“I have to make money somehow!” Joshua snapped. “Not everyone has a fortune handed over to them as you have!”
Charles hated when Joshua brought up his inheritance. There was nothing that Charles could argue in his defence; at the end of the day he
had
been handed his fortune, but he helped Joshua as much as he could.
“Oh come, Joshua, we’re all friends; there’s no need to be like that,” Bernard soothed. He had sensed that Joshua was losing Charles. The young man looked concerned, and Bernard stepped in, more experienced than Joshua in dealing with foolish, young men. “Your friend here wants to help you as much as he can. Don’t you, sir?”
“Of course,” Charles said, watching Joshua carefully. His friend had a temper, and he did not want to feel the brunt of it when there was no way he could walk out of the warehouse without his support. He felt completely backed into a corner with only one way out. He did not like what he was going to have to agree to; an image of Clara was enough to increase his discomfort further; if she ever found out she would be so disappointed in him. He had the choice of pacifying his friend or risking the censure of his sister. At this moment, there was only one way he could act and, in this at least, he would have excellent brandy for his trouble.
“You don’t sound like you want to help,” Joshua replied, sounding like a spoiled child, but his eyes were watching Charles carefully.
“I do, my friend, I do!” Charles reassured Joshua before turning to Bernard. “Let’s go over what you need from me.”
Chapter 4
Edmund sat in White’s exclusive gentleman’s club on St James’ Street, sipping his brandy and mulling over his conversation with Henry. Edmund was a few years younger than Henry, at twenty-eight to Henry’s thirty-four, but Edmund had experienced enough of life to be on an equal standing with his friend. Most of the time they got on well but, with some of the outrageous things Henry said, Edmund was thankful their outlooks were worlds apart. Away from society Henry was so cold and calculating; his whole focus was on getting the job done, no matter what the cost was to those around him. Edmund was no sentimental fool, but he usually would not walk over people the way Henry did. Everyone was expendable in Henry’s eyes, something that Edmund disagreed with.
Henry saw everything in black and white; they were out to find who the enemies of King and country were; therefore, any method in achieving that aim was acceptable. Joshua Shambles could turn out to be merely a smuggler and would no longer be of interest to them. Edmund was right; they had to choose the people they focused on. Excise men would be interested in Joshua if he was smuggling goods into the country, but Henry had wanted to find out more about him for a while; Joshua was very good at covering his tracks, which made both men suspicious, although Edmund would always torment Henry that he was too focused on Shambles.
Edmund pushed his thoughts aside as Charles walked into the room. “Glazebrook?” Edmund asked, putting his empty glass on the ornate side table that was conveniently by his chair.
Charles paused and turned to Edmund. “Yes.”
Edmund stood with a smile on his face. “We met last night, but you weren’t in any fit state to remember. I know we haven’t been formally introduced! I’m Chertsey. Would you care to join me in a brandy?”
The men made their bows to each other. “You have the advantage over me, My Lord,” Charles admitted with a smile. “I remember a little of last night….”
Edmund chuckled good-naturedly, sitting once more in the large, rich brown leather winged-back chair. He filled the seat, Charles looking slight when seated in the matching furniture opposite Edmund. “You appeared to be a little the worse for wear.”
“Did you take me home last night?” Charles asked. Puzzled as to why Lord Chertsey would do such a thing.
“I did,” Edmund acknowledged. “I realise it was presumptuous of me, but we collided when you came out of a room, and you seemed a little unsteady on your feet. It wouldn’t have been good for your reputation to be drawing attention to yourself on your first visit to Mrs Langtree. She can be very particular about her guests.”
“Oh, I say, that’s awfully good of you,” Charles said, with a slight flush. “It was my first visit but, by Jove, it won’t be my last!”
“Yes, the ladies attending there are very welcoming,” Edmund acknowledged.
“They certainly are! I’d no interest in cards when there were other entertainments on offer!” Charles said with feeling.
