Chapter Ten

Henry jerked awake and took a moment or two to recall where he was.

Of course, he thought grimly. I’m home.

Home had never had the warm, safe connotations for the Willenshire siblings that it did for others. Home was shouting, home was mind games and taut family dinners, home was unrealistic expectations and a father who seemed to take joy in making his children squirm.

Home was, in short, not somewhere you would want to be. It was the reason why, even after the old Duke was gone, Henry had spent money he could ill afford to rent himself an apartment.

He gradually pieced together the shattered remnants of last night, and recalled stumbling into the family carriage, cursing himself for coming on horseback, and falling asleep in the carriage. The footmen must have manhandled him out of the carriage and up to his childhood bedroom.

How humiliating.

They’re probably used to Alexander, he comforted himself.

It didn’t really help.

Hauling himself into a sitting position, Henry squeezed his eyes shut against the throb of pain in his temples. Ugh. He’d drunk too much champagne and wine last night, but it had been necessary to get himself through the night.

His feet hurt, because once they’d gone back inside the ballroom, both of them were swamped with ladies and their mammas, and there was really nothing to do but allow oneself to be bullied into dance after dance.

Henry’s conversation with his older brother still rang in his head.

I want to be in love, Henry.

There was something unsettling about the stoic, serious William speaking so miserably, so yearningly. Henry had never known that his brother had dreams of a love-match. It made their current situation even more unfair .

William had always been the one to make sacrifices. How often had he confessed to something he hadn’t done when they were children, to get one of his siblings out of trouble? As the oldest boy and the heir, William had taken the brunt of their father’s cruelty.

“I’m making a man out of you,” the old Duke had said, more times than Henry could count.

I hope he’s burning in Hell, the old wretch, Henry thought, with a venomous rush of anger that left him shaking. He stole our lives away, and I bet he laughed as he did it.

But there was no point sitting in bed and wallowing. The clock read half past nine, so the family was probably sitting down to breakfast now. Henry felt queasy, and his head still throbbed, but he knew from past experience that a nice cup of tea and a plateful of breakfast would do him good.

Besides, it would be nice to eat something cooked up in the family kitchen, by the reliable old family cook, instead of the rubbery eggs poor Edward served up every now and then.

So, Henry threw back the sheets and forced himself to get out of bed, then began the laborious task of dressing for the day.

“Morning, all,” Henry mumbled, when he stepped into the dining room.

The Dowager was there – she’d always come down to breakfast instead of taking hers in bed, as the old Duke had disapproved of taking breakfast in bed – and so were the rest of them. Even Katherine had stayed over last night, although her poor husband was nowhere to be seen. No doubt last night’s socializing had wrung him out, and he was in the library recovering.

“Morning,” William remarked, eyes on his boiled egg.

It was going to be that kind of morning, then. Henry muttered something that could be taken for good morning , and then slipped into his usual seat.

Odd that they left it free for him, after all this time.

For a few moments, the family ate in silence. Everybody was here, with the exception of Timothy and, of course, Alexander. Henry longed to ask what state his younger brother was in, but not in front of their mother. The Dowager, it seemed, was pretending that her family was not falling apart like a soggy sponge-cake, and instead continued to venerate the memory of the old Duke, imagining that her children loved him as she did.

Henry wasn’t going to be the one to burst her bubble once and for all.

His unspoken question was answered soon, anyway. There was a crashing sound from the hall, making them all jump, followed by an all-too-familiar voice.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, curse you!” Alexander slurred; voice muffled but still sounding irritated. Henry’s heart sank.

He’s still drunk.

The door was shouldered open, flinging open with a bang, and Alexander came staggering in. His eyes were glittering and there were red spots burning in his cheeks, and Henry’s heart sank.

“Morning, all,” Alexander said, grinning drowsily around. “I hope you all enjoyed last night as much as I did.”

“That’s generally a sign that the Notes Acknowledging Debts will start rolling in soon,” William muttered, voice low so that his mother couldn’t hear.

“I danced just about every dance,” Alexander continued, scooping a massive ladleful of scrambled eggs on his plate. “It was thrilling. I saw you two dancing, too,” he gestured to his older brothers with a spoon, scattering egg over the tablecloth. Katherine winced and made a vain attempt to snatch the spoon back.

