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Chapter Eleven

J ohn had taken a hasty leave of Lady Eugenia. Perhaps it had not been well done of him, but he was eager to reach the sanctuary of his office and be alone with his thoughts. That…thing that had just happened in the carriage was nothing short of monumental. As soon as he closed the door and sat behind his desk, he dropped his face into his hands.

What had he been thinking? When had he ever lost his head in such a way? It was unthinkable to kiss a woman of gentle birth that he could not marry, and he had never had even the slightest desire to do so before. It was only that her eyes had been so large and lovely, and he had already fallen for her heart, for it was something to love. It had seemed in that moment that he was incapable of resisting.

He knew it was not simply carnal attraction, which made it all the more dangerous. His feelings for her, although they had developed in a brief period, ran deep. He closed his eyes and relived the feeling of her lips underneath his, his hand around her waist, and the gentle touch of her fingers resting on his arm. He needed only to remember their closeness in that moment, and he thought his heart would pound right out of his chest. How was it that she smelled so fresh? There was nothing sweet and cloying about her. Just a simple citrusy scent that he found irresistible and which made him want to keep kissing her. The altercation with the other carriage had proved to be a fortunate thing, because it had stopped him before he completely lost all reason.

John exhaled and rubbed his eyes. It was as though he had been plunged right back into his days of debauchery, as though he had not learned his lesson. It was inadmissible to have taken such liberties with her, and he was going to have to apologize and hope she accepted it. It did not matter that he was, in truth, a gentleman by birth and in status, because he was pursuing her while attempting to bring her father to his knees. That alone was enough for a gentleman to pull back from pursuing her.

He lifted his head as the full weight of his folly was brought upon him. He did not want to imagine the look of disappointment on her face when she discovered who he was, and he hoped she never would discover it. At the same time, that would mean disappearing from her life without a trace, and this he was increasingly unable to do.

Even so, he would have to break things off with her—whatever this was. He had allowed an ease and intimacy to grow between them that simply could not continue. John stood and paced in his small office. It would be one of the hardest things he had ever done. Everything in him wanted to pursue her until he won her. For marriage? Maybe , he thought. Yes—I think so! But such a thing was impossible, and he had better put it out of his mind.

They did not meet again that day, and John arrived at the orphanage the following day after a sleepless night. Despite his best resolutions, his heart beat faster at the thought of seeing Lady Geny. By way of distracting himself, he decided to begin training the two orphans she had suggested and went to find the headmaster for that purpose. There was no need to lay the additional burden on her of speaking with Mr. Dowling.

The headmaster was just arriving in his office and had removed his hat when John came to stand at the doorway.

“Lady Eugenia has informed me of the various positions the orphans are training for, and I have offered to train two of the more capable boys in learning sums. I wish to start as soon as possible with their morning instruction.” John waited patiently as Mr. Dowling appeared to ignore him in the act of putting away his effects. “Lady Eugenia suggested Gabriel and Timothy as the most suitable options.”

Mr. Dowling patted the pockets of his waistcoat as though he were in search of something. John suspected he was in search of an excuse to stall for time.

“It would have been better had you come to me directly instead of disturbing Lady Eugenia with these notions. After all, training and placement is my domain.”

John studied Mr. Dowling, careful to keep his face free of the dislike he felt toward the man. “The conversation came about naturally. I would not be so impertinent as to approach her with such an idea of my own volition.”

“Nevertheless, Lady Eugenia is daughter to an earl and therefore has little to do with you. You had best leave all concerns regarding the asylum for me to address with her.”

John leveled a gaze at him. “Do you suggest that if Lady Eugenia speaks to me that I should not answer her? If she makes a suggestion or asks for my opinion, that I should reject her overture?”

“Of course that is not what I mean,” Mr. Dowling replied impatiently. “I am only saying that you should not put yourself in her way so that she feels obliged to converse with you.”

John directed his gaze to the wall beyond Mr. Dowling. “I shall keep that in mind. And now, do you wish to bring Gabriel and Timothy to me, since Lady Eugenia recommended I begin training them? Or shall I report back to her that you were not in favor of the idea?”

After a tense silence, Mr. Dowling capitulated, most likely realizing Lady Eugenia would not take kindly to such opposition. “I will bring them to you today.”

