Gabe and Tom watched him go.
Scoffing at the comment—what the hell had happened to his best friend?—Tom turned to Gabe and asked, “Would you like a ride to Trenton House?” Arthurs’ was only a ways down in St. James Street, but Tom felt honor-bound to offer his coach.
“I came in the Trenton town coach,” Gabe said. “But thank you for the offer.” After another moment, he leaned forward and asked, “Pray tell, who is it that warms your bed these days?”
Tom arched a brow, at first tempted to reply that it was none of Gabe’s business. But he saw that Gabe wasn’t asking for the purpose of teasing him. “Unfortunately, no one,” he replied. “Or perhaps it is fortunate. The pursuit of the perfect woman for me is proving rather difficult. So much so, I have ceased thinking about it.”
His face displaying a look of disbelief, Gabe said, “You do realize that once you find her, you’ll have to chase her until she catches you?” he warned.
His brows furrowing at hearing the odd comment, Tom finally allowed a chuckle. “Perhaps that is what I am doing wrong.” The two shook hands, and Tom took his leave of the room.
Heading in the direction of the door, Tom felt a combination of annoyance and regret. The younger man’s query not only reminded him that it had been six months since he had quit his mistress, but it also underscored what Tom was coming to believe was a flaw in his character.
When he’d had opportunities to court women—and there had been many—he hadn’t taken them.
Not once.
Every time, he’d had an excuse.
Most were valid.
Not enough time when he was in London. His days were filled with meetings and writing letters. Doing research.
Following up on investments scattered across England meant he spent too much time traveling.
When was there time for courting? Enough time for a wife?
He was so deep in thought, he didn’t realize he wasn’t walking alone. That is, until he heard the sound of a throat clearing.
Loudly.
Tom stopped, as did the man who was abreast of him.
“Apologies, Mr. Grandby, but I wondered if I might have a word? I’ll buy you a drink, of course.”
Tom blinked as he stared at the man, for he immediately recognized Christopher, Earl of Haddon.
And couldn’t for the life of him think of why the earl might want to have a word with him.
Chapter 18
An Earl Pleads for Help
A second later
“My lord, I apologize. I did not see you there,” Tom said as he gave a bow. Given his height and Haddon’s title, Tom made sure the courtesy was deeper than usual.
“Mr. Grandby, it’s fortuitous that I find you so close to White’s,” Haddon said. “I wish to buy you a drink.”
Tom didn’t try to hide his surprise. “Me, sir?”
“Yes. Will you oblige me?”
The thought of being seen in the company of the future Marquess of Morganfield—in White’s no less, given the current marquess was a member of Brook’s—had Tom giving the earl a nod. “Of course.”
As they turned and headed back to the men’s club, Tom was relieved to see Gabe climbing into the Trenton coach. He wouldn’t have wanted the young man thinking he hadn’t been truthful when he had taken his leave of the club only moments earlier.
Tom followed Haddon into the club, surprised when the earl paused to wait for him to come alongside before they made their way to an alcove at the back. He was also curious as to how Haddon had greeted the butler, his complimentary words leaving the man wide-eyed and tongue-tied.
Haddon indicated a pair of chairs and took one, crossing his legs and steepling his fingers as he rested an elbow on the arm of the chair.
A footman was quick to take their orders and then disappeared.
“I don’t mean to be dramatic,” Haddon said in preamble. “But I believe you might have the ear of someone I wish to court.”
Tom blinked, immediately thinking of his sister, Emily. But given she was only the grandniece of a viscount and a lesser relation to a duke, he didn’t think Haddon would even know her. “Not a relative, certainly,” he guessed.
“The daughter of a friend of yours,” Haddon replied. “Although your last sister is fetching and would no doubt make a suitable wife for any lucky man.”
Having a hard time keeping an impassive expression—Tom had thought the earl a pompous man given the descriptions he had heard of late—he said, “I thank you for saying so, my lord.”
So much for thinking the earl wouldn’t know of Emily.
“Haddon, please.” His gaze was intense as he regarded Tom. “The woman I have decided to make my future marchioness is a friend of one of your new investors.” He leaned back in the chair, waiting for his guest to guess the young lady’s name.
His brows furrowing, Tom considered the identity of his newest investor—Victoria Statton—and then remembered who had been with her when he had paid a call on Fairmont Park earlier that day. “You must know Miss
Comber isn’t an aristocrat’s daughter,” he said carefully.
Haddon displayed a look of endearment at hearing her name. “But she is the granddaughter of two earls,” he countered. “Her father is a second son, and he served in the British Army in the war against France.”
Tom was about to say something when the footman appeared with their brandies. He allowed the servant to finish setting the glasses on the side tables and then watched as the footman bowed and took his leave of the alcove.
“You don’t think she’s... too young for you?” Tom asked in a quiet voice. “I would expect your taste in women would tend to someone a bit older. More worldly.”
Haddon regarded his brandy as he swirled it in the glass before he said, “I agree, of course. But something happened, and I find myself quite in awe of her skills.”
For just a fraction of a second, Tom thought Haddon might be referring to skills for which Juliet Comber should have no knowledge, but then he remembered her horsemanship. “She is quite impressive on a horse,” he said.
Furrowing his brows, Haddon said, “Oh, I do not refer to her skills as a horsewoman, although I agree they are impressive. I was referring to her ability to punch.”
Tom blinked. “Punch?”
Haddon nodded. “She has a rather effective uppercut.” He mimicked her move by balling a fist and then punching it into the air in front of him. “Took me down like a sack of potatoes.”
Tom wondered how he was supposed to respond to that bit of news. “I was unaware she possessed those skills, sir,” he remarked. Remembering the earl’s unusual behavior with the butler, and coupled with his friendly behavior with those they had passed on their way to the alcove, Tom asked, “Did you hit your head?”
A huge grin split the earl’s face. “Yes! Yes, I did, thanks to Miss Comber. Best thing that ever happened to me, which is why I have paid a call on Mr. Comber and secured his permission to court her.”
Tom dipped his head, not sure what else to do. “And Miss Comber? Given the lack of entertainments in town this month, have you made arrangements for an outing, perhaps?”
The Choice of a Cavalier (The Heirs of the Aristocracy Book 3) Page 12