Edmund schooled his features into a smile. It was no wonder the boy was being targeted by Joshua Shambles; he was an innocent, even more so than his sister. It seemed every thought that entered his head was blurted out with complete disregard of how his words might sound and whom he was speaking to. “Yes, I bought your friend a drink. He seemed to be on a losing streak.”
“He was,” Charles admitted, not thinking to question why Lord Chertsey seemed to know an awful lot about himself and his friend even though they had never been introduced. “I don’t understand Shambles sometimes; he rarely wins. I couldn’t be bothered with constantly trying to win back what I’d lost. Although he doesn’t like me saying that to him.”
“I expect not,” Edmund said, indicating to the footman that they needed their glasses refilled. “Sometimes the chase of a win is where the thrill comes from I suppose.”
“It must be because he certainly loses more than he wins,” Charles admitted. Charles had no head for spirits and could not hold his drink; however, he had already had quite an amount before reaching White’s, so his open nature was even more exaggerated than normal.
“He is lucky in your friendship then,” Edmund said. “Are you enjoying the season? You are down with your sister, aren’t you?” Edmund was no fool; constantly asking questions about Joshua could potentially raise alarm, especially if Charles mentioned the conversation to his friend. Charles might be naïve, but Joshua certainly was not.
“Yes, it’s probably too late for her, but I hope she finds a suitor while she’s here. She should have had a season years ago, but my father’s illness and then the mourning period put paid to that. I feel sorry for her; there are a lot prettier, younger girls on the marriage mart this year. My sister doesn’t even have a huge dowry to help, although to be fair it’s not too bad.”
Edmund almost laughed out loud at Charles’ comments. With an ally like Charles, his sister would never find a suitor. The thought of the sister not being chased by young men appealed to Edmund, as a possessive feeling had wrapped around his chest at the mention of her finding a suitor; he did not wish any of the fops he knew to experience the kisses that he had.
“It’s very good of you to bring her, even so,” Edmund said smoothly.
Charles sighed and then started to speak as if a dam had burst. “You would think so, wouldn’t you? But I honestly don’t know what has got into Clara these days. She isn’t the sister I grew up with, believe me! She is nagging, moaning at me every time I wish to do something she disagrees with. Honestly, if I let her have her own way, she would have me in Dorset never showing my face in public!”
“Family members can sometimes be a little over zealous when dealing with someone close.”
“Well, my sister would be at the top of the pile, believe me! I wish she would marry; she could nag her husband and leave me be!”
“I could help if you like,” Edmund offered, swirling the brandy in its glass and watching Charles. His tone of voice was that of a friend willing to help, of someone who could be trusted.
“Would you?” Charles asked in surprise. “She might not take too kindly to you. I’ve never had a problem with her being rude to friends before, but she certainly doesn’t like Shambles and makes no secret of it. If you met, she could take you in dislike and would have no compunction in showing her feelings to you. Shambles gets very angry at the way she speaks to him.”
The little fool, Edmund thought grimly to himself. She hates Shambles and showed it to Charles. That was a guaranteed way to secure the friendship; he was a child, reacting in the way he would against a strict parent. “I shall take the risk.”
“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Charles said with a shrug.
“I’m sure she will be a lovely dancing companion and, while she is dancing with me, she can’t be watching you,” Edmund said easily.
“It would certainly be a start. I sometimes feel her eyes never leave me, although I don’t know why she is so hawk like; Shambles isn’t invited to lots of the parties she attends.”
“Is he in trade?” Edmund asked innocently.
“No, just a gentleman fallen on hard times,” Charles said in defence of his friend. In reality he had no idea of Joshua’s background, apart from when Joshua taunted Charles about his upbringing.
“There are a lot of those around,” Edmund said sympathetically. “Are you attending the Stamford’s ball tonight?”
