Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Lord Fitzroy's lodgings were in an unfashionable part of town, and as the carriage pulled up outside, Edmund pulled down the window to look out at the dilapidated building matching the address on the card he had in his hand.

No wonder he needed the money, Edmund thought to himself as he opened the compartment door and climbed down onto the street, instructing the carriage driver to wait for him.

"I won't be long," Edmund said, and the driver nodded.

"Very good, my lord," he said, tipping his hat.

The street was quiet, the buildings—once handsome—had fallen into disrepair, and the road was dirty, clogged with mud and rubbish. The windows of Lord Fitzroy's lodgings were grimy, half-shuttered, and with curtains pulled across inside the glass. Edmund made his way up the steps and knocked. His contact at Lord Fitzroy's club had assured him the errant aristocrat would be at home at this time, and the door was now opened by a servant—a young valet of perhaps sixteen or seventeen—who looked at Edmund suspiciously.

"Can I help you?" he asked as Edmund presented his card.

"I'm here to see His Lordship. I'll wait if he's otherwise engaged," Edmund said, stepping over the threshold before the servant could answer.

"I'll tell His Lordship," the boy replied.

Edmund looked around him with interest. The hallway was shabby. Paper was peeling from the walls, and old, rickety pieces of furniture were arranged without care—a table in the center, two chairs, one with its leg broken, and a small bookcase containing a number of dusty volumes. A narrow staircase led up to a landing above, where a grimy window let in a small amount of light. It was hardly palatial, and if Edmund had needed any further proof of his suspicions as to the parlous state of Lord Fitzroy's' finances, this was it.

"I presume he's home?" Edmund asked when the servant returned a few moments later.

"His Lordship will see you," the boy said, in a tone that did not match his grubby waistcoat and ill-fitting breeches.

He led Edmund along a narrow corridor to a door at the far end, knocking before entering and announcing Edmund from his calling card. Edmund waited for the customary summons but entered the room to find Lord Fitzroy standing by the hearth. The room was similarly furnished to the hallway, with a dusty Persian rug covering the floorboards and odd pieces of furniture scattered here and there. The remnants of a meal lay on a table by the hearth, where a fire was burning, and a number of questionable political periodicals lay scattered on the floor, suggesting Edmund had interrupted the aristocrat from some seditious pastime. Lord Fitzroy smiled.

"And what honor do I owe a visit from the Earl of Beaumont? You can leave us, Charlie. I'll call for you if I need you," Lord Fitzroy said, dismissing the servant with a wave of his hand.

The door was closed, and Edmund and Lord Fitzroy were left alone.

"I want to talk to you about what happened at the masquerade ball," Edmund said, and Lord Fitzroy laughed.

"Do you need evidence for the annulment?" he asked, offering Edmund a drink from a decanter of brandy on a table at the side of the hearth.

"I won't, thank you. And no. There's to be no annulment," Edmund replied.

"Oh, come off it. Your wife doesn't love you. If she did, she'd hardly have thrown herself at me. Would she? I couldn't keep her away from me. I'm sure what you're doing is very honorable, Edmund...my lord...but you mustn't worry about her. She'll be well provided for. I wouldn't leave her bereft. She's a very attractive woman," he said, smirking at Edmund, who clenched his fists in anger, even as he knew he had to remain calm.

Lord Fitzroy was testing him—pushing him to see how far he would go.

"There's nothing honorable about it. We both know the truth behind it. You were part of the conspiracy. Wilhelmina and Lavinia put you up to it. How much did they offer you?" Edmund demanded.

Lord Fitzroy narrowed his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, looking suddenly uncomfortable.

"I know about your debts. It wasn't difficult to discover you owe money to a dozen creditors, and that there's a black mark against your name at the club for gambling beyond your means. And look at this place. If it wasn't for your title, you'd have nothing. No...I know all about you, and I know Lavinia and her mother paid you handsomely for what you did on the night of the masquerade. But what else did they promise you? Johanna's hand in marriage after I'd annulled our own? Is that it?" Edmund said, looking pointedly at Lord Fitzroy, who faltered.

"I owe money—what of it? You can't prove anything. Besides, it's not me who's to blame. I assure you your wife didn't try very hard to resist me," he said.

Edmund now saw red, and he lunged forward, ready to strike the man if he continued his vein of insult.

"I won't hear such things said about my wife. I love her, and I know she loves me, too," he snarled.

Lord Fitzroy shrugged, regaining something of his composure, as though he thought he again had the upper hand.

"Well, it hardly matters, does it? It's what others think that counts. Your reputation, your wife's reputation, your family's reputation...it all lies in ruins. The name of Beaumont is a disgrace. You can believe what your wife says. But if you persist in your marriage, you'll only be a laughingstock," he said.

"And if I don't care about being a laughingstock? If I tell you I love my wife and married her for the very fact of it?" Edmund retorted.

"Then I wouldn't believe you," Lord Fitzroy replied.

"And why did you do what you did? I know Johanna didn't realize what she was doing. She didn't throw herself at you like some...well, I won't say the word. Why can't you do the honorable thing and admit the reasons for what you did? Look at this place. It's obvious to anyone, isn't it? I say it again, you wanted money," Edmund said.

Lord Fitzroy smiled. "Prove it," he replied.

Edmund glared at him. He would gladly have struck the errant aristocrat or challenged him to a duel. It was a matter of honor. Of Edmund's honor and that of Johanna, too. Edmund knew Lord Fitzroy had the upper hand—as did Lavinia and her mother. But he had not come to Lord Fitzroy's house to leave empty-handed.

"I can't. But what if I offered you something better?" Edmund replied.

Lord Fitzroy narrowed his eyes.

"I'm listening," he replied.

"You're a pawn in Lavinia's game. Perhaps I can't prove it, but you are. She's using you, just as she uses everyone. She's a jealous, manipulative creature, and her mother only encourages her. They're not interested in you. They only care about breaking the marriage between Johanna and I, believing—entirely erroneously—that I would fall into her arms. They offered you Johanna as a prize. But she doesn't want you. You'll be the laughingstock once she's finished with you. Mark my words," Edmund said.

His passions were rising. He felt the injustice of what had happened, and the pain it had caused both him and Johanna. Lavinia only cared about herself, and Edmund intended to do all he could to stop her from gaining the advantage. Lord Fitzroy looked suddenly perturbed.

"It was only a bit of fun. I don't know why you're so concerned about it. It'll all blow over," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"I think I'll have that drink after all," Edmund said, nodding toward the decanter.

Lord Fitzroy poured him a glass, smiling as he handed it to him.

"Tell me what advantage I can gain by listening to your proposal," he said, and Edmund now took a deep breath.

"You might've heard the Beaumont Dinner was canceled. Well, I still intend to have it, and I want you to be there," he replied, downing the glass of brandy in one gulp as he began to explain his plan.