Page 1

Chapter 1

It was Friday evening, and business was booming at The Arc.

Conor Foster, Earl of Middleborough, looked around his establishment with satisfaction. Every table was full tonight. Gentlemen sipped from glasses of brandy and scotch as they examined the cards in their hands and placed their bets.

This is exactly what I dreamed it would be, Conor thought as he gazed around the club.Ever since the day it first occurred to me to open The Arc, this was the picture I had in my head. He couldn’t help feeling a surge of pride and satisfaction now that he had seen it come to life. It was, he imagined, what watching the birth of a child must be like.

“Thirsty?” came a voice from behind.

Conor turned to see the roguish smile of his good friend, Henry Wilson. Henry had a glass of scotch in each hand, and now he pushed one toward Conor.

Conor accepted the drink gratefully and took a sip. “Good scotch.”

“Isn’t it?” Henry asked, delight manifesting across his face. “I do love a good scotch.”

“We’re selling this tonight?”

Henry nodded. As Conor’s business partner, one of his responsibilities was sourcing the liquor they served. Henry’s stake in the club was small compared to Conor’s, but Conor had to admit he was very good at what he did.

He took another sip of the scotch and surveyed the room again. “The gentlemen seem to be enjoying themselves,” he remarked.

“Have you made the time to sit down with them?” Henry asked.

Conor shook his head. “You know perfectly well that I don’t do that.”

“And you know perfectly well that I think you should,” Henry persisted.

“Why?” Conor asked. “Why should I, when I have you to do it for me? You’re much more sociable than I am, Henry. You’re more than capable of checking in with our patrons and ensuring that they’re having a good time. You don’t need my help.”

“Not for the sake of the business,” Henry said. “For your own sake. People talk about you, Conor.”

“People talk far too much,” Conor said.

“Be that as it may. All it would take would be a few smiles, a ‘few how do you do’s, to show the clientele that you’re friendly and happy they’ve chosen The Arc.”

“Don’t ask it of me,” Conor said. He was happy to be the owner of this club, and he enjoyed spending time here, but surely a man should be permitted a business enterprise without having to put on a public face?

The worst thing about being an earl is being forced to smile and make nice with the public so often. At least here, in my own club, I should be permitted to relax and to be myself.

It wasn’t that Conor disliked the patrons of his club, or that he didn’t wish to spend time around people. But he was, by his nature, a quiet man, and it wasn’t his way to say much to others. Henry was far more skilled at socializing than Conor was.

And so, let it be Henry’s responsibility, Conor thought.He’ll do a better job of it anyway, and he’ll enjoy it besides.

He held up his glass, which he had emptied. “I’m going to go and get another drink,” he said. “Can I get you anything?”

“No,” Henry said. “I ought to go and make the rounds, if you’re not going to.”

“Good man,” Conor said.

Henry rolled his eyes, but he returned Conor’s smile and moved off toward a table full of regular patrons where the card game was usually quite high stakes.

Conor took his glass to the bar and leaned against it, patiently awaiting the attention of his bartender. When the man saw him standing there, he hurried over, dishrag in hand. “Lord Middleborough. My apologies. I didn’t notice you.”

Conor waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve told you, I’m sure, that serving our patrons is more important than rushing to tend to me.”

“Yes, My Lord, of course.”

Conor set his glass down. “I’d just like another scotch,” he said. “Whatever you’re serving today, it’s quite good. I hope you’re letting the patrons know that.”