Page 14 of I Never Forget a Duke (The Night Fire Club #1)

L ark realized with a start that he’d woken up in the bed of Anthony Pearson, the Marquess of Beresford and that enough sunlight was streaming through the window that it must be well into the morning.

He hadn’t intended to spend the night. He’d run into Anthony at the club last night when he’d gone there to tell Owen and Fletcher the news about Hugh. He’d let Anthony talk him into bed again, but he’d only meant to have sex and then leave. Instead he’d fallen asleep.

Anthony’s arm was draped over Lark’s middle, which was endearing.

Lark liked Anthony; he was a beautiful if arrogant man with hair that was unfashionably long and piercing green eyes.

Anthony was a little too sure of himself; the way he propositioned Lark always made Lark want to put up some token resistance, just to show that Anthony would not always get his way.

But he always succumbed. He never regretted their time in bed together, which seemed to be more frequent lately than the occasional dalliance.

But there was no future in it.

“Lark,” Anthony said softly.

Lark turned to look at Anthony. “I did not mean to stay here all night.”

Anthony yawned. “I am not angry.”

“I have many things to attend to today.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“We cannot let things like this happen. If we were caught—”

“We won’t be.”

“And besides, one day we’ll be married, and—”

“I’ve no intention of marrying.”

Lark let out a frustrated grunt. “I’m afraid I do not have that liberty. Nor do I relish having to explain to my future wife that I will be sleeping at my male lover’s house.”

“Is that really any different from telling her about your female lover. And I know you’ve had a few of those, too.”

“Consider a gently bred woman of the ton . A pretty little virgin debutante like my mother wants for me. She barely knows what men and women do in the bedroom, how will she begin to comprehend what men like you and I do?”

“Why would you tell her? Plenty of married men have lovers they do not tell their wives about.”

“That doesn’t seem dishonest to you?”

Anthony shrugged. “This is why I don’t intend to marry.”

“So you would just let the Beresford title die with you?”

“It’ll pass to my cousin.” Anthony yawned. “You have had female lovers, yes?”

“Yes.” Lark liked sharing his bed with both men and women.

He’d ended an affair a few months before he started spending time with Anthony; she was an older widow who knew her way around men’s bodies and had no interest in marrying again.

The trick in all of these affairs, though, was to keep his heart from getting ensnared.

He’d ended things with his widow when the emotional attachment had made it too difficult to leave her side, and he suspected that was becoming the case here, too. “What does that matter?”

“I’d feel jealous, but you are here with me and not one of them, so I’m afraid I only feel gratitude that I’m the one you keep coming back to.”

“You make it sound like this is some lengthy love affair.”

“We had an affair at Eton, did we not?”

“I highly doubt a bit of groping when we were boys constitutes an affair. And as I recall, your attentions were not limited to just me.”

“No, but your enthusiasm always made you my favorite.”

“Enthusiasm?”

Anthony stroked the side of Lark’s face. “Let us just say that some of the boys I groped, as you so delicately put it, merely wanted their cocks stroked. You actually wanted me . You still do.”

Lark didn’t say anything, even though it was true.

“I am glad that your enthusiasm has translated into some actual skill and technique over the years.”

Lark lay on his back for a long moment and then looked around for a clock.

A large, ornate one stood in the corner.

Lark had to squint to read the time but saw that it was still quite early in the morning.

He had time to go home, change clothes, drop by the Swynford home to speak with the duchess, and then collect Owen and Fletcher at the appointed time. He sighed.

“Mentally going through your calendar for the day?” asked Anthony.

“Yes. I have several personal errands to attend to today.”

“Do any of them have anything to do with the Duke of Swynford?”

Lark knew that if he said nothing, Anthony would interpret his answer as the affirmative.

“Should I be jealous?” asked Anthony.

“Never, and Swynford is missing, which I assume you know because your devotion to the scandal sheets is greater than mine. I discovered something yesterday and I want to follow up on it, that is all.”

“So you don’t think he’s dead?”

“No, I don’t. But I do think foul play is involved. And I see your expression, so I will just say that I do not know how or who and that is all I will say about it.”

