Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Conversation wound through the gentlemen's club, accompanied by smoke and good wine. Ernest had spent the entire week agitated and reeling. The last few days had been spent tensely. Lady Florence was refusing to speak to either Ernest or Miss Gundry, and although he had tried to reach out to her in a softer manner than their argument had been, she was giving nothing back.

So, he had taken to the gentlemen's club in Bath, determined to find something.

He had not been there before, but as soon as he'd entered, he could not help picturing his cousin and uncle in there, spending their afternoons discussing prospects and the new Seasons, gossiping in that manner that Ernest found almost as bad as how the women did.

"A man named Victor, you are asking for?" one of the patrons asked him as he sat at a table by the window.

"Yes," Ernest answered. "He has a scar across his mouth."

"If I may ask, My Lord, why are you looking for him?"

"I do not wish to give details," he answered sharply. "Only to seek his presence."

"I do not know of any ‘Victor'. If you had a family name, he would be easier to track down."

"Indeed," Ernest muttered.

All his conversations had gone similarly. Nobody knew of anyone with only the name Victor, and as Ernest had no family name to identify him further, it was hard for anyone to give any leads. He grew more desperate as the afternoon wore on. He went from table-to-table, talking with patrons, asking questions, buying rounds in the hopes that other men might share stories and he'd catch something of use.

He sighed and sat alone once again, awaiting Graham's return. He had informed his friend of what had happened that night, and he'd immediately offered to help him track down Victor. Ernest spotted him, laughing with a crowd of young men. He always fitted into these scenes so easily. Ernest had a harder time, feeling as though he constantly had one foot in Society and one foot out of it.

He supposed that was true.

How had Matthew, his cousin, and his Uncle George behaved here? Were they well-liked? Did they talk amongst others or keep to themselves? What did they discuss? He suddenly felt as though he had missed out on a lot more than he realized. Clearly, they had been admirable men. Lady Florence made clear the other night that Ernest differed from them.

"Ernest," Graham said, finally coming back to his side, breaking him out of his doubtful thoughts. "I come bearing good news. That fellow over there, a Mr Worthington, owns his own club in the next town, and he knows everyone and everything. He has heard of a Lord Victor who matches your description. He is a year older than Lady Florence and is the youngest son of the Marquess of Tuberville. His older son, Lord Simon, is the heir to the estate and ten years older than Lord Victor."

"I do not care for the brother," Ernest said impatiently. "What more of Lord Victor?"

"You should care for the brother," Graham insisted. "For he is hosting a salon in a nearby art gallery this very afternoon."

"Now?" Ernest sprung up. "Well, then, what are we waiting for?"

The two of them headed out of the gentlemen's club, with Graham calling to a few friendly patrons before they attended the art gallery. They stayed at the back of the exhibition, watching their host, Lord Simon, who presented the salon with patience and confidence.

His hair was dark and curling around his face, his smile bright, and his eyes full of knowledge as he spoke about art. Ernest tried to tamper down his anger once again.

He is not the culprit, he told himself.

But as they approached Simon at the end of the salon, he struggled to keep himself composed.

"Good afternoon," Lord Simon called out. "I noticed you in the back of the crowd. I hope my display was up to the tastes of the new Lord Bannerdown."

Ernest raised a brow. "You know of me?"

"Quite," he answered. "You were the talk of town for the former Lord Bannerdown was quite well-liked. We discussed his heir frequently. And Mr Graham Courtenay, your reputation, of course, precedes you. You have done remarkable things in honour of our fallen men."

Graham nodded and smiled tightly at Lord Simon. "Thank you for your kind words. We are here on some personal matters, actually. Some rather … delicate personal matters."

Ernest stepped forward. "Do you have a younger brother named Lord Victor?"

"I do." Lord Simon's brow creased. "Oh, heavens. What has he done now?"

"Now?" Ernest prompted.

"He… He gets himself into trouble sometimes. He is rather free-spirited, you see."

"Free-spirited enough to compromise a young woman's reputation?" Ernest asked. "I apologize for the accusation. I do not know for sure if it is your brother whom I caught with my cousin a week ago. But I believe he is the culprit from the glimpses I saw. From his character, do you believe he could be culpable?"