“Dancing? Yes, we danced,” Henry said, trying to catch William’s eye. Drunk at breakfast was really going too far. Was Alexander like this often? Had Henry just missed it, because he’d chosen to strike out on his own and get his own apartments? A niggle of guilt opened up in his stomach.

“So, the way I see it,” Alexander continued, oblivious to the glares thrown his way, “William is going to marry that dapper little widow, Lady Victoria, and you, Henry, you’re going to marry Miss Eleanor Fairfax.”

The atmosphere tightened. Henry sucked in a breath, and William paled. Katherine mumbled, “Oh, Lord,” and let her head fall into her hands.

The Dowager put down her knife and fork, frowning .

“Miss Eleanor Fairfax? That grubby little tradesman’s daughter? I think not, Henry. I have high hopes of dear Henry making a match with Miss Sophia Redford.”

She shot an encouraging look at Henry, and he swallowed hard.

Then there was a moment of silence which seemed to stretch out forever, broken in the end by William tossing his napkin onto the table and getting to his feet.

“Will? You haven’t finished your breakfast,” Katherine managed, blinking anxiously at him.

William shook his head. “I’m not hungry. Excuse me, everyone.”

***

Most gentlemen preferred White’s as a club, and membership there was more or less mandatory. Henry did have a membership to White’s, but preferred Barrett’s, a smaller club just down the road.

There was less chance of running into his brothers there, at the very least. The place was smaller and darker, the card stakes were higher, the liquor a little stronger. There were a greater variety of nationalities here, which Henry preferred – occasionally he’d had an opportunity to practice his French or Italian. There were, however, a few gentlemen here who didn’t really merit the title of gentleman.

Henry arrived shortly after luncheon, once he’d untangled himself from his family, and breathed in a sigh of relief when he stepped into the club. He sucked in a breath – a smoky, heavily fragranced breath – and looked around for his friend.

A gaggle of men were leaning over a lopsided card table, the green baize scratched up and worn. A few other gentlemen sat alone or in pairs, tucked away in the alcoves which dotted the club, allowing for all the privacy one might wish.

Henry spotted Percy at the other end of the room, waving eagerly to him.

“How are you doing, old boy?” Percy chuckled, pushing a glass of brandy towards him. “Recovered from last night?”

“Oh, mostly. I’m not sure my feet have, though. ”

Percy shook his head at this. “Has Miss Redford and her mamma called on you yet?”

Henry stiffened. “No? Why would she?”

“It was pretty clear they had their eye on you, Henry. Take care. You know how easily a gentleman can become entrapped.”

Henry groaned. “It’s all I need. Dodging some fool girl and her mother, thinking I’d make a good husband.”

Percy shrugged. “Well, you seemed to like Miss Fairfax well enough. Your esteemed mamma did not, though. You should have seen the black look on her face when she saw you dancing with her.”

“She called Miss Fairfax a grubby little tradesman’s daughter. I ought to have reminded her that I intend to go into business with that tradesman. And his daughter.”

“It’s an odd thing, though,” Percy acknowledged. “A woman, in business.”

“As far as I can tell, Miss Fairfax manages admirably.”

“Well, that’s as it may be,” Percy said, with the air of somebody wanting to change the subject. “What about William, then? Is he on the brink of taking a Duchess for himself, do you think?”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly guess. I don’t like to concern myself with what my siblings do – it’s easier that way.”

“I’m sure,” Percy commented, shaking his head. “You’re an ungrateful wretch. All these fine matches your mother pushes your way, and you don’t even bother to try. Shocking, I say.”

“Give over. I know I ought to marry, but…” Henry trailed off, shaking his head. Percy knew about the will, and the predicament the Willenshire siblings found themselves in. Just like William had had to confide his friend, the very same Timothy Rutherford who was now married to Katherine, Henry had found himself in need of somebody to speak to. Percy was discreet, and it was pleasant to have somebody who knew just how vile the old Duke could be, how unreasonable and unloving.

It didn’t change things, but it made them better, somehow.

“How long do you have left? I heard that…” Percy trailed off, eyes darting over Henry’s shoulder. The back of his neck prickled, and Henry turned to find a tallish man standing behind him .

The man was ordinary-looking, with black hair turning a delicate grey at the temples, and a neatly trimmed beard. His clothes were expensive, but worn scruffily, hanging on him as if they’d been tailored for somebody else. In places, Henry spotted neat lines of darning, and even a button missing from the waistcoat.

