Page 4 of A Lady’s Guide to Scoundrels and Gentlemen (The Harp & Thistle #1)

V ivian couldn’t fall asleep to save her life. Anytime her mind lingered toward the events of the evening, her heart rate leapt. And it wasn’t only from that silly kiss upon her bare hand she tried not to think about. She’d practically had to drag a drunk, bawling Bernard out of The Harp his large, muscular frame had been built and was maintained for strength. His ancient ancestors had probably bred for strength. Strength that had taken down a man called “the Irish Goliath” with a single hit.

No, all men did not , in fact, look like that.

And the hair—heavens! The first thought she’d had when she’d seen the wisps of hair on his muscled chest had been to weave her fingers through it. She placed a hand over her face with a groan, completely ashamed of herself. No wonder she’d been so bashful from an innocuous kiss upon her hand. Dantes pulled out the deep-seated carnal instincts good breeding snuffed out.

She could never show her face to him again.

After letting out a shaky breath, Vivian threw back the rest of the whiskey. But right as she was going to turn to head back to bed, a carriage stopped in front of her house.

Vivian watched with guarded curiosity as a shadowy figure eased out into the cold, rainy night. Fearful of a visitor at this late hour, she was just wondering if she should ring for Heaton when skirts became illuminated by a streetlamp. The woman stopped, clearly considering if she should wake the household at this hour. The figure’s face still shrouded in shadow, Vivian couldn’t see who it was, but she had an inkling.

She ran as quietly as she could to the front door and opened it. The woman’s stance tensed at first but relaxed when she realized it was Vivian. She rushed forward.

“Vivian!” Anne threw herself onto Vivian and began to sob into her shoulder.

Vivian tried to shush her and pulled her back into the drawing room, pouring out two small glasses of whiskey. Anne eyed it from the sofa with unease but took it, sipped it, and made a face. “You can’t sleep, either?” Anne finally asked.

“No.” Of course, Vivian couldn’t tell Anne the real reason why. Anne no doubt assumed Vivian was just as upset as she about Bernard’s fiasco.

“Bernard…” Anne stopped. Sobs took over again. Vivian went to sit next to Anne, pulling her close, and Anne was able to collect herself after a moment. “Bernard is at home, passed out drunk. I know he took you to The Harp & Thistle tonight.”

Vivian remained quiet, unsure of what Anne knew. She was not going to be the one to break the one-thousand-pound news.

But Anne continued. “Bernard told me everything when he got home, Vivian. Everything. It was a marathon confession. He doubled his debt at The Harp & Thistle. He is thousands of pounds in debt.”

“How much?”

“Five thousand.”

Vivian’s hand flew to her mouth. “I thought it was one thousand!”

Anne’s lip quivered as more tears streamed. “No. He apparently visits several other places quite regularly.”

It didn’t escape Vivian that Anne had used the word places . What places? So, she asked.

Outside, the rain fell harder and tapped louder against the window. “It doesn’t matter, does it?” Anne slowly rubbed her forehead, as if trying to settle a headache.

“It does matter. I’m assuming you came to me for help?”

Anne paused before giving a small nod.

“Then you need to tell me what’s going on.”

And the entire sordid truth came out. Bernard gambled most nights, owing money to numerous people at numerous gaming hells. He had open drinking tabs of large amounts at several pubs. But the hardest part for Vivian to hear was Bernard visited brothels—apparently, men could rack up debt there as well. Her brother was a monster. No—he was worse. He was a scoundrel, a woman’s worst nightmare. The exact type of man she desperately needed to avoid if she didn’t want a lifetime of heartache. Yet she couldn’t even recognize it in her own brother. She’d known he’d had a bit of a struggle with gambling—the whole family had known that—but this? This went far beyond what she’d thought.

And if she couldn’t see that scoundrel in her own brother, how was she going to be able to see it in every other man around her? The men who pursued her relentlessly? She was forced to find a husband now. How was she going to avoid the life Anne and, honestly, most women led?

Was it gambling? Drinking? Merely being the type of man who spent time at pubs? That could be an easy way to avoid a bad man. Avoid a man who went to pubs.

That must make Dantes the ultimate scoundrel. The man owned a pub. It was his livelihood, where he spent most of his life. And his brothers, his friends, his patrons—they were all scoundrels too. And as he was also the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on, surely, the other women who went to The Harp & Thistle thought so too. In fact, he probably had a rotation of women who matched the day of the week. On Monday, he slept with Martha. On Tuesday, he bedded Theresa. Wednesday was Winifred. On and on, Dantes lived the life of the world’s ultimate scoundrel.

And he’d kissed her hand in a way to say he wanted her to be one of those women. And she’d let him do it, hypnotized by his call.

Blast! She was a foolish, foolish woman!

“All right, here’s what I can do.” Vivian clapped her hands down to her knees. “Tomorrow, send me a list of the debts owed. Exact amounts and the recipients. I’ll send it to one of my bank managers—one whom I trust with utmost discretion—and he will see to the payoffs.” She paused. “He’s an idiot.” She shook her head at herself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be saying that.”

“No. He is an idiot.” Anne threw back the remainder of her glass into her mouth, choking briefly.

She began sobbing again and thanked Vivian, saying she had never felt as much shame as she did in the moment. “I’m jealous of you.” Anne sniffed. “Normally, I’m too proud to say something like that, but tonight, I would gladly trade places with you. Bernard, I would do anything for him, you know? I grew his children. I went through the insurmountable pain and agony of that. I take care of them and him, running the household, while he goes around London sleeping with brothel women?”

Vivian looked down at her hands. “Has my father offered any help?”

