Page 3 of An Impulsive Kiss (Captivating Kisses #2)
London—April
J udson Jarvis, Marquess of Huntsberry, sat patiently as Tim shaved him.
“Almost finished, my lord,” the valet said.
“I am not in any hurry.”
He only wish he had something to hurry to. His life was one of ease. Great wealth had come to him once he had reached his majority. Of course, he had held the title from the time he was a boy, but his uncle had held the purse strings for almost a dozen years. Fortunately, Judson’s father, knowing he was in extremely poor health, had hired Mr. Baker, the leading solicitor in London, to make out his will. He didn’t know all the particulars. All Judson did know was that Uncle Jeremiah was at the mercy of Mr. Baker. He could barely spend a farthing without having to clear the expense with the solicitor, something which Judson had not known at the time.
Baker had waited until Judson was ready to go away to Cambridge before he had requested an appointment with the marquess. At their meeting, he had explained that all Judson’s school fees and living expenses would be paid for, as well as a quarterly allowance provided for miscellaneous items. Baker then explained how he had, in effect, hamstrung Uncle Jeremiah as far as expenditures went. While Judson had wrongly believed his uncle poured through the estate’s money and worried if anything would be left by the time he could claim control, he learned his uncle had lied. Baker—and Judson’s father—had protected him well. Huntsworth thrived. Other investments in shipping, land, and banking also were doing quite well.
He had kept Baker on since he managed all the holdings. Now, the solicitor worked only for the Marquess of Huntsberry.
Judson had given Uncle Jeremiah his choice of a cottage, free and clear, on Huntsworth lands, or a small quarterly allowance. He had chosen the latter, taking rooms in town, but the amount was so little that Uncle Jeremiah could not live in style. All transactions went through Baker, and Judson had not seen his uncle in several years now.
He had an excellent steward who sent regular reports, ones Judson didn’t bother to read. He never went to Huntsworth, instead choosing to stay in town year-round. Judson knew nothing about running a large estate and chose not to do so. In fact, he had closed the country house and hired a caretaker. The man and his wife checked it regularly to make certain no one had broken into the house. The furniture had been covered and all the servants had been let go with glowing references.
Since he had nothing to do every single day, Judson had grown increasingly bored. He couldn’t imagine continuing in this pattern for the next several decades. Because of this boredom, he took risks. Often. He raced his phaeton regularly and had never lost a contest. He rode his horse like a demon straight from Hell. He gambled frequently and couldn’t seem to lose. Oh, he did experience the occasional loss, but his luck always rebounded, and by the end of the evening, any loss in a gaming hell had been erased many times over.
He supposed he should wed in order to secure an heir, but the thought of having a wife who would no doubt nag him and children he couldn’t care less about simply did not appeal to him. Perhaps in another ten years, he might consider marriage. After all, he was only eight and twenty. In the meantime, he had his needs meet by his mistress. Antonia Amato had served in that role for the past five years. He only kept a mistress because of his fear of disease in the brothels frequented by men of the ton . Judson only saw Antonia once or twice a month. Even then, he was starting to be bored by her, too.
Was he destined to go through life so jaded?
Tim finished shaving him, cleaning Judson’s face and dabbing cologne on his neck. It was a blend of Tim’s own making. The former footman was clever. Once Judson took control of the marquessate, he elevated Tim from footman to valet, since his uncle had never allowed him to have one, and began giving the servant books to read. Tim proved as voracious a reader as Judson himself, and they spent many hours discussing what they had read, be it novels, plays, or items in the London newspapers.
In truth, Tim was his only friend.
Minutes later, Judson was dressed for the day. He went down to the breakfast room, a small, cheery room that got plenty of sunlight. There, he drank a cup of tea and ate his usual breakfast of two eggs, ham, and toast points slathered with marmalade. After, he took the morning post into his study and went through it. Invitations for the upcoming Season, which began in a week, were flooding in, as usual. Some years, he took in a few of the events. Other times, he skipped weeks’ worth of them. Even when he did respond to an invitation, indicating he would show at some social affair, a hostess never quite knew whether or not that would be the case.
