Page 11 of A Trial of His Affections (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #2)

Chapter Eleven

M iles settled into his favorite chair in his study, a glass of claret in his hand. Lud, why had he not just confessed then and there? Had there not been plenty of opportunities? He didn’t know how long he could live with the weight pressing down upon him.

He moved over to his desk and scribbled out a missive.

Freddie,

New developments in the plan. I need advice. I need help! Immediately !

Miles

He then wrote the same note to Fin. The men had come up with the hairbrained plan. Should they not advise him on the best course forward?

He sealed up the notes and rang for Franklin.

The butler stepped into the room just as Miles settled back into the chair. “You rang, sir?”

Miles lifted the notes. “Please have these delivered to my brother at Eaton House and Lord Finsbury in Berkeley Square. It is urgent.”

The butler took the letters and nodded. “Do you wish for them to wait for a reply?”

Miles thought for a moment. “Yes.”

“Very good, sir.” Franklin bowed and moved out of the room.

Miles knew he should review his papers for the Barrington cause. He would present at the bar in only a fortnight. The sisters contested their brother had coerced their father into changing the will only days before the old man cocked up his toes. However, he could not seem to focus his thoughts on the sisters’ plight. Grace and what he was to do about ‘the incident’ seemed to occupy all his mental faculties.

He sighed and dragged a hand over his face. Until he received word back from Freddie and Fin, there was little else for him to do. Moving over to his desk, he pulled his portfolio off his desktop. He took it to the chair and settled it on his lap, pulling out the first paper to read over. In truth, he was only representing the oldest Miss Barrington, a woman of three and thirty. Without the inheritance, the poor woman was destined to live in poverty. In truth, even with the inheritance, she would not live lavishly. But the outcome of this cause could mean the difference between her renting a small cottage or being forced into a workhouse.

Miles read the first sentence for the dozenth time and dropped his head onto the chairback. It was doubtful he could recite or give any meaning to the sentence. He shoved the paper back inside his portfolio and slammed the cover closed.

Thunder and turf! How had he allowed himself to fall into such a predicament? He knew not how long he stared at the ceiling.

A knock sounded at his door, and Franklin stepped inside. “Your brother’s response has arrived.”

Miles waved Franklin over and tore open the sealed missive. He unfolded it and quickly read it over.

Brother,

Meet Finsbury and me at Brooks’s at two.

Freddie

Miles frowned. That was still hours away. What was he to do until then? He glanced down at his portefeuille and sighed. Perhaps now that a plan was at least in place for unraveling the disaster that consumed his life, he could concentrate on poor Miss Barrington.

“Thank you, Franklin. My brother included the response from Finsbury also. There is no need to interrupt with his reply. I’ll wait to read it until I’m done.”

“Very good, sir.” He took a step towards the door. “Are you not at home, then?”

Miles frowned. “It depends on the visitor.” He twitched his mouth to the side. “I am at home to my father—not that I expect him to visit—or my brother and Fin.” He paused. “And if a Miss Jenkins should happen by, I would see her also.” He knew such a visit was highly unlikely and completely improper. But he would always hold out hope that Grace would come around to him.

“Very good, sir.” Franklin bowed and closed the door behind him.

Miles put his head down and stared at his portefeuille. He sucked in a deep breath, pushing all thoughts of Grace and ‘the incident’ from his mind. He had to focus. He could not let his profession crumble into as big of a mess as his personal life.

* * *

Miles opened the front door of Brooks’s and stepped into the entryway. A porter greeted him. “I’m to meet Lord Finsbury and Lord Weymouth.” He instructed the man.

“They are waiting for you in the parlor. Please, follow me.” The porter led him down a corridor and into a public parlor, crowded with gentlemen. A group in the far corner talked with raised voices about politics.

Miles stared at them in fascination as he bumbled his way into the only vacant chair in the room. “It’s crowded this afternoon.”

Freddie raised a single brow. “And noisy. If you would put in for membership, we could meet somewhere quieter.”

Miles shrugged. Perhaps Fin and Freddie were correct. It would be better to discuss his problem in a more private setting, would it not? He glanced back over at the loud group in the corner. Although with the amount of noise they were making, could anyone eavesdrop on Miles’ conversation? It seemed unlikely.

He turned his attention back to Fin and Freddie. “I’ll make the arrangements.” He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward so he need not shout at them. “But first, I need your help.”

Fin leaned forward, assuming a similar position to Miles. “So it seemed by your note.”

Freddie joined them. “Yes, when I saw you had underlined ‘immediately,’ I knew it must be serious.” He smirked at them.

Fin gave Freddie a look. At least one of them was there to help.