John expected Mr. Dowling to bring the orphans within the hour, but he did not. He had not heard the carriage bringing Lady Geny either and hoped he had not scared her away. Despite knowing they could not build a future together, the idea of her no longer wishing to see him would be a difficult disappointment to overcome.

John looked over some of the early donations one more time. He could not find any more discrepancies in the books and it frustrated him, for if the rumors were there, would there not be some truth to them? Especially now that he now knew something of Lord Goodwin.

If only I could verify that these were all the donors from the asylum’s beginning and could be sure of the exact amounts donated. All he had to go on were the names listed in the ledger and the fact that the orphanage remained in a humbler state than it ought to be with so many wealthy people pouring donations into it.

While he sat contemplating how else he might come by incriminating evidence—and wondering if there might be a member of Blackstone’s who would have this knowledge—Dowling walked in, trailed by boys.

“This is Gabriel.” Mr. Dowling indicated one well-favored boy and then gestured to the other, who had the look of an urchin who would survive on the streets if he needed to. “And this is Timothy. I have informed them that they will train under you each morning.”

“Excellent.” John pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at it. “We have only an hour or so before you will have your soup. Let us see what you can do with some basic sums. ”

“Yes, sir,” Gabriel answered, a gleam in his eye. Timothy looked wary and returned no answer.

Completely ignoring Dowling, John pulled a small table away from the closet and put it closer to the window. He then brought the chair up to it before looking back at the headmaster. “I will need another chair.”

This seemed to wake Dowling out of his stupor, and he responded with thinly veiled irritation. “You will find one in the meeting room next door.” He turned on his heels and left.

Good . John’s goal had been to get rid of Dowling, and he had done so. He turned to the bigger of the two boys.

“Timothy, go next door and bring a chair from there.” The boy went out in search of one, and John went over to his desk and brought out two blank ledgers and receipts that he had already calculated. He wanted to see how they fared with simple calculations.

When Timothy returned with the chair, he said, “Sit, and we will begin with a basic lesson in accounting.”

When they did so, he set the ledgers on the narrow table that had just enough room for them both to write, then paused, thinking he ought to learn more about each of them. He placed his hand on the stack of ledgers.

“Tell me about yourselves. How old are you, when did you arrive at the orphanage, and where were you before?”

Gabriel spoke first, looking up at John with a surprisingly clear-eyed gaze. “I am twelve, and I came to the orphanage six years ago when it was first built. Before that I lived with my mother.”

There was something in his look, a slight tremble to his lips that softened John toward him. “I am sorry to hear that you lost your mother.” After a slight beat, he turned to Timothy. “And you?”

“I’m thirteen. I came four years ago.” Timothy looked belligerent, which John suspected was a front. “They caught me on the streets, even if I was doing fine on my own, and they brought me here.”

“Are you glad they did?” John asked, although he wasn’t sure if he would be given a truthful answer.

Timothy twisted his lips in a grimace. “I suppose. Even though I’m not like Gabriel here.” He jerked a thumb in Gabriel’s direction, and John waited for him to expand on it. He didn’t.

“How is Gabriel different from you?” John glanced between the two of them, and Timothy was still scowling, while Gabriel tipped his chin up in a manner that seemed oddly genteel for an orphan. He clammed up his lips, and it was Timothy who answered.

“ He gets his own room. He has a sponsor—a gentleman from the looks of it.”

“I see,” John said slowly.

Lady Geny hadn’t mentioned any orphans having their own rooms. He had not visited the third floor and could only assume that the room—or rooms—would be found there. He wondered if other orphans were in such a privileged position. It occurred to him that he hadn’t seen any record for sponsored orphans, either, which was peculiar. It would bear some looking into, and he would have to have a better look at the ledger from the year Gabriel arrived.

In the meantime, there were lessons to attend to. He explained how to record the simple receipts he had created for the mock ledger, and how to add them, then allowed the boys to begin their work.

John knocked for the third time on the door of Blackstone’s club, determined to make a decision today about whether or not he would become a member. There was no point in continuing to go if he was not going to invest in the society there. The two gentlemen he had spoken with the last time seemed pleasant enough, but it took more than two gentlemen to know if a club was right for a person.

