15. Chapter 15

Chapter fifteen

James

A trip into town was not the distraction I had hoped it would be. Though I had succeeded in avoiding Sabrina for the better part of the day, my mind continually turned to Miss Scott, and no amount of shopping or sweets from the local bakers could deter me from thinking on the puzzle she still presented nor how vastly my regard for her was changing. It was unsettling, yet welcome, and excited me about the future in ways I hadn't been in some time.

I had just decided to return to Fallborn when I spotted the familiar bright colors of Gregory's coat and the foppish tilt of his hat as he crossed the street ahead of me with a man, shorter in stature and more robust about the waist, whom I knew to be Gregory's solicitor. Gregory had left early this morning with, in his words, plans to meet with his man of business in town. It had not been my intention to follow him, but I would be lying to say I was not relieved to see him, as he'd claimed, in such a meeting.

The two of them appeared in deep conversation as they strolled along the damp road, and I could not help but wonder how much of their exchange revolved around Gregory's financial situation. Perhaps the man had not been made privy to the estate's current distress given Mr. Perry had provided a path toward forgiving Gregory of all debt, but regardless, there seemed to be some frustration on the solicitor's end.

The two parted ways, but rather than proceed toward the stables, Gregory continued on. It was wrong to make assumptions, I knew, but for some time now, I had the distinct suspicion that Gregory had not ceased his gambling, and the chance I could be correct prodded me to follow him at a distance.

Having spent the last two weeks hiding from Sabrina, I now considered myself an expert in the art of sneakery, and the constant practice would certainly aid me now as I watched Gregory round the corner.

I tugged my hat farther down over my forehead and tucked my chin against my chest. It was unlikely Gregory wouldn't recognize me should he spot me on his tail, but I hope he was too focused on his task to pay me any heed, or at least enough to not take note of who I was.

I peered around the corner of the apothecary and caught sight of Gregory as he checked over his shoulder and then disappeared into The Raven's Arms, an inn nestled in the center of the town. My stomach knotted. I'd kept my suspicions to myself, determined not to confront him without proof, but this? Finding him at a place I knew he'd frequented for cards in the past?

My jaw clenched, and I fought down my irritation as I turned the corner. In front of the door, I hesitated, wondering whether to continue my pursuit or return to Fallborn. While I wanted to call him out, doing so publicly and bringing embarrassment to his family was not what I intended.

Speaking to Gregory on the matter within the walls of his study, away from prying ears, was a safer idea, but would he listen? He had not heeded my warning or kept his promise last time. What assurance did I have that he would do so now? He may even deny his actions.

But he could not deny them if I made my presence known here, if I witnessed his gambling firsthand. I had never stood between Gregory and his games before, but then, my friend had always been more responsible, knowing when to pull away from the tables and end the night with a win. One night with a heavy loss did not mean he had fallen into a losing streak, but as of now, until his debts were forgiven, Gregory could not afford to find out whether Lady Fortune still favored him.

With new resolve, I entered the inn. All I needed to do was catch Gregory's gaze. That would be enough.

I hoped.

The tap room was filled with people this late into the afternoon, many of the locals having an early night cap along with travelers who'd come for miles to take advantage of the healing waters. The town had not been so busy in my youth, but time changed things, and I wondered if one day Cheltenham would become as popular as Bath, drawing visitors from across England and serving as a retreat from London.

My gaze wandered over the faces of men deep in their cups until I found a maid serving one table their dinner. Once she had completed the task, I claimed her attention with the wave of my hand, and she hurried toward me.

"Ye be in need of a room, sir?"

"No, but I would appreciate a game of cards. Would you direct me to the card room?"

She nodded, and I followed her down a long corridor. The boisterous laughter behind me faded only to be replaced by the conversation within the card room. The maid gestured to the open door, and I nodded my thanks, giving her leave to return to her duties.

From where I stood, I could see three gentlemen situated around a circular table, one smoking a pipe and another who beckoned for a servant to fill his empty glass with brandy. While I could not see Gregory, his voice, familiar and unmistakable, confirmed his presence.

I leaned against the wall to better hear their conversation.

"Didn't expect to see you here tonight," said one man, his voice raspy and hard. "Rumor has it you've a hole in the pockets."