Miles ran a hand down his face. “I have made a complete muddle of things with Grace—er, Miss Jenkins.”

Freddie shrugged non-committally. “I expected nothing less, if I’m being honest.”

Fin nodded. “Yes, I had my concerns. And really, you need not pretend the formality with us. We know you think of her by her Christian name.”

Miles stared blandly at his friend. Must he point out the inappropriateness of it?

“How did you muck it all up?” Freddie asked with his finger poised over his lips, his chin resting on his thumbs.

“I introduced her to the gentlemen you suggested.” He frowned. “Except Thornby. He was not in attendance. At least not that I saw.”

Fin sighed. “As you’ll recall, we were there, too. Indeed, we almost got pulled into Mrs. Courser’s trap because of you.”

Freddie smiled. “But thanks to your Miss Jenkins, I was saved.”

Miles released a heavy breath. “She is not my Miss Jenkins. Indeed, after she discovers what I’ve done, I can guarantee she never will be.”

“Which is why we are here, is it not? Could you move along to the part of the story we do not yet know?” Freddie waved his hands in front of him.

“Jenkins invited me to have breakfast with him the next morning. When I arrived, there was an entryway full of bouquets.”

Fin nodded. “That is hardly unusual. It’s customary to send flowers to your dance partners following a ball. You sent her flowers, did you not, Weymouth?”

Freddie nodded. “I did. It would be unseemly not to.”

Miles waited until the two shut up about flowers. That was not the important part of the story. “Are you quite finished?”

Freddie shrugged. “You brought them up. Why mention them if they weren’t important?”

Miles shook his head and continued. “Grace seemed happy enough with all the bouquets.” He held up his hand to stave off any further conversation about flowers. “But then Jenkins informed me that one of the gentlemen—Dunsmore, to be precise—had sent him a card asking if he might escort Grace to the Exeter ‘Change Menagerie.”

Fin frowned. “A rather odd place to take a lady for the first outing, is it not?”

“That is not the point,” Miles snapped.

“Then what is? Did you not wish for her to go places with these gentlemen so she might see their undesirability?” Freddie asked. He looked close to losing interest in the whole conversation. Miles needed to hurry the explanation along.

“It was, yes.” Miles bit his lip. This was the part of the story he did not relish sharing. It was rather an embarrassing thing to admit. Even to Freddie and Fin.

“I’m not seeing anything you’ve done wrong,” Fin said and sat back. “Are you certain you’re not just overreacting?”

“I went to the menagerie,” Miles blurted out.

Fin leaned forward again, his head twisted to the side, as if he thought his hearing was in error. “I beg your pardon?”

Miles frowned. “I’m not sure how it happened, but I found myself outside the menagerie waiting for them to arrive. I just wanted to see how much she was not enjoying herself with Dunsmore.” He shook his head and studied his hands. “I wanted to peek at them. And then I was in the menagerie, and I rubbed at my face, in frustration, and then everything went awry.” He looked up to see if either of them understood why he’d done it. But there was no understanding—only slack jaws.

“You followed her on the outing?” Freddie looked confused. Or perhaps horrified. Miles wasn’t certain which. “Were you caught?”

“No, I stayed back and joined another group of people.”

“Did you know them?” Fin asked.

Miles shook his head. “No, if I had, would that not mean I’d been caught?”

Fin slowly nodded. “Then if no one saw you, how did you make a muddle of it?” He lifted a brow. “Other than the notion that you were there at all. We know you were there. But no one else knows, correct?”

Miles rubbed at his eyes as if that would remove the memory of ‘the incident.’ “I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but one of the monkeys took notice of me and imitated my every move.”

Fin’s brows slowly inched up with each word as if he knew what was coming. But how could he know? How could anyone anticipate what had happened?

“Dunsmore said something to Grace, and she laughed.” Miles shook his head. “When has Dunsmore ever said anything humorous? Why would Grace laugh at what he said? She hasn’t laughed at anything I’ve said in weeks.”

Freddie cleared his throat and motioned for him to move the story along.

Miles sighed. “I don’t know what came over me, but I pretended to throw something at the monkey. He made a loud screeching noise and picked up something from the floor of his cage.” Miles lowered his voice. “Then he threw it between the cage bars.”

Fin let out a howl of laughter. “Oh, please say that it hit him.”

Miles’ head slowly shook. “Worse. It hit Grace.”

With wide eyes, Freddie dropped his head back and laughed. Not simply a chuckle or a guffaw. But a rib-aching, tear-inducing laugh.

Miles glared at him.

Fin, for his part, had sobered slightly. But Miles could see his shoulders shaking and the pool of moisture in the bottom of his lids.