Plockton opened the door and recognized him at a glance, bowing and addressing him by name. John was relieved that he wouldn’t have to undergo the little black book scrutiny of the last time, which reminded him all too forcibly of his rejection from the other clubs.

“Come right this way, sir. Lord Blackstone is in his study and asked not to be disturbed. There are plenty of other members present today, and you will find them in the various rooms.”

Plockton was in a talkative mood that day, which was another strange distinction of the club. The servants seemed to be on nearly the same level of informality as the members.

He added in a conversational tone, “You can decide if you wish to play billiards or sit at cards—or you might go into the drawing room.” Perhaps Plockton thought he was already a member, because these rooms had not been open to him before.

“Be so good as to show me into the billiard room,” John said.

He did not know where to find it but thought it might be a good idea to seek out a different room and company than what he had seen the last time. They entered the room, and Harry Smart was mid-game with another gentleman, and he raised his hand in salutation. Three other gentlemen watched the game idly, one leaning against the wall and the others seated.

“Good to see you again, Aubin. I was beginning to fear you would have been turned off by the strange company, both dead and alive, and refuse to come back.” Harry grinned and leaned down to take his shot. It proved to be a good one, for he hit both object balls. He gave a crow of victory, then came over and shook John’s hand.

“Allow me to introduce you to everyone. That over there is Sebastian Drake; he is new as well. These two are Mark Riordan and Grant Bell. And this”—Harry added, pointing to the older gentleman who was his opponent—“is the Earl of Hollingsworth. Come to think of it, he is just the person for you to meet, because he’s had intimate dealings with Goodwin. Or he did have in the past.”

John greeted the other gentlemen before turning to bow to the earl. “Lord Hollingsworth, it is an honor to make your acquaintance.”

He glanced at the others present, aware of how unusual it was to speak openly of one’s affairs in front of strangers, but it was Harry who had brought it up. “If you are so inclined, I would be glad to know what dealings you’ve had with Lord Goodwin in the past, for the knowledge might help me.”

Harry had missed his next shot, and Lord Hollingsworth let his gaze rest on John for a moment before smiling and walking around the table to take his own shot. When he had accomplished this with less success than Harry, he stood.

“I was in love with the Countess Goodwin before she held the title and had hoped to make her my wife. Lord Goodwin stole a march on me, and I was never able to realize my ambition.”

John did not know what to make of such openness or its implications. He could understand what it was to be thwarted in love, but was that all there was to create such animosity between them? He searched for something to say. “I have seen a portrait of Lady Goodwin, and she was comely.”

Harry joked with the man leaning against the wall, pulling the others into his raillery. None of them appeared to be overly interested in his conversation with the earl. John was glad for it.

Lord Hollingsworth sighed. “She was indeed, but it was her goodness that held my heart captive. I am a rogue, always have been. It was her noble character that tempted me for the first time to bring a lady to the altar. A shame it did not come about, for she might have been the making of me. ”

Harry walked back to the table and took his shot, contributing nothing to the conversation. Lord Hollingsworth appeared to be able to follow both conversation and game, for he marked a point for Harry.

“What happened to lead her to choose Goodwin, do you suppose?” John inquired. “If it is not too forward of me to ask such a personal question.”

“Tell me first what you have against Lord Goodwin, and I will tell you—possibly.” The earl turned to Harry. “That was a foul.”

“Yes, my lord,” Harry said in a mocking tone. “I was about to call it.” He did not appear to hold peers or his elders in any particular reverence.

John was in a surreal world where people spoke of their personal affairs in front of others. Well, why not answer? All of society knew of his anyway—or at least, those in the clubs did. He waited until Hollingsworth returned his attention.

“Goodwin had me blackballed from the clubs—ousted from society, in fact—for having exposed his scheme to offload some worthless shares of a private equity deal. The other investors were peers that he had persuaded to join in.” John hesitated before adding, “Unfortunately, Lord Perkins did not believe me. Then, later, the shares ended up being lucrative for its investors, so I was made to look ill on all counts.”

Lord Hollingsworth examined the tip of his cue. “I wonder if this is damaged, and that is why I am playing so ill.”

John recognized stalling when he saw it and waited until the earl saw fit to return to the topic at hand. At last, he did.

