CHAPTER 9
“ You’re being foolish,” Christian said as his coach turned on to Down Street.
“Says the thug who thinks it’s a brilliant idea to hand out daggers as gifts,” Gabe grumbled.
“Precisely.” His friend agreed with a nod, not insulted in the least. “Which should tell you exactly how foolish you’re being in regards to Miss Hampton, if even I can see it.”
“Indeed?” No one in the world had ever mistaken Christian Hawke as a romantic, and Gabe narrowed his eyes on his friend, across the coach. “You seem to be full of advice this afternoon. Have you some girl you’ve been pining after that I’m unaware of?”
Christian shook his head as his carriage rambled to a stop in front of Weybourne House. “But should I ever stumble upon a girl I care for as deeply as you do Sophia Hampton, I would never let a little thing like her father’s hatred of me stand in my way.” He stepped from the conveyance and glanced back at Gabe over his shoulder. “Life is too short, as you are well aware.”
Gabe scoffed in response. “That is easier said than done, Christian. Besides—” he climbed from the coach after his friend “—I can’t imagine any girl’s father hating you enough to keep his daughter from being the future Duchess of Weybourne. That is not the situation I find myself in these days.” And Beckbury’s hatred of Gabe went well beyond his lack of lands and a lofty title. The shame behind that particular truth was one he still hadn’t quite come to terms with himself and he’d never divulge it, not as long as there was breath in his lungs. If anyone learned the truth, he and Clayton would lose what little there was to be had or salvaged from the Northwold earldom.
“And so your foolishness continues.” Christian sighed. He started up the stoop to his grandfather’s home, and the old ducal butler opened the front door for his entrance. “All the time you spent on the continent, all those men you saw die beside you in Spain, and now watching Clayton’s mental and physical capacities fade away…. Life is too short, Gabe. It simply is. Should you pine away after Miss Hampton all of the rest of your days? Watch her accept an offer from Greywood because you won’t step up? Live out the years you have left, miserable and alone? What is the bloody point of that?”
“You don’t know the first thing about any of it,” Gabe growled, following his friend into the front foyer.
But Christian, as always, paid no one else any mind at all. “You should march right on over to Beckbury House and tell her you’ve been a fool and beg her to forgive you.”
Except he hadn’t been a fool. He’d done the only reasonable thing he could have done four years ago. There hadn’t been any other choice he could make. “I wouldn’t be allowed past the threshold.”
The butler closed the door behind them.
“A lot has changed since Beckbury refused your offer,” Christian began.
The butler cleared his throat, making both men turn their attention on the fellow.
“Yes, Poole?” Christian asked.
The aged servant nodded toward the front parlor and winced slightly. “Mr. Winslett has been waiting for you, sir. He’s been imbibing.”
And quite heavily if Gabe had interpreted the butler’s enunciation of the word correctly. Gabe and Christian exchanged a glance and then the pair of them made their way directly to the parlor in question.
Chase Winslett sat in a chintz chair in the middle of the room, cradling an entire decanter of something in his hands. He blinked at his friends and then said, “Madeira?” as he lifted the bottle up in the air.
“Are we foregoing glasses these days, Winslett?” Christian asked, stepping further into the parlor.
“One glass wasn’t going to do it.” Chase shrugged. “I thought Doctor Watts said you shouldn’t be up and about today.”
“It‘s just a scratch.” Christian dropped onto the settee across from their friend. “And Watts is overly cautious.”
Gabe followed Christian’s lead and took the spot beside him on the sofa. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I thought you said you didn’t intend to go down Gillingham’s path.”
Chase scoffed. Loudly. “Yes, well, a different cousin of mine is responsible for this lapse in my good judgment.”
Only Sophie could drive someone to drink. Or perhaps she only had the power to drive Gabe to drink. Of course, something had been bothering her at Pall Mall. Did that something have to do with Chase? “What did she do now?”
“Somehow extricated Lady Priscilla from Chatham House a few hours ago.”
“Extricated her?” Christian echoed.
Chase closed his eyes as though he could block out whatever was bothering him. “She barges into my set of rooms last night, and—”
“Good God.” Christian sat a little straighter. “Wait, which of your cousins are we talking about?”
“Sophia Hampton,” Gabe answered for his friend.
“Your Miss Hampton?” Christian speared Gabe with a look.
“Just so.” Chase agreed with a nod of his head. “Begging me to make certain Priscilla wasn’t in danger of being married off to Hellsburg and—”
“Hellsburg?” Christian asked. “Who the devil is that?”