“Very well. I just hope you do not show Swynford the same enthusiasm you show me.”

And this was the real reason why Anthony would only ever be a diversion. He reveled too much in his own nonsense. “I have never, and Swynford is only interested in women. Besides which, you have no right to be jealous.”

“Don’t I?”

Lark rolled his eyes and got out of bed. “You aren’t my wife. We have no legally binding relationship. I could bed half the men in London and it wouldn’t make any difference.”

“It would to me. Are you bedding half the men in London?”

“No. Only you, as it happens.”

“Ah.” Anthony nodded as if he now understood something he hadn’t before. “I guess I have nothing to worry about then.”

Lark wanted to inquire about that but concentrated on getting dressed instead.

He was somewhat alarmed by the fact that his clothing was neatly folded and placed on a chair, which meant some silent servant had come in while they slept and picked up his clothes from where they’d been tossed on the floor.

“Servants talk,” Lark said as he slid on his shirt.

“I pay mine not to. Do you need a hand?”

“I—” Lark snapped his mouth closed, not sure how to answer. His valet normally helped him dress, but it wasn’t like he was incapable of pulling on his clothes.

Anthony got out of bed and helped Lark with his buttons. When Lark was dressed, Anthony ran his hands over his waistcoat to make sure everything was smooth. Lark found the gesture sweet, though he didn’t want to.

“I know a fellow,” said Anthony. “He fell in love with a solicitor, of all people. They went to America, where I suppose all things are possible, or at least where his title meant nothing, and as far as I know, they are living happily ever after on some estate in Virginia.”

“I’ll wager your friend is not heir to a dukedom.”

“Well, no. His father is a viscount, but he’s the third son.”

“Mm-hmm.” Lark shrugged into his jacket and eyed Anthony, trying to convey that he rested his case.

“Fine. Give me a few minutes to make myself presentable and I’ll walk you out.”

*

The conversation with Anthony that morning was still sitting uneasily with Lark as he collected his friends to call on Hugh.

Something about Anthony’s cavalier attitude, like nothing could touch him and he could live as he pleased, made Lark worry.

One of these days, Anthony would walk into a trap and great harm would come to him, and there was little Lark could do to stop it.

In the meantime, Lark could feel himself becoming increasingly ensnared by Anthony and he worried he wouldn’t be able to extricate himself when the time came.

But he had to set all that aside for now.

As Owen climbed into the carriage, Lark asked, “What is new?”

“Parliament business.”

Fletcher, who was already seated, rolled his eyes. “Who cares?”

Owen grunted. “Lark said our dear friend is staying with Canbury’s daughter. I thought what is going on with Parliament might be relevant.”

“I don’t think it is.” Lark shook his head. “But fine. What is it?”

“Well, Parliament was indeed called to session because Prinny has some sort of urban planning proposal that involves building several new roads that slice through the middle of London, mostly to make the distance between Carlton House and Prinny’s mistresses more direct.

” Owen rolled his eyes. “Someone please tell me why I decided taking my father’s house in Lords was a good idea. ”

“I tried to talk you out of it, as I recall,” said Lark.

“Anyway, Canbury gave an impassioned speech on the importance of better roads in London, which is fair enough, but it was clear he was trying to ingratiate himself to ol’ Georgie Boy.”

“Does anyone actually call him Georgie Boy?” Lark asked Fletcher.

“Not to his face.”

“As I was saying,” said Owen, “Canbury is definitely angling to become Lord Chancellor or gain some other government position, and he’s apparently willing to kiss Prinny’s shoes to win over the honor. But then!”

Lark glanced at Fletcher, who shrugged. Lark had not the foggiest idea what this had to do with anything, and apparently Fletcher didn’t either.

Owen went on, “Lord Saxon got up and gave a speech about the abolition of slavery in the West Indies, to which George Baxter took great offense.” George Baxter was the Earl of Collingswood, Hugh’s cousin.

That did hook Lark’s attention. Collingswood and Hugh had some bad blood between them.

“Of course he did,” said Fletcher dismissively. “All of his money is from sugar picked by slaves on his plantation in Jamaica.”