“No,” Charles replied and had the good grace to look shamefaced. “I was supposed to be; I’ve sent a reply in the affirmative but, after yet another argument with my sister, I’m refusing to go. I doubt she will go without my escort.”
“Not to worry! I was going to ask for two dances; that is all. Would you mind if I called on you both tomorrow?”
“That would be smashing. She might even have calmed down by then!” Charles said hopefully.
*
Clara had not attended the Stamford’s party the previous evening; she had not been able to face it. Not one for maudlin moods, she really was at a loss as to what to do about Charles. She went through morning visits with little enjoyment. She had not seen or heard from him; she was not even sure he had returned home at all. Something had to happen to improve matters between them, but Clara had no idea what was required.
She was seated with Milly, both trying to concentrate on needlework, the result being that Clara sighed more than she sewed as her mind mulled over what Charles was doing when they were interrupted by a footman.
“Miss Baker, the Earl of Chertsey wishes to pay his respects,” the footman said.
“Lord Chertsey? Has he asked for my brother?” Clara asked.
“He asked for you both, Miss, but on explaining that my master was not at home, he expressed the desire to see yourself.”
“I see. Please show him in,” Clara said, laying aside her needlework.
“Do you know Lord Chertsey?” Milly asked.
“No,” Clara replied. “It must be through some acquaintance with Charles that he is here, although Charles has never mentioned anything.” Clara was not surprised; Charles told her less and less these days.
The gentleman was shown into the drawing room. The moment he walked into the room Clara froze; she knew immediately he was the same man who had been her protector two nights ago. She would have recognised his form anywhere; every part of him was imprinted on her mind. She was reminded of his comment about recognising someone’s mannerisms, and she knew exactly what he meant when she faced him. The way he had walked into the room, the way he held himself, she had dreamed about for the last two nights. She flushed; his lips she remembered more than anything else.
He was dressed to the same exacting standards that he had been at the masked gathering at Mrs Langtree’s. His blue frockcoat was made of the finest mid-blue wool. His silver and pale-blue waistcoat reflected the light. The folds of his white cravat would have made any dandy proud. His hair was curled in the latest style, looking perfectly dishevelled and a little longer than would normally be worn, making Clara long to move it from the back collar of his waistcoat. His breeches fitted snugly; he was obviously a man who partook of many sporting activities from the way his muscles moved as he walked. Gleaming boots finished the outfit to perfection. Here was a man who took pride in his appearance and, from his deportment, he was fully aware of the picture he presented.
Clara suddenly felt underdressed in her pale green-checked muslin day dress, her hair tied in a braid and wound into a bun for comfort rather than style. She would have been slightly reassured to know her heightened colour and sparkling eyes enhanced her looks. Her poise was elegant and graceful, and the dress, although made for practical use, enhanced her slender figure.
Edmund looked at Clara with amusement at her perusal of him as he walked into the room. He realised immediately she had recognised him. He had wondered if she would. His bow was given, and he gave her the flowers he was carrying.
“For you, Miss Baker,” Edmund said with a flourish.
Clara flushed a deep shade of pink. The flowers were reds and yellows, the colours were unusual in a bouquet and had obviously been chosen as a reminder of the red and gold outfit she had worn on the night they met. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Milly, please let me introduce Lord Chertsey. Lord Chertsey, this is my cousin, Miss Millicent Holland.”
“My Lord,” Milly curtsied, shooting Clara a puzzled look but refraining from asking anything while in company.
“Miss Holland,” Edmund bowed.
If Clara had felt overwhelmed by her protector when he was masked, she felt even more in awe now. He was the most handsome man she had ever met. His chestnut hair was curled to perfection, his features were elegant, his eyes a rich brown with surprisingly long lashes for a man. She had noticed his eyes when he was masked, but set in such a handsome face, they seemed to shine at her. His lips ̶ the same lips that had kissed her until her legs had been weak ̶ turned up in a smile that seemed to acknowledge that he knew exactly what she was thinking.