The Romantic (29 page)

“Indeed not.”

“Of course.”

Another pensive silence.

“Gentlemen, let us at least put each other’s minds at ease. Can we agree that in the unlikely event that Dante is correct, the ladies keep such indiscreet confidences among themselves?” Laclere said. “Do we all acknowledge that our wives have never reported to us any such gossip about another man?”

“My brother means another man seated at this table, I
think.” With an expression that revealed complete confidence in his own reputation, Dante flicked more ash off his cigar.

Adrian’s hand went over his heart. “Sophia has never, ever, in any way indicated, even by innuendo, that she has heard that any man sitting here is wanting in that department, I so swear.”

St. John appeared very bored. “I am sure that Diane does not participate in such talk.”

“Don’t all look at
me,”
Dante protested. “Fleur told me they talk about it. She did not tell me what they said.”

“I am sure such conversations are not common, and that women talk about many other things when they are together,” Julian said.

“Certainly.”

“Gowns, children, politics …”

“This topic probably does not occupy more than, oh, a half to three quarters of their time,” Julian said.

They all laughed, and St. John started dealing the cards. His gaze rose as his hands moved. His expression hardened, and a focused intensity entered his eyes. He glanced sharply to Laclere and continued dealing.

Laclere turned his head for a second. “Glasbury just walked in. Someone must have sent word to him that Adrian invited Julian here tonight.”

Julian picked up his cards. He barely noticed their numbers. Most of his awareness was on the unseen earl behind him. He felt that man as if Glasbury were a cold spectre in the card room.

The mutinous corner of his mind had been full of Pen the last ten days. She dwelled there all the time, a beautiful
voice and face that calmed and soothed. Her embraces made all the cuts and smirks insignificant.

Now she retreated, and older, harsher emotions stirred. A ruthless anger chilled his blood.

He looked up from the cards to find St. John examining him.

“You are not carrying a weapon, are you, Hampton?”

The other men at the table turned their surprised attention on him.

“To repeat what you once said to me, would you swing for this?” St. John asked. “He is watching us and will come over here soon. I am sure it is not your intention to harm him, but let us be sure you are not tempted. Pass the pistol to Adrian under the table.”

The command did not come only from St. John. The expressions of the three others demanded he do it, too.

Exhaling between his teeth, Julian slipped the small pistol from under his coat and placed it in Adrian’s invisible, waiting hand.

Glasbury took his time, but eventually he approached their table. He acted as if Adrian Burchard were the only person sitting at it.

“Burchard, I think the membership needs to address the matter of inappropriate guests being invited to the club, don’t you?”

“I see no need. We leave it to each member to make that decision himself.”

“Normally, yes. One assumes, however, that gentlemen will exercise discretion, and know better than to invite someone who is the subject of notoriety and scandal. If a member’s judgment fails him, the other members have cause to complain.”

Adrian looked Glasbury directly in the eye. “The thing about scandal is it is often just gossip. If we barred men from these chambers for that alone, we would lose half our members. Now, should you be speaking of a guest who has been officially made notorious, through evidence, I might agree with you. For example, if a man were named in criminal correspondence with a peer’s wife, other members might feel obliged to consider that peer’s insult, especially if that peer was also a member. Barring that, however, such matters are of no account to this club except as topics of conversation.”

Glasbury’s spine stiffened. “I see that you are no better than your company. I have some influence at the palace, you know. A few ears that always listen to me.”

“What does he mean by that?” St. John asked, simply ignoring how Glasbury hovered by his shoulder.

“They are thinking of giving me a title,” Adrian said. “For two years they have been debating it. My marriage to Sophia presents a conundrum. On the one hand, they disapprove and do not want to look to be sanctioning it. On the other, a duchess with a husband who is not titled—well, it doesn’t fit right, does it?”

St. John shrugged. “You never fit right.”