“How can you laugh about it!” He raged, drawing unwanted attention from several groups in the parlor. He dropped his voice to a harsh whisper. “I completely ruined her gown. And to make matters worse, Dunsmore, the scoundrel, left them on the pavement outside the menagerie because he thought she might soil his squabs.” His heart thudded painfully against his ribs as he relayed the story. His anger at Dunsmore renewed. “After I’d fled the scene, I happened by in my carriage?—”

“You happened by?” Freddie asked with renewed laughter.

“Yes,” Miles scowled at his brother. “ I happened by and found them. I took them on to Bloomsbury.”

Freddie wiped the tears from his eyes, “Maggots and misfortune, Miles. Are you in earnest? It sounds too farcical to be true.”

Miles dropped his face in his hands. “If only it were.”

Fin rubbed at his eyes, but when he looked up, he was the picture of contrition. “You are the only person I know, Miles, who could have such a story be true.” He leaned forward. “But if they didn’t discover you, what do you need from us?”

Miles sat back and crossed one knee over the other, trying to look unaffected by their reaction to his misadventure. “I feel as though I should tell her my role in it. But?—”

“No,” Freddie shouted, earning them another look from the others in the room.

Miles stared at them. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I mean, don’t tell her,” Freddie defended.

“But I have to. She and her family think I’m a hero for rescuing Grace and Mrs. Jenkins after Dunsmore left them to fend for themselves. They have all thanked me for being there for them. But they don’t know it was my fault.”

Freddie shook his head. “Do you want her to choose you over those other men?”

Miles nodded.

“Then you can’t tell her. She will be furious with you and will never forgive you.”

Fin rolled his lips between his teeth. He stared at Miles but slowly nodded. “I hate to agree with Freddie?—”

“I beg your pardon,” Freddie whined.

Fin shrugged at him. “But he may have the right of it. Stay the hero.”

Miles collapsed back against his chair. “But I feel guilty every time I think about it. Or when they mention it.” He put a hand to his chest. “She asked her maid to burn the gown. They don’t have the money to burn gowns she has only worn a time or two.”

“Send her a bolt of fabric or engage a modiste to replace the gown,” Freddie urged. “But do not tell her your role.”

“I already delivered a bolt this morning.” He raised his brows. “For which they now believe me even more of a hero for taking ‘my friend’s’ mistakes upon myself. I’m not sure I can take much more praise.”

Freddie lifted a shoulder. “Best let sleeping dogs lie. Her ignorance on the matter won’t hurt her. But you telling her your role surely will.”

“But what if she discovers it some other way?” Miles pleaded.

“Are you certain no one you know saw you there?” Fin asked.

Miles shrugged. “I did not see anyone else I know. But then, I was rather singularly focused.”

“The only way she will find out is if someone saw you there. But I think they would have made themselves known to you either at the time or since. Especially considering what happened.” Freddie’s mouth ticked up as he obviously recalled the details of the story. He shook his head. “That was a fair bit of bad luck, Miles.”

Fin shook his head, too. “I think this was all Miles. I don’t think you can lay any of it at luck’s feet.” He gave Miles a pitying look. “But you should put it behind you and press forward.” He lifted a shoulder. “Dunsmore played his part perfectly. I suppose there is some comfort to be had in that.”

Miles looked at him as if he were daft. “Very little comfort, I thank you.”

“What?” He asked. “She’ll likely cast Dunsmore aside.” Fin smiled as if that should make everything better.

“A happy thought, indeed.” Miles scoffed.

“Now that we’ve settled your matter,” Freddie leaned back and intertwined his fingers in front of his chest, “did you receive word that Evie and Ari have come to Town?”

Miles released a breath, happy for the change in subjects. “No. I thought they were to stay in Somerset.”

Freddie shrugged. “Aunt Lindy was called to Shropshire. Our cousin is nearing confinement, and she required help with the other children.”

“Does she not have a nurse?” Miles had heard all about the impending birth when he was home at Christmastide.

“The nurse has taken ill—the doctor suspects the ague—and has been removed from the house. Aunt insisted on taking over the care of the household and children herself.”

Miles smiled. “I should send Cousin Matilde a letter of thanks. It will be delightful to have Ari and Evie in London.”

“As should I. They are taking some of Father’s attention off me. And that is always a welcome occurrence.” Freddie slouched and swung a leg over the arm of the chair. It seemed the formal part of this meeting was over. “Why do you not come to dinner? I’m certain our sisters would love to see you.”

“You couldn’t keep me away,” Miles smiled. Finally. Something to keep his mind off of Grace.