Page 11 of King of Clubs (The Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society #9)

J oshua entered Lady Emmerton’s drawing room and looked around. Just off to one side of the room was exactly the person he was looking for; the one person who would make his life so much easier.

It was almost never that such a thing could be said for the most notorious gossip in Town, but tonight, that was precisely who he needed. He made a beeline for Lady Findlater.

“Good evening, ladies,” he said, joining the lady and her almost constant companion, Lady Wraxley. The two women had had their heads together, most likely discussing some poor soul and tearing her to shreds.

They both jumped guiltily.

“Oh, Lord Wickford, how lovely to see you this evening,” Lady Findlater said, not looking at all happy, but then she rarely did.

“And you.” He smiled at them. “I was wondering if I might beg for your assistance, my lady?”

He was greeted with stunned looks from both ladies for a moment before Lady Findlater attempted a smile. “But of course, my lord. You know I am always at your disposal.”

“You are too good. I have decided to marry,” he told them. They resumed their shocked expressions. “And I was wondering if you might introduce to me some young ladies—those who you feel might be right for me?”

Lady Wraxley’s mouth actually dropped. She snapped it shut after a moment.

“I would be more than happy to, my lord. I assume you are looking at this year’s crop of new girls?” Lady Findlater asked.

“Yes, I thought that was where I would start. Do you know any who you particularly like?” If these ladies liked someone, you could be sure they would be impeccably bred. They might not be the prettiest or the nicest girls, but they would definitely be from the best families, and that was Joshua’s number one criteria.

“Hmmm…” Lady Findlater was clearly putting some serious thought into this. Her eyes scanned the room in a methodical way until finally, they hit upon one girl. She gave a decisive nod and then grabbed on to Joshua’s arm. “This way if you please.”

She led him to a young lady with nearly black hair. Her cheeks were pale and her eyes a pale, watery blue. She was standing next to an older lady with nearly identical coloring. “Lady Hanslow, I am certain you’ve had the pleasure of meeting the Viscount Wickford?” Lady Findlater asked.

The woman swiveled her strangely pale eyes toward Joshua and then back to the lady before finally resting on Joshua again. “I don’t believe we’ve actually had the pleasure. How do you do, my lord? And please, allow me to present my daughter Felicity.” She pulled the girl forward a touch.

Joshua bowed over young Miss Hanslow’s hand. He was afraid she would either grow more pale or turn bright pink with his attentions, but instead the poised young woman simply lifted her nose higher into the air and then bobbed a little curtsey.

“It is a pleasure, my lord,” the girl said.

“I do hope you are enjoying your evening so far. Lady Emmerton’s soirées are always excellent. Not as intellectual as those of Lady Sorrell, but most certainly an enjoyable evening.” He smiled at the girl.

Her eyes widened. “I must ensure that I do not attend Lady Sorrell’s soirée, in that case. While I have had a most extensive education, I most certainly am not a bluestocking.” Her voice, while pleasant, held strong overtones of horror at the very idea of intellectual young ladies.

“Ah then, yes, you will definitely want to stay away from such soirées. I’m certain your mama is well aware of which parties to bring you to and which to avoid,” he commented with a smile and nod for the lady in question.

“Naturally, my lord. And no, I most certainly would not even consider attending Lady Sorrell’s soirée, either myself or with my daughter.” The lady gave an elegantly disdainful sniff.

“And you, my lord, do you enjoy such soirées?” the girl asked.

“I do, as a matter of fact,” he admitted. “I enjoy a good debate every so often with friends.”

“I believe that it is completely appropriate for a gentleman but not a young lady,” Lady Hanslow decreed.

“Ah, but some of my most fascinating and enjoyable debates were with Lady Sorrell herself. And I believe a few years ago, I learned of a fascinating discussion regarding the use of the chorus in Shakespeare’s plays. That was between Lady Sorrell and Lady Welles if I am not mistaken.”

The girl in front of him looked horrified.

“However, I’m certain that your watercolors are much better than either of theirs,” he said, attempting to redeem himself.

The young lady gave an approving nod. “I would be more than happy to show them to you some time, my lord.”

“I would like that. And do you play the pianoforte, Miss Hanslow?” he asked.

“No. The harp is my instrument of choice. I find the tones so soothing, do you not?” she asked. She looked almost pained as she turned the corners of her lips upward.

“Indeed.” So soothing that it sent him to sleep every time he was forced to listen to it, but he didn’t mention that. “I can envision you playing the harp, Miss Hanslow. Your hands are so delicate and your arms lithe. It must be an ethereal sight.”

The smile she rewarded him with was the first true one he’d seen from her, it even reached her eyes.

“And do you enjoy the park, Miss Hanslow?” he asked, getting to the crux of the matter.

“I do on occasion,” she commented as she unfolded her fan and gave it a little flutter. Joshua took that as a good sign.

“Might I be so bold as to invite you out for a drive one afternoon?” he enquired.

“I believe I have a free afternoon later this week, do I not, Mother?” she asked, turning toward the lady.

“Yes. Friday, if that works well with your schedule, my lord?” the lady asked.

“Perfectly. I look forward to it.” With that he gave the ladies a bow and sauntered off very pleased with himself. She was a little high in the instep for him but eminently suitable. And he was certain that Lady Findlater was already spreading the word of his eligibility with everyone in the room who knew of a young lady making her debut, so he was sure to have other prospects soon.

~*~

“Miss Sherman, how lovely to see you this evening,” Lady Ayres said as Gwendolyn, Bel, and Bee joined a few members of the Whist Society at Lady Emmerton’s soirée.

“How do you do, my lady?” Gwendolyn gave her a curtsey.

“Is the duchess not with you this evening?” Lady Blakemore asked, looking behind Gwendolyn as if the lady in question would suddenly appear.

“No. Sadly, she was not feeling very well,” Gwendolyn told her.

“Oh dear, I am sorry to hear that. I shall have to pay her a call tomorrow just to check in on her,” Lady Ayres said.

“I’m sure that would be greatly appreciated,” Gwendolyn said. “I was thinking the very same thing.”

“Well, perhaps we should arrange to arrive together, so we don’t overtax her,” the lady suggested with a kind smile.

“Excellent idea,” Gwendolyn agreed.

“So who do you have chaperoning you this evening?” Lady Blakemore asked.

“Bel and Bee,” Gwendolyn said, turning toward where her friends had been just a moment ago. She found the space empty, oddly enough.

“I believe Lady Conway just went that way to speak with Lady Colburne, and Lady St. Vincent went off to speak to someone else,” Lady Ayres said with a little laugh.

“Well! So much for chaperones,” Gwendolyn said, a little put out.

“I do see your father, however,” Lady Blakemore pointed out, looking over toward the door to the next room. “He is over there speaking with Lord Welles.”

Gwendolyn looked in the same direction and saw her father speaking with two gentlemen she didn’t know. She assumed the younger was Lord Welles. “Oh, I should probably go and say hello. If you’ll excuse me.” She gave the two women a nod and went to intercept her father before he moved anywhere, and she lost him in the crowded rooms.

“Ah! Here she is!” her father said much too loudly.

“Good evening, Papa,” Gwendolyn said.

“Lord Keppel, may I present my daughter, who I was telling you about, Gwendolyn Sherman?” her father asked. His smile told her that he was eager for her to meet this gentleman. She could only suppose they’d become friends at his club.

She curtsied. “How do you do, my lord?”

“Your father has told me what an accomplished young lady you are, Miss Sherman,” the man said with a kind smile.

“Oh dear,” she gave an embarrassed laugh. “Well, you know fathers. They are inordinately proud of their daughters, I imagine.