“They could do it for services rendered to the Crown prior to his marriage, thus ostensibly ignoring the marriage itself,” Laclere said. “Only that would require admitting what those services were, which the Foreign Secretary refuses to do. So, the conundrum deepens.”

Glasbury did not miss that his presence had become irrelevant. He might have been an extra empty chair at the table.

His face reddened. His steely glare lit on Julian.

“You are a scoundrel. It is not to be borne that Laclere and Burchard bring you here. But then I should have expected it from men who have courted scandal themselves.”

“I trust that you are not going to get into high dudgeon of moral indignation, Glasbury. That would be both hypocritical and ridiculous,” Julian said.

“I know your game, Hampton. Penelope told me what you expect. It won’t happen. I will never let her go.”

“Then we have a stalemate, don’t we?”

“The hell we do.”

“I assume that means you received the message I sent back with those men you employed, and that you came here to challenge me.”

Glasbury’s mouth slackened in surprise that Julian had lured him to a very uncomfortable place.

“Not a challenge? Just bluster, then. Pity.”

Glasbury managed to find his sneer again. “I do not duel over whores.”

Five men were on their feet in an instant. Adrian swung out his arm to block Julian and Laclere from grabbing the earl, while St. John held back Dante. Every eye in the card room turned to the disturbance.

“Apologize, Glasbury,” Adrian warned. “Explain that your anger got the better of you, or you will leave with three challenges to face.”

“On what standing? She is
my
wife.”

“I don’t give a damn that she is,” Julian snarled. “If you insult her, I demand satisfaction.”

Glasbury maintained his pose for a few seconds more. Then he took one step back. “I admit it is tempting, Hampton, but I have other plans. I want you to know
that today I initiated a petition to the courts demanding the return of my conjugal rights. As for the rest of you, I will be organizing votes against the Parliamentary charter for that Durham project in which you are partners.”

Silent astonishment fell on the table. Julian tried to shrug off the hands holding him so he could strangle the bastard.

Glasbury smiled in smug satisfaction at the reaction to his surprise. “My anger got the better of me, gentlemen. I apologize for calling your sister a whore no matter what appellation her behavior deserves.”

He turned on his heel and walked away. Julian clawed his way back to sanity.

“Coward,” he muttered.

Not a word was said about Glasbury’s announcements, but it had subdued them all. They sat down to return to their cards.

Everyone except St. John. He placed his palms on the table and leaned forward to focus an intense inspection on Julian. “He
is
a coward, and you are becoming an idiot. He was right.
You
have no standing. He can challenge you, but you cannot challenge him. A man cannot arrange to kill his lover’s husband in a duel and get away with it. What has happened to you? Have you lost your mind?”

Julian glared back at him, but his returning rationality admitted the truth.

Love was what had happened to him, and he
had
lost his mind.

“I think that I will retire now,” Bianca said. “I doubt that the gentlemen will be home for many hours.”

While the Dueling Society had gathered at White’s, their ladies had congregated at Laclere’s house. Now that the guests were gone, Penelope and Bianca strolled to the staircase.

Pen mounted the steps with her friend. She wondered if Julian would join her tonight. Perhaps it would be too awkward for him to just come up these stairs alongside Laclere.

Men could be very peculiar about such things. Of course, Julian did not know that Laclere and Bianca had an affair before they married.

She trusted he would visit anyway, so she did not go to bed. She busied herself at her writing desk. Mrs. Levanham had sent her the final draft of the essay on the marriage laws to review. Under the circumstances, the accompanying letter had explained, Pen’s name would no longer be included as an author.

She told herself she did not mind, although in her heart she really did. Still, the goal was to begin some social discussion of the matter, not to take credit for the pamphlet.

“The kind of divorce I will have will add nothing to the debate,” she said aloud as she read the opening paragraph. “My adultery will be the only issue, and not Glas-bury’s behavior. My name will contribute nothing to this essay’s reputation, and will only hurt it now.”

She read the paragraphs that were her own, but which she could never claim. Halfway through the essay, she was distracted by a low rapping on her door.