Still, the invitations continued to come, simply because he was a marquess. An unwed marquess. That meant he was always highly sought after at any affair he attended. Eager mamas fawned over him, thrusting their daughters into his path. Girls making their come-outs set their caps for him. Or so he’d read in the gossip columns.
The whole Season was a bloody bore.
But at least it gave him something different to do for a few months when he did decide to attend an event. The card room was always full at balls. He would dance a few times, giving hope to many females, and then disappear for hours into the card room. He actually enjoyed dancing, which was why he chose to show up at a ball every now and then. Garden parties were a bore. Musicales were even worse. He cared nothing for music. Antonia had been an opera singer and was always wanting to sing for him, but he had no interest in hearing her.
He did enjoy going to the theater, though. Judson always had a box at several of the theaters in town. He sat in them alone because he had no one whom he wished to invite to accompany him to a production.
Taking in today’s round of invitations, he decided not to reply to any of them. So far, he had yet to promise a single hostess he would attend her event. Instead, he would place them in chronological order and decide the morning of whether or not he would go. No hostess in London would deny him entrance into their affair. It would save him time writing replies, and he would simply pick and choose when and where to go as he always had.
A knock sounded on his door, and he said, “Come,” knowing it would be Clippman, informing him his carriage was ready. Judson went to White’s each morning and drank coffee as he perused the newspapers. It was something he enjoyed.
And there weren’t many things he did.
Forcing himself to meet his butler’s eyes with confidence, he asked, “Is my carriage ready?”
“Yes, my lord,” the butler replied.
Part of him wanted to let Clippman and his wife go, simply because they were a part of his past. They had witnessed the aftermath of what his uncle put him through. Time and again, Jeremiah Jarvis beat his nephew. His uncle had not only been physically abusive, but he had pushed his nephew to physical limits no one should have to face, all in the name of making him a man. Judson had been made to run, no matter what the weather, until he was ready to drop. He also lifted weights. Jeremiah finally taught him to swim, only to have Judson swim daily when he was home from school. As much as he hated the torment he faced from his classmates, it was even more difficult to return to Huntsworth, knowing he would be swimming across the lake on the property even in December.
That was a large reason why he never went to Huntsworth now. His memories of the country estate were ones he wished to forget.
He knew he would never terminate the Clippmans’ employment. The couple excelled at their positions, and his London household ran without any problems. Or if there were any, he never heard about them. Still, there were times he wished neither of them knew what he had suffered through. Only they and Tim were left from the old days. The rest of his staff in town had not known him as a boy.
Shoving aside those thoughts, Judson went out to his carriage. His driver knew without instructions to take him to White’s since it was part of the daily routine. Because London was on the brink of beginning a new Season, though, the place would be filled. He preferred White’s being a calm environment the rest of the year, a refuge which he sought.
He left the carriage once they arrived and entered, Pollard greeting him.
“It is good to see you this morning, Lord Huntsberry. Tommy will bring your coffee to you as soon as you are seated.” Pollard looked apologetic, adding, “The place is quite full this morning, my lord.”
Judson began walking through the rooms, seeing it was worse than he’d feared. He rarely spoke to others and never sat with anyone at the club. This morning, though, seats were filled in every room, and he realized he would have to sit not only near but with others.
Entering another morning room, he glanced about, spying someone he vaguely knew. Lord Dyer was usually in the company of Lord Claibourne, but today, Claibourne was nowhere in sight. Instead, in his place, Viscount Dyer sat with someone Judson had seen upon occasion, starting last spring. Seeing the only available spot was with these two gentlemen, he approached them.
“Good morning, my lords,” he greeted. “Is this chair taken?”
Surprise filled Dyer’s face. “No, my lord. Please, join us.”