“I heard a far more devastating rumor.”

When Owen did not speak more, Lark leaned forward and said, “What?”

“There was a story buried deep in Times a few days ago about a series of slave rebellions in Jamaica. This resulted in a great deal of property damage and many slaves running away. Some think there is an organized independence movement, like in Haiti.”

“I hope there is,” said Fletcher. “Slavery is a vile institution.”

Owen nodded. “I agree. The rumor is that the Collingswood plantation was hit especially hard. Some structures burned down and about half the enslaved people escaped. Collingswood is out thousands upon thousands of dollars, or so the rumor goes. He is agitating for stricter laws in British territories.”

That nauseated Lark. “Collingswood is a swine. That is horrific.” But he was swiftly sorting through what little he knew of Collingswood. The hit to his estate could put him in dangerous territory financially. Would he sniff around his wealthy cousin to get the money he needed for repairs.

“It is just a rumor,” said Owen, clearly not drawing the same conclusion Lark was. “I do not know if it’s true, but either way, he opposes the abolition of slavery.”

“Slavery should be abolished,” said Fletcher. “It is barbaric.”

“You are not wrong. Abolition is gaining some traction in Parliament. Saxon made a moral argument about amassing fortunes on the backs of humans, which I found compelling. I think many other MPs did, too.”

“You do not own a plantation in Jamaica,” said Lark.

“That is true, but I do have an estate in Wales with tenants who farm my land. I’ve been working with my land steward on the sheep farm for ways we can maximize profits while still treating my tenants and employees fairly.

It is possible to turn a profit without relying on slave labor.

However, that would require an ounce of cleverness, ingenuity, and organization that George Baxter does not possess. ”

“True,” said Lark.

“I imagine Hugh would have more to say on the topic,” said Fletcher.

“Perhaps not at the moment,” said Lark. He shook his head. He’d known Collingswood since childhood and had never liked him. He definitely didn’t trust him not to harm Hugh if it came to that. He made a mental note to dig into that at a later date.

“What do you mean?” asked Fletcher.

Lark took a deep breath. “I will warn you, Hugh is not quite himself. He still seems rather confused.”

“His memory is missing, you said,” said Fletcher.

“Yes. Canbury’s daughter has been taking care of him, and she seems to have done a good job so far.

She is quite protective of him, in fact.

And I believe they may have grown fond of each other in his convalescence.

Difficult to tell, but I thought I saw something in their dynamic when I visited yesterday. ”

Fletcher pursed his lips. “Do you think that is something we should discourage?”

“Hard to say. I spent some time with her yesterday, and I was impressed by her intelligence. She is also quite pretty, although not in a showy way.”

“Why had I heard Canbury’s daughter was an ugly old spinster?” said Fletcher.

“She is a spinster, but she is not very old. I did not ask, but I’d wager she is five or six and twenty at most.”

“Still,” said Owen, “she is Canbury’s daughter. He’s a farce.”

“I wonder at times if someone is spreading false tales about him to discourage his pursuit of the Lord Chancellor position,” said Fletcher. “He has many political rivals.”

“Beresford says the rumors are not true.”

Both men turned to look at Lark.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” said Lark. “You were there when he said as much a few nights ago.”

“Yes,” said Owen. “I never believed the rumor about Canbury wearing women’s clothing. But some of the rest has a ring of truth…”

“Well. I can’t speak to that.”

Fletcher regarded Lark with a raised eyebrow. “So when Beresford secrets you away at the club, are you discussing this gossip?”

“It comes up in conversation sometimes,” was all Lark was willing to volunteer.

“Beresford would know about the Canbury rumors,” said Owen with a certain amount of disdain.

“What do you mean by that?” asked Lark.

“Nothing. Forget I said anything. Oh, look, we’re here.”

They had indeed slowed in front of the Sweeney house. “Behave, my friends. Since I am fairly certain Lady Adele will not leave Hugh’s side, we are about to be in the presence of a lady.”

“I’ll behave,” said Fletcher. “I can’t speak for Owen.”

“Get out of the carriage,” grumbled Owen.