Lord Simon grimaced, nodding. "I will admit my brother is a rather hedonistic fool and is very … relaxed when it comes to being honourable, especially with young women. If he is chasing your cousin, then unfortunately, she is not the first, nor the only one, I imagine." He winced. "I apologize for the bluntness, but my brother does have his ways. I have tried to guide him better, but he is rather stubborn."

"I only wish not to have my cousin's reputation ruined before she enters Society, for she has not even debuted."

"Goodness," Lord Simon muttered. "I apologize for him, Lord Bannerdown. I shall put in a word with my brother, uncover the truth, and write to you. Thank you for bringing his actions to my attention." He nodded sincerely, and Ernest shook his head.

"Thank you for cooperating," he said. "And I apologize for approaching you so informally."

"Do not worry." His Lordship smiled. "Excuse me, I must be going." He left, and Ernest and Graham made to do the same. As they headed outside, Ernest to his carriage and Graham to return to the club, Graham stopped him before he climbed inside.

"Ernest." Graham paused, cutting a fine figure against the snowy street behind him. "Have you heard more from Lady Samantha? I'm wondering if we should meet with her again soon. Your mother was quite upset about it, was she not? If we can keep her off your trail and see Lady Samantha soon, it would be quite beneficial. I do not want to see your hard work at the hospital distracted by Lady Katherine's wrath."

Ernest nodded. "Indeed. That would be quite good, I agree. I shall correspond with her. Unless you wish to?"

"I do not mind reaching out to her." Graham nodded and stepped back. "Things are moving rather swiftly with the White Wing as well. It seems Lady Samantha's arrival at Little Harkwell has spurred me somewhat into quicker action. I wish to honour him swiftly."

"And I know you will," Ernest said, nodding. "Do let me know what Lady Samantha says. Have a good afternoon, Graham."

"Have a safe journey home, Ernest."

As the carriage pulled away, Ernest going home, he could not help wishing for the friendly, joking best friend he'd had before the war changed Graham. And he could not help wondering in what ways the war had changed him too.

***

He entered Little Harkwell and immediately followed the sound of thunking piano keys.

Lady Florence had declined his invitation to the second theatre outing that week, and he was secretly glad, for he had not known how to act around her. But since their argument, she had lacked dedication to anything at all. She played the pianoforte angrily, her voice hard when he heard Miss Gundry urge her to sing. He knew he would find the governess in the music room.

"Lady Florence, you must perform well," Miss Gundry said, sounding desperate, as Ernest entered the doorway. He saw the tight lines of Florence's shoulders as she sat at the instrument, ignoring her governess.

"I do not care," she answered. "I care only about Victor. He has not written to me in the days since you and Lord Bannerdown chased him off. I shall never speak to anyone ever again."

Miss Gundry sighed, exasperated. "Perhaps we should pause for some refreshments. Shall I send up for some cakes?"

"Whatever you wish," Lady Florence said sniffing.

As Miss Gundry turned to leave, Ernest caught her attention, beckoning her over.

"I am sorry to interrupt, Miss Gundry, but it seems Lady Florence might not miss you if you were to sneak to the library with me."

"Sneak?"

He lowered his voice. "I believe I have found our culprit."

Her eyes lit up. "Then I believe she will not miss me, no."

"Please join me."

Together, they walked to the library, and once there, Ernest glanced down the hallway to check it was clear before he closed the door. He did not like implicating his ward's governess in such a way, but he did not want to be overheard.

"You have found the rider?" Miss Gundry pressed, her face alight with excitement. "Who is he?"

"Mr Courtenay caught a lead about an artist hosting a salon in the art gallery in town. So, we went to have a look around and, well, we found not Victor but his brother. It turns out they are the two sons of the Marquess of Tuberville." He paced, looking at the window, but he thought he heard a sharp intake of breath. "We spoke with Lord Simon, the older brother. Lord Victor is our rider, though. He is a year older than Lady Florence. But Lord Simon seemed very troubled by the news, and I was almost sorry to relay it to him because he indeed confirmed that his brother is rather … quick-handed with the women. He tries to woo many at a time. Lady Florence is not special to him, though I wish it were otherwise. He has promised to further investigate with his brother on our behalf."

Where he expected some response from Miss Gundry, he got only silence. He frowned, turning back to her. "Miss Gundry? Miss Gundry, you have grown rather pale. Is everything all right?"

"I …" Her eyes were wide, her face suddenly white as a bedsheet. "I … I think I may need to sit down, Lord Bannerdown."