He did so and almost immediately, Tommy appeared with coffee and Judson’s favorite newspaper.
After Tommy left, Judson fully intended to avoid any further conversation and simply read his newspaper, but Lord Dyer said, “If I may, my lord, I would like to introduce you to the Marquess of Aldridge. This is Lord Huntsberry.”
Not wishing to appear churlish, Judson accepted the offered hand and shook it.
“It seems we are neighbors,” Lord Aldridge said. “In Surrey.”
He thought for a moment. “Aldridge Manor? You are from there?”
“I am, my lord.”
“I am never in the country,” he said flatly. “You will only see me here in town.”
Aldridge nodded. “That is what my steward told me. Ross has become friendly with your Mr. Wayling.”
“Wayling is most efficient. Because of that, I have no need to visit Huntsworth.”
He took up his paper, not wishing for further conversation, but he couldn’t help but listen to his companions’ conversation. From it, he gleaned that Lady Aldridge’s father, the Duke of Millbrooke, had recently passed and the two men had attended His Grace’s funeral. Judson never read the obituaries in any of the newspapers. He had no interest in who was born, wed, or buried in Polite Society.
“Lucy is incredibly disappointed that she will not be able to make her come-out with Lia and Tia,” Lord Dyer said. “She is grateful, though, that you and Ariadne will help smooth the way and help introduce her into Polite Society.”
Aldridge chuckled. “It seems a bit ironic that I am helping your sister meet others of the ton when this time last year, I knew none of them myself. Thanks to you and Val, though, it led me to wedded bliss with Ariadne.”
Judson thought it unusual this new marquess had not known a soul from Polite Society. He recalled the previous Lord Aldridge had no children, despite wedding thrice. This man must be a distant cousin of the deceased Aldridge. He was dressed in a refined manner, but he had the look of someone rough and tumble.
Impulsively, he set his newspaper aside and asked, “Do you ever box, Aldridge?”
“No, my lord, though I have done my fair share of brawling in the past. I do not see the point in studying an art form which has rules. If I ever do take up my fists again, it will be to defend myself or protect my family.”
He thought the marquess’ answer interesting—and cryptic.
“If you do not pursue boxing, my lord, what are you interested in to pass the time? Racehorses? Gambling?”
Aldridge looked at him dismissively, a look Judson no one had dared give him in years, piquing his interest even more.
“I have a lovely wife and a newborn daughter, my lord,” Aldridge continued. “My marchioness and I also devote a good deal of time to our orphanage.”
“Orphanage?” he asked, confused.
When the marquess merely glared at him, Lord Dyer jumped into the conversation. “Lord and Lady Aldridge purchased Oakbrooke Orphanage last year. They have staffed it and volunteer their time a couple of days a week, helping to teach the children who reside there. Why, they know the name of every child,” the viscount declared.
Hearing that, his opinion of Lord Aldridge improved significantly.
“So, you do not waste your time in pursuit of pleasure.”
“I only pleasure my wife,” Aldridge said, a wicked gleam in his eye.
Judson burst out laughing, something he could not remember doing for years.
“Why such dedication to an orphanage?” he pressed, wanting to understand this unusual man better.
With defiance in his eyes now, Aldridge said, “I came from a background unlike those in Polite Society. My wife is the one whose tender heart led to encouraging me to aid those in need. Last year, we took on Oakbrooke Orphanage. This year, we are starting a program which will help clothe the poor and those in need in London. I am fortunate to be in a position now of great wealth and power. Ariadne is the one who has insisted because of our wealth, we must do what we can to assist others who need our help.”
He nodded. “Your marchioness sounds most interesting, Aldridge. I cannot think of a single lady in the ton who would want to give money to the poor directly, much less be so involved with her time.”
An unfamiliar look appeared in the marquess’ eyes. “There is no one like my Ariadne,” he said softly, causing Judson to realize the pair was a love match.