“I know you, don’t I?” the man drawled, with the bleary-eyed slur of a man drunk at noon.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the pleasure of your acquaintance,” Henry responded tautly.

“Hm. Well, I know who you are – Lord Henry Willenshire. I’m Lord Richard Grenville. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

He extended his hand, and when Henry took it, Lord Richard gripped it tight and hauled him close.

“We’re both second sons, you and me,” he said, voice low and conspiratorial. His breath stunk of whiskey. “Got to make our own way in the world, while our luckier siblings have all the fun, eh?”

Henry pulled his hand free. “I’m afraid that hasn’t been my experience, sir,” he answered frostily. “Was there something you wanted?”

The other good thing about Barrett’s, besides the fact it was quieter, was that there were fewer rules. If one wanted to cut somebody, one could. One could be fairly rude and not risk being thrown out.

In this situation, however, it did not work. Lord Richard chuckled, sagging against the counter, and gestured for the footman to bring him a drink. Henry noticed the footman’s mouth tightening, and he reluctantly turned to obey.

“Sour-faced wretches they are here,” Lord Richard observed, eyeing the footman’s turned back. “You’d think they’d allow a gentleman a longer line of credit, wouldn’t you? But no, nothing but complaints. I’m fairly sick of it.”

“Why not go to another club?” Percy piped up.

Henry bit the inside of his cheek. He would have bet money that Lord Richard wasn’t permitted at most of the other clubs. Barrett’s had famously low standards .

“I like it here,” Lord Richard said, grin widening. He jerked his head back in the direction of the card table. “Stakes are higher. I like that – got to make it worth my while, you see?”

Percy frowned, and Henry cursed his friend’s naivete.

“Well, aren’t you missing your turn?”

Lord Richard tilted his head. “I’m not playing anymore.”

“Oh,” Percy finally seemed to get the hint, and sagged a little in his seat. Henry glanced over at the card table and didn’t fail to notice the looks the other men were shooting at Lord Richard. Suspicious, angry looks. He spotted a little pile of notes – Notes Acknowledging Debts, of course, he’d seen plenty of Alexander’s Notes Acknowledging Debts to recognize the little notes at a glance – which Lord Richard should really have taken with him.

I wonder how much he lost today.

“Do you play?” Lord Richard asked suddenly, making Henry flinch. “Cards, or whist, or whatever. Do you have a game?”

Henry smiled tightly, showing no teeth. “I’m not one for cards. Or gambling in general. I’ll sit down to a few hands of something tame with my mother, if she insists, but I prefer to use my money on more profitable endeavours.”

Lord Richard let out a hoot of laughter, so loud it made several men nearby startle and turn to glare at them.

“Of course, of course, how could I forget! You, Lord Henry, are sniffing around the Fairfax business!”

A cold chill ran down Henry’s spine. “With all due respect, I’m not sure what concern that is of yours, sir.”

Lord Richard was unfazed. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

“What a small world it is, eh? Fairfax. Perhaps you’re the sort of gentleman who likes the idea of business, but never wants to get his hands dirty. I’ve seen a lot of them like that. Second sons, not cut out for the army or the clergy, not willing to marry somebody suitable and settle down to producing spare heirs. They like the idea of becoming a self-made man and rubbing their older brother’s nose in it. Making more money than him, perhaps. Becoming somebody . Somebody other than the spare. That was the saying, wasn’t it? A family needed two boys – an heir and a spare, just in case. You and I are spares, Lord Henry, and now we find ourselves at a loose end. ”

The footman reappeared with a glass of brandy, and watched disapprovingly as Lord Richard tossed it back. Henry drew himself up, catching Percy’s eye.

“That might be your experience, Lord Richard,” he said stiffly, “but it’s not mine. I do hope you find yourself on better terms with your older brother soon. I can’t say I’m acquainted with him.”

“He’s a baronet in Scotland,” Lord Richard said dreamily. “And I know yours, naturally. The Duke of Dunleigh. Quite a title to hold.”

“And quite a responsibility,” Henry shot back. “Not one I envy. It was good to meet you, Lord Richard. Do excuse us.”

They beat a retreat before Lord Richard could say anything in reply, but when Henry glanced back over his shoulder, the man was still standing there, twirling his empty brandy glass between his fingers, watching them.