“One of our cousins,” Chase replied, opening his eyes once more. “He’s come from Prussia on business, apparently.” Then he turned his attention on Gabe. “And so I went over there to assess the situation for myself and damn if Sophie hadn’t already found a way to remove Priscilla from Chatham House and instill her in Beckbury House.”
Had she really? Sophie had always amazed Gabe. “How did she manage that?”
“I have no idea.” Chase shook his head. “That is not the point. She barged into my lodgings for no good reason last night, but after she convinced me to take up her mantel, she forged ahead with another plan altogether, making my jaunt to Chatham House a complete waste of time.”
That was true, but… “You did need to speak to your grandfather, anyway, I would imagine.”
“He tries to avoid doing that at all costs,” Christian said. Then he chuckled. “Go on, drink up, Winslett. I’m sure you need a restorative.”
Chase did tip back the entire decanter of Madeira.
No matter how much Chase wanted to evade Chatham… “He can’t avoid the old man now,” Gabe muttered.
“He’s been doing a marvelous job of it for some time,” Christian countered.
“Yes, but now he’s got me in his sights,” Chase complained. “Honestly, Gabe, I told you he made my uncle’s and cousin’s lives miserable, and he is now quite focused on me.”
“Which cousin are we talking about now?” Christian asked. “Hellsburg? Lady Priscilla?”
“Gillingham.” Chase took another swallow from the decanter. Then he sat forward in his spot. “Did you know he died?”
“Gillingham?” Christian asked.
“Dagger in his back and tossed into the Thames a sennight ago.”
“A dagger?” Gabe echoed. Sophie hadn’t mentioned that bit the night before. He’d just assumed Gillingham had stumbled into the river, deep in his cups and drowned. He would have never imagined the man could have gotten himself murdered.
“On my word, I didn’t kill him,” Christian said.
Gabe hadn’t even thought about that being a possibility. Of course the Covent Guard was known for throwing daggers at pickpockets and brigands. But certainly Gillingham hadn’t been considered either.
“I didn’t suggest you did.” Chase breathed out a sigh. “I just meant, if you knew he was dead, I’d think you’d tell me.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” Christian replied.
Chase slunk against his chair once more. “Now that Priscilla is gone, he’s demanded I move my things into Chatham House so he can train me to take over the dukedom after he’s gone, but—”
“Oh, good God!” Christian’s mouth fell open. “You’re his heir presumptive, now,” he said in surprise as he’d, apparently, just realized that bit.
“Indeed,” Chase agreed, dejectedly.
“What are the odds the three of us would each find ourselves in this same situation?” Christian asked quietly.
“The odds hardly matter,” Chase muttered, “as the three of us do find ourselves in these situations.” Then he snorted. “At least your grandfather is reasonable.”
“Only in comparison to Chatham.”
Chase agreed with a nod. “And he’s having a dinner this evening, my grandfather. Demanding the presence of the entire family.” Then he leveled both Gabe and Christian with a look. “And you’ll both be there with me.”
Christian snorted in response. “I am otherwise engaged in the evenings. You know that.”
But Chase’s glare did not change. “You’re injured. The Covent Guard can take one evening off from his dagger throwing adventures.”
“I wouldn’t call them adventures—”
“I shall have to decline your generous invitation as well,” Gabe said.
“You’re not declining anything. Neither of you are.”
“I hardly think it’s a good idea for me to be in the same room as Beckbury.” Or Sophie. Their encounter at Pall Mall could hardly be called a success.
“Or perhaps it’s the best idea in the world,” Christian leveled Gabe with this most serious expression.
“Indeed,” Chase agreed. “Perhaps my uncle has had a change of heart since you last spoke.”
Which was more than ridiculous. Unless Beckbury had somehow forgotten the unfortunate truth he knew about Gabe’s father and the legitimacy of the Northwold earldom, the man would never have a change of heart.
“Chase,” Gabe began when it seemed his friend had no intention of being reasonable.
But Chase shook his head, most definitively. “I told my grandfather I couldn’t attend dinner, that I had plans with the two of you. So he demanded your presence as well. You’re both going.”
Chatham could go hang. Gabe didn’t care one way or the other about what the old duke had commanded or otherwise. Certainly Chase didn’t really expect Gabe to attend a dinner with Sophie’s family, and surely not her father. His friend had very clearly lost his mind.
“In that case,” Christian began as he heaved a sigh. “I find myself quite curious to see you all in the same room together.”