“Bernard refuses to go to him. And in truth, I don’t want the duke to know about any of this, either. We could lose everything from his debts, do you realize that? Our home, which would lead to losing our friends, our status, and reputation. Our children would be laughed at by the other children. I would never be able to show my face again in the light of day. And what can I even do about it? Bernard has a high annual income, but I don’t ever see it and can’t put any to the side. And it’s not like I can go out and get a job. He doesn’t love me, Vivian. No one could do this to someone they loved.” Anne ran her hands over her skirt before looking back up.

Vivian stood to find the whiskey decanter again, adding a final splash to their glasses. She knew Anne was upset and thinking of the most catastrophic outcome. Vivian also knew it would never come to that. Her father, even Anne’s parents, would never let it happen. But Vivian also understood Anne’s need to fix this without getting any of their parents involved.

“Don’t ever get married.” Anne let out a watery laugh as she knuckled her damp eyes. “It’s the surest way to misery.” Anne accepted the glass back from Vivian but didn’t take a sip. “When I debuted and Bernard came to call on me the first time, I was so excited. A future duke, could you imagine how exciting for a girl?” She took a hasty sip. “My parents were also thrilled, naturally. I still wonder why he chose me.”

“You were quite pretty,” Vivian explained. “And Father and Gran approved of your family.”

“I was also quite na?ve. I believed everything he said to me. He could have come home with a kiss mark on his cheek, explain that a woman bumped into him on the sidewalk accidentally, and I would have believed it.” A pause as Anne considered Vivian. “As I said, I’m a bit jealous of you.”

From Anne’s point of view, of course spinsterhood was wonderful. And truthfully, it had been once Vivian had accepted it. It would have continued to be wonderful if, beyond the grave, Gran hadn’t nosed herself into Vivian’s business. Though it was nice to no longer be a burden to her family now that she had her own home and money. For now, at least.

But spinsterhood could also be quite lonely. And this was a big house for a woman who had no family of her own, and who had lost all her friends. She had a too-big bed in a too-big bedroom in a too-big house. And everything around her, every moment of the day, was a stark reminder of how alone she was.

“Well, I would rather be me than you in this exact moment,” Vivian admitted. “But it’s not as wonderful as it may seem, so don’t torture yourself by glamorizing my life over yours. Despite what you think right now, I do think Bernard loves you.” He did, didn’t he? Of course he did. “I don’t know why he did all of this, nor do I know how to stop him. But… my life is rather lonely. As lonely as the bottom of the ocean, really, where even sunshine doesn’t reach. There’s simply nothing around me, and there never will be.”

Anne didn’t respond.

“Plus, you could always separate.” Vivian nearly slapped herself as the words came out.

Anne straightened and her eyes widened, as if this thought had never occurred to her. “You think so?”

Vivian hurried to recover the suggestion. “Technically, you could, I suppose. It would ruin your reputation, which concerns you, so I would investigate it first before you think too deeply about it. Would you live in separate houses, for instance? A lot to think about.”

Anne’s lips pressed tight together as she thought about this. “On the subject of separation, there really should be brothels for women to attend. You know…” Anne lowered her voice. “With men inside.”

“ Anne !”

“What?” Anne laughed. “In the unlikely event our marriage all but ended, I’d be expected to be chaste forever. Which is ridiculous because we both know he wouldn’t have that expectation—not that he would abide to it if he did.”

Vivian had to agree with her on that, but also wondered if Anne was drunk, or if this was Anne untethered. Perhaps a bit of both.

“This whole conversation is shameful, but I don’t care.” Anne swept a hand up through the air. “I’m feeling a little better, though. Maybe it’s the whiskey, but I think it’s the conversation.”

They sipped their whiskey, and exhaustion finally began to pull at Vivian’s eyes.

“Do you think you’ll ever get married?” Anne’s question was hushed, as if she worried it was too intrusive.

Vivian stared down into her glass as she considered her response. Though she wasn’t drunk, the effect of the evening’s alcohol made confiding deeply in a friend far too appealing. “I’m not fully sure,” she admitted. “But secretly, I do think I want to. Oh, why am I lying to myself? I want it more than anything. But only if it’s true love. Otherwise, I couldn’t be more uninterested. I don’t want to be—” Vivian hesitated at how to finish the sentence without insulting Anne. “I don’t want a loveless husband to add difficulty to my life.”

Anne briefly smiled. “I understand. Look at me, living that life right now.”

“Oh, Anne, Bernard loves you, though.”

Anne, however, did not seem convinced. “What am I going to do with him?” She let out a loud sigh right as a clock rang four times. “Oh, my, is it really four in the morning?” Anne set her glass down and stood up. “I really should go. Tomorrow is not going to be a good day and I need all the rest I can get. Thank you, Vivian. For everything.”

“Of course.” Vivian gave the marchioness a hug and a peck on the cheek before they quietly went to the front door and whispered their goodbyes.

As Vivian watched Anne’s carriage clip-clop away—if only Queen Victoria could see Vivian at the door in her nightgown—she recalled Dantes’s declaration that he wouldn’t accept her money if she tried to cover Bernard’s debt. Frankly, she didn’t understand why, as her money was as good as anyone else’s. And though she hardly knew the man, she suspected he wouldn’t waver in his decision. Which would make helping Bernard and Anne rather difficult.

But then an interesting idea began to prickle in her mind. Perhaps Dantes would be more willing to accept her money if there was a transaction involved, if they both received something out of it. Excitement rushed over her. There might be a way to get her out of her own predicament, and close the books on the issue between Bernard and Dantes as well. Vivian hurried up to her bedroom, scribbled the idea onto paper so it wasn’t lost during sleep, and promptly succumbed to exhaustion.