She knew it was not Julian. He no longer requested permission to enter.

She opened the door to find one of the servants. The young woman appeared a little furtive.

“I am sorry, madame. Someone has come asking for you.”

“The earl?”

“No, madame. We know not to admit him. This is a woman. She has been in the kitchen several hours, waiting until the other ladies left. Cook took pity on her and let her stay and told me to come tell you now. We hope that you will not be displeased we did this.”

Curious, Pen followed the girl down to the kitchen.

A figure rose from a stool near the pine worktable.

“Catherine!”

“It is good to see you, madame.” Catherine tapped a little shoulder, and a young blond girl of about five years stood, too. “This is my Beth. Darling, this is the Countess of Glasbury.”

The child’s eyes widened. She made a curtsey.

Catherine’s manner requested privacy before they spoke further. Pen had the servant take Beth to the other end of the kitchen to play, then sat down with Catherine.

“How is it that you have your daughter with you?”

“I stole her,” Catherine said in her blunt way. “I saw how she was being treated, and I had to take her away. She was dirty, and not even sleeping in a bed. They are her family, but they treated her like the worst servant. Look at how thin she is. Do not tell me I have no right. I am her mother, and I have every right.”

“I am the last woman to preach to you about your lack of rights. So you just took her?”

“Their own neglect permitted it. No one paid attention to where she was and what she was doing. She could
have fallen into a river for all they would know. Getting her away was easy.”

“What will you do now?”

“I’ve decided to leave and take her with me. Go to America, the way you had planned. I hear it is a big country. Bigger than we in Britain can even imagine.”

“Yes. Very big.”

“A woman and a child could probably disappear there. I must leave quickly, however. Jacob will soon know what I have done, if he doesn’t already. Beth said he was due to visit her, and he may be looking for us already. I dare not delay.”

“Do you need some money?”

Catherine’s blue eyes moistened. “I have no right to ask, I know. Mr. Hampton was very generous when he left me in Blackburn, but I did not expect to be leaving the country then. If it were just me, I would take any berth, but Beth—I do not want her getting sick on the voyage and—”

“Of course I will help you. I will give you what money I have, but I know a way to help with more than money. Wait here until I return.”

Pen walked through the sleeping house, back to her chamber. She extracted the pile of documents waiting for her flight, should she ever need them.

Sitting down at her desk, she made some quick changes on three of the papers, then grabbed her brown cloak and hurried back to the kitchen.

“How did you get here, Catherine?”

“We walked.”

“Well, we cannot walk now.” Pen sent the serving girl to call the night footman from above. She then ordered
him to procure a hackney cab. “Be very sure that no one follows,” she said. “Be alert to anyone watching the house or alley.”

Catherine eyed the cloak in Pen’s arms. “What are you doing?”

Pen held up the documents. “One of these is a bank draft from my brother. It has now been signed over to you. I hope it still is accepted. This one is a letter of introduction from him to his wife’s aunt in Baltimore. I have added a note that I trust will be understood by her.”

She waved the final one. “This is a letter from Daniel St. John to all of his captains. It will get you a berth on any of his ships. One is in harbor here now, due to sail to Marseilles tomorrow morning. I will take you there, explain that you are to have the berth, and also explain to the captain that he is to write another letter to be given to any of St. John’s captains so that you can transfer. It will be a roundabout way to make the voyage, but it will remove you from England at once, and eventually you will get to America.”

When the cab arrived, Pen hurried Catherine and Beth into it. She gave the footman instructions to follow them for a while, to check that no one had noticed their departure or appeared to be following.

She gave the coachman directions to head for the docks, then settled in. She had taken every precaution possible, and did not expect any interference.

She would be gone only a few hours, and in this anonymous cab would not attract attention. Glasbury would have to be God himself to know how to find her.

She was very sure that she would be safe.

Quite positive.

“Catherine, just out of curiosity, do you still carry your pistol?”