With a spontaneity he didn’t know existed within him, Judson said, “I wish to donate to your cause, my lord. Both Oakbrooke Orphanage and this plan to clothe the needy of London.”
Both men looked stunned by his words. Lord Aldridge recovered first and said, “That is most gracious of you, Huntsberry. Perhaps we could have you come to tea this afternoon and discuss the matter. You could meet my wife.”
Judson hadn’t been invited to tea. Ever. Since he had no friends, invitations to such personal times as tea never occurred.
The marquess added, “There will be other family members at tea this afternoon. Lord Dyer’s parents and sister. You are still most welcome, however.”
Intrigued by this man and his marchioness, he heard himself say, “I am happy to come to tea, my lord. I will be there this afternoon.”
Lord Aldridge provided his address to Judson, and he said, “If you will now excuse me, I am off to Gentleman Jackson’s gymnasium.”
It surprised him when Lord Dyer said, “I, too, was going to the boxing academy next. Perhaps we might go together, my lord.”
This was turning into a most unusual morning.
“If you wish,” he said off-handedly but then added, “It was good meeting you, Aldridge. I look forward to meeting Lady Aldridge, as well.”
The marquess inclined his head, and Judson left White’s in Lord Dyer’s company.
“My carriage is this way,” he said, leading the viscount to the vehicle.
The two men climbed into the carriage. He had not had to make conversation in so long that he did not know how to even begin as the vehicle started up. Small talk had never been his strong suit.
“I want to thank you,” his companion said. “For what you did at school. I know it is many years later, but I do not know if anyone ever acknowledged your efforts, much less thanked you for them.”
Feeling uncomfortable, Judson asked, “And what are you speaking of, Dyer?”
“My cousin Val and I were a few years behind you. We saw how you handled bullies. You were quite the champion for boys who were smaller than their peers. Defenseless. Fortunately, Val and I were always a decent size and had one another’s backs, but we witnessed you putting a bully in his place. School proved to be a much more pleasant place for so many, thanks to you, Huntsberry.”
The viscount’s words took Judson back to a time he wished to forget. He had hit a growth spurt and, thanks to the rigorous, physical tasks his uncle forced upon him, Judson had not only grown tall, but he had also grown incredibly strong.
First, he had taken care of boys his own age who had bullied him. When he was done with them, they were simpering cowards who promised never to hurt another boy again. Then he had taken on boys older than he was. Thanks to his size and strength—and endurance for pain—he had made mincemeat of them, as well. Word had spread quickly throughout the population that no one was to bully any boy—else he would face the wrath of Judson Jarvis, the Marquess of Huntsberry.
Only twice after that had he needed to put his fists to good use, catching on separate occasions two bullies who thought to defy his edict. One was left with a broken nose and arm. He claimed he had a terrible nightmare and fell out of bed, injuring himself. The boy always turned and moved in the opposite direction when he spied Judson. Eaton, the other boy, had more serious injuries and had withdrawn from school.
Judson had faced no consequences. Not one boy had stepped forward, willing to speak against him, especially since he was protecting so many of the vulnerable. He had never had friends because other boys had always been afraid to befriend him when he was being bullied, fearing they would be caught up in the web of torment. After he increased rapidly in size and strength, every student was too afraid to even approach him. Being friendless had continued throughout his schooldays and university years.
And even until now.
He looked at the man who sat across from him. Would things change? Might he form a friendship with Lords Dyer and Aldridge?
The thought intrigued him.
Realizing that he had not answered the viscount, Judson said, “There is no need to thank me, Dyer. That was many, many years ago.”
“Half the boys were too afraid to speak their gratitude to you, while the other half were merely in awe of you. That was Val and myself. This is years late in coming, Huntsberry, but on my behalf and that of my cousin, now the Duke of Millbrooke, I give a heartfelt thanks to you.”
Judson realized he felt a strange glow inside. After so many years of being on his own, aloof and withdrawn from others, hope sprang within him. He might actually make a friend.
And find some purpose in his existence.