“Your misfortune does not surprise me, nor do Lord Goodwin’s actions from what I know of him. In my case, Lady Goodwin—Miss Beatrice Watson as she was then—believed in his appearance of goodness, whilst I remained a rogue in her eyes. She was persuaded to throw in her lot with Lord Goodwin. I do not know if she ever saw his true colors before her death, but I suspect she did.”

As John had no idea, he could only surmise. “Do you know of any other ill dealings besides the one I learned of?”

“Only rumors.” Lord Hollingsworth resumed the game, taking his shot and having more luck this time. Harry nodded and added a point to his score. “Although, I do run once again in the same circles as Lord Goodwin, for I was reinstated in the clubs.”

“Were you?” This surprised John, for he would not have expected anyone to remain a member in this eccentric club if he were able to frequent the more standard ones. He hadn’t seen him at either White’s or Boodle’s. Perhaps Hollingsworth was eccentric enough to find more of a home in Blackstone’s than White’s.

“I scarcely go, however—except to the Cocoa Tree. I like it here,” Lord Hollingsworth said, adding inconsequentially, “and I mourned Lady Goodwin’s death, even though she never did accept my proposal.”

John murmured some appropriate reply, then a dreamy look came over Hollingsworth’s face. “However, I have seen the young Lady Eugenia in society, and she resembles her mother. Nearly the same look, the two of them, and I hear she possesses a similar character to her mother. I have been considering trying my luck with her instead. I suspect Goodwin would welcome my offer despite our past history.”

The idea was so shocking, so alarming, that John cried out his protest. “But my lord! You are more than twice her age.”

A pregnant silence fell as the gentlemen in the room exchanged glances. So they had been listening. John felt exposed.

“Felicity in marriage is not always based on similarity of age,” Lord Hollingsworth countered, perfectly at ease. “But I am to gather from your objection that you have made Lady Eugenia’s acquaintance and have built some hopes in that direction.”

John had walked into a trap of his own making. Now, he attempted to rein in his words.

“I have come to know Lady Eugenia from working at the foundling asylum alongside her. I wish only the best for her.” It was an anemic statement considering the strength of what he actually felt for her, but it was all he would say.

Lord Hollingsworth raised an eyebrow. “So you have infiltrated the asylum. Very clever of you.”

John had always possessed an easy way in society. It had been a simple matter to make friends even from youth, and he had never stumbled in his words or suffered uncertainty about his actions. But now… Ever since he had fallen out of society, he had not only lost his good standing, it seemed as though he had lost his self-possession—his dash. He was beginning to fear he would never regain his full confidence from before. Since he was finding himself out of his depth, he thought it prudent to end the conversation.

“I believe I have taken enough of your time. I must allow you to resume your game, Lord Hollingsworth. Perhaps I will see what conversation there might be had in the drawing room.” He forced himself to speak naturally and not show himself to be in any rush.

Harry called the gentleman leaning against the wall over to the table. “Drake, you may have the next game. I am weary of playing.” The newest member wandered over, a look of ready humor on his face, and took the cue from Harry.

John entered the hallway with Harry not far behind him. He slowed to allow for Harry’s infirmity, although he was unsure if he wished for the company.

“I encourage you not to be uneasy on Lord Hollingsworth’s account.” Harry glanced at John adding, “He may be a rogue still and more eccentric than he lets on, but he is known to be a loyal fellow. He will not pursue a courtship if another club member has already made headway in that direction. Hollingsworth is a man of honor.”

“I thank you for your disclosure. That does put my mind at ease.” John offered him a polite smile.

Ronald Sacks stood at the entrance to the drawing room. His role in the club was not very clear, for he was certainly no gentleman, but he appeared to move freely amongst the guests. It was an eccentric club to belong to, but John had made up his mind to become a member. If for no other reason than to keep Lord Hollingsworth away from Lady Geny, he would join. Harry walked into the drawing room and greeted members there, but John paused at the entrance.

“Sacks, would you be so good as to inform Lord Blackstone that I wish to have a word with him as soon as he is at liberty? I do not plan to leave the club anytime soon, so I am quite at his disposal.”

“Will do, Mr. Aubin.”

John went to sit down and wait, taking a newspaper with him and calling a servant over to bring him a coffee if it could be had. At least the decision about whether to join Blackstone’s had not been a difficult one.