"Holes can be patched," Gregory retorted. "I assure you, I'm good for anything we agree upon tonight, though it is not me who will be paying any dues. I intend to win."

"Patched?" The man with the pipe scoffed. "Not what I heard. You owe that Mr. Perry fellow more ‘an a few shillings. Maybe you cannot afford even a single game."

I dared to peer farther around the wall and saw Gregory's fingers curl into a fist beneath the table. "I have ten pounds worth of winnings from last week. After tonight, I'll have at least twenty. Unless you're too afraid to play?"

He lifted one of his brows, goading the man, but I had seen enough. To think that Gregory, and more specifically his mother, could end up destitute, to think I had put myself in a position to suffer Sabrina's company all to help him—and for what? So he could continue to gamble what little money he had left? It lit a fire in me .

I stepped into the room and cleared my throat loud enough the patrons in the dining area likely heard. "Good evening, gentleman."

Gregory's face blanched, and his throat bobbed with a swallow. "Emerson, fancy seeing you here."

"Fancy, yes." I stepped toward them, and the man with the pipe eyed me curiously.

"Don't believe I've seen you here before. Roger Hemnick." He stood and offered me a handshake. I obliged, stating my title, and he returned to his seat. "Here to visit the spa?"

"No, I am here to keep a friend from doing something he knows he should not." I planted my attention on Gregory, who had the decency to tint red. Good. Perhaps embarrassing him a little was the key to putting some sense into his thick head.

"I knew it," said Mr. Hemnick. "Holes in the pocket. Can't afford a single round, hey, Davis? Your friend has let the cat out of the bag."

I shrugged, even as Mr. Hemnick watched me for further confirmation. "It is not my business to know the state of his pockets; however, I do know his mother expects him home for dinner. Given he is hosting a house party, I would not wish to be the recipient of her ire should she discover he has neglected his guests in favor of cards."

"A house party! Well, now, I would never have wagered that you were one for entertaining, Davis." Mr. Hemnick sucked on his pipe for a moment and released several puffs of smoke before continuing. "Must not be too destitute if you can afford the company of an earl."

My teeth ground together as I fought the urge to refute his insinuation that I would only spend time with people if they could afford me , but for Gregory's sake, it was better that Mr. Hemnick believed he still held reasonable wealth.

Better for everyone at the table to believe it. The rest of the men were watching the interaction with curious gazes, though they said nothing.

"Gregory does me a great service for the invitation," I said with a forced smile. It was the furthest thing from the truth, and he was going to owe me a great debt for saying so since he seemed incapable of obliging my one request for staying.

Gregory cleared his throat and stood. He straightened his coat and threw on a charming grin. "Well, gents, as much as I hate to quit our fun before it has even begun, I must return to Fallborn. As Lord Emerson has stated, I do have guests to attend to."

"Sounds like an excuse," muttered Mr. Hemnick. "Afraid you'll lose?"

Gregory tilted his head, his expression rendering what I knew was faux regret. "Afraid I'll lose my head more than my money. You have not met my mother, I presume?"

To this, Mr. Hemnick merely grunted. Whether that was in acknowledgement of having not met Gregory's mother or understanding Gregory might, indeed, run the risk of being whacked over the head by the woman for skipping dinner, I could not say. Either way, it provided us with the opportunity to slip away.

Gregory joined me and together we exited the room in silence. It took a great deal of self restraint not to descend into a verbal lashing he would not soon forget, but I would hold my tongue until we rode out of town and were on our way to Fallborn. I'd done well not to make a scene in front of the men; it would not do to lose my temper now.

"I'll need to fetch my horse," said Gregory. "It's in the stables."

"Yes."

Gregory did not respond to my cold reply, and we weaved through the tap room, past a rather confused-looking maid, who was surely wondering why I was leaving so soon if I'd meant to play cards. And taking another patron with me, no less.

We were nearly to the door when another man entered the establishment. My jaw immediately dropped, as I recognized him straight away as the Duke of Rochester, the very man I'd sent a letter to days ago. I'd known it would take some time for my missive to reach him, longer yet for him to respond—assuming he obliged to do so at all—but to see him here, in Cheltenham, was the last thing I'd expected.

"Your Grace." I bowed to him in greeting. We were not well acquainted, but we had spent time in the same circles in London before he had inherited the duchy. Samuel Stafford was, to my knowledge, an honest man, if not a little arrogant at times.

"Lord Emerson, Mr. Davis." The duke nodded once in greeting. "I confess I did not expect to see anyone I'm acquainted with here."

"We share that surprise," I said, noting Gregory also seemed confounded by the man's sudden appearance. "Mine is deepened further by the fact that I sent a letter to your country home in Kent not a week ago. "

The man tilted his head curiously. "To me? I have not been at my country estate in nigh on three weeks now. I paid a visit to a close cousin here in Gloucestershire and intended to go on to London. We may speak now if it was of great import."

"If it would not inconvenience you, that would be most obliging," I said and then shifted my attention to Gregory with a lifted brow. "You should return to Fallborn."

I might have asked Gregory to join us, as I would relay whatever information the duke offered to my friend later anyway, but should any of the gentlemen spot Gregory still within the pub after our narrow escape, it would create more rumors about Gregory's financial state. As much as I wanted to teach him a lesson, I would not drag his family name through the mud.

Gregory nodded. "I shall see you back at Fallborn, then." He turned to leave but paused to meet my gaze over his shoulder. "You will return, won't you?"

Me staying at Fallborn had come with a single condition, a condition Gregory had just broken. Perhaps had broken more than once. But I had no desire to leave Fallborn yet, and I realized that assisting Gregory and his mother were now only part of that resolve.

"I will return shortly."

Gregory looked nothing short of relieved. "I will be in my study."

There was a certain despondency to his tone, like a child who had been caught in bad behavior and fully expected to be reprimanded. Sympathy pricked at me, but I would not show it, not until I was certain Gregory learned something from the situation. He had made a promise, but I'd requested his abstinence from gambling for his own benefit. For his mother's, too. I had no wish to see either of them destitute.

"In your study before dinner," I answered.

The duke did not speak again until Gregory had gone, requesting the same maid I'd spoken to earlier to direct us to a private parlor. The woman promised to return with tea as we sat down, closing the door behind her.

"Mr. Davis seemed contrite when he left," said the duke. "I couldn't help but notice."

"Let us leave the explanation to simply: I came here with the intent of saving my friend from both the card room and himself. "

"Ah," the duke nodded, his lips pulled in an understanding grimace. "I take your meaning. Mr. Davis is widely known to live in card rooms on occasion."

"Indeed. I hope that will change."

The maid returned with refreshments, and I waited for her to take leave of us before addressing the duke again. "What brings you to Cheltenham? A cousin, you say?"

The duke's eyes narrowed, and he seemed to consider me for a moment. "A cousin is the excuse I give, but I was visiting my betrothed. There were some matters I wished to inform her of—rumors I hoped to stamp out before our return to London." He took a drink from his teacup. "Before our nuptials."

My heart pounded. Given Gregory's revelation that there was little rumor circulating about the duke at present that didn't involve his impending marriage or Sabrina, his statement could only be in reference to the latter.

"That happened to be the subject of my letter," I said and quickly continued when the duke's brows lifted in surprise. "Not that I've heard much of anything. In fact, I was hoping for clarification, as it seems we share a common…botheration."

That was putting it lightly, but until I had a better idea of where the duke stood on Sabrina's character, I would not reveal my entire hand. She was, after all, legally the duke's stepmother.

"A common botheration," the duke repeated. I hesitated to answer, and before I could convince myself to continue, understanding dawned on his expression. "You refer to Her Grace—my father's wife. The former Miss Perry?"

"Yes. I'm not certain if you are aware of our past relationship, but it would seem that she suddenly wishes to rekindle it. I am quite at a loss as to why she would want this given her newly acquired title and wealth. Truthfully, I hoped you might provide me with some insight."

The duke settled back into the chair. His expression had softened with my explanation, which did give me grounds for hope. If he was forthcoming in any information at all, it could prove useful.

The duke studied me for a moment. "If I am to offer you insight, then I must request your discretion. I do not wish word of Sabrina's actions to become fodder for gossip. You know as well as I how easily rumors can contort. Such information could impact myself, and more importantly, my betrothed. I do not wish to put the woman I love under fire in the columns."

"You have my word," I said. "I've no desire for that either."

The duke nodded once, seemingly satisfied with my answer. "Before we begin, I would like to understand what you want. Would you court her again?"

I scoffed before I could think better of the reaction, and the duke chuckled. "I suppose that answers my question."

"I loved the woman once, but it is now clear to me that my sentiments were never returned."

My brows furrowed, and for the first time, I questioned my past regard for Sabrina. Had I loved her? I'd believed so at the time, attributing my attraction and enamored blunders to love. But what if I was wrong? What if I'd experienced infatuation and not the deep sort of connection I wanted? Wouldn't I have recognized Sabrina's lack of affection, her false declarations for what they were, if I had truly been in love?

Perhaps not. Many a poet claimed love to be blind. Regardless of how true my affection had been, it had placed a veil over my eyes.

"If Her Grace is, as you say, hoping to rekindle something between the two of you," said the duke, "then you have my sincerest sympathies. Especially if you've no desire for her attention. As for your questions, I will give you the truth of the matter bluntly. I hold no love for the woman. I did not approve of her marriage to my father and certainly did nothing to encourage her attention to me after his death." His expression twisted into a fierce scowl. "Her attempts became so persistent, I had her removed to the dower house."

At one point in my life, this revelation would have shocked me. Now, it only increased the bitterness growing in my chest. So, it was true. Sabrina had attempted to seduce the new duke. By law, she could not marry him, but as his mistress, she would ensure a life of comfort, even one with connections. But that did not answer all of my questions. "Why did she feel the need to force her attention upon you? She holds a title. And surely there were junctures in the marriage agreements for her security?"

"You assume too much. Her father was a businessman whose objective was to further his profits through connection. He cared little for his daughter and made very few requests in regards to her during their negotiations. After my father's death, she was left with nothing but a title and the pittance that was her dowry, which totals a few thousand pounds. That was not enough for her. She could live off the sum for some time, but it would require economizing in a way the duchess opposes. Heaven forbid she have fewer servants attending to her every whim.

"She did not appreciate having her things removed from the main house. She persisted in her efforts, going as far as attempting to seduce me in my study late one night. That consumed the last of my patience, and I threatened to expose her actions to the ton . Threat of ruin is the only thing that put an end to it all. She left the dower house without word of where she intended to go. I was, in short, rather relieved."

"She went to London for a time," I said. "Until she contrived a way to lure me to a house party here in Gloucester. She ran back to me." To my money.

I had suspected Sabrina's attention came only to achieve some goal and nothing to do with any affection for me, but it still stung. That she saw me as something she could simply use to get what she wanted reignited my anger. Would I ever be free of the woman? Would she ever cease upending my life?

"It seems so," said the duke. "I am sorry that my actions have pushed her back into your corner, but I also cannot regret it. I am engaged, and Her Grace could not be made to see reason."

I shook my head. "No apology necessary. None of it is your fault, and I have already made my intentions clear, but she is too stubborn to listen. To either of us, it would seem." I stood and gave a deep bow. "Thank you for confiding in me, Your Grace. Having clarity on the matter will help."

The duke nodded but made no effort to stand. "I wish you luck, Lord Emerson. If she has, as you have suggested, set her cap on you again, it may take more than a few harsh words to put her off." He paused for a moment, tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair. "However, should you find it necessary, you may utilize what I've told you today to establish your own threats. I only ask that you part with the information discreetly."

"You have my word." Just like the duke, I had no desire to see anyone ruined, despite how much Sabrina had hurt me, but having the information in my arsenal served to nourish my hope that one day I might be truly free of her schemes.

I left the duke and the inn behind, retrieving Atlas from the stables before riding back to Fallborn. I would meet with Gregory in his study and tell him all I'd learned, in addition to discussing his broken promise, but it was not his company I wished for, not his ears I most wanted to fill with my discoveries.

Miss Scott would understand the value of the duke's confession and, as my ally, help me decide how best to use the information. Such a conversation would require privacy, and I found the idea of spending time with her, unshadowed by Sabrina's presence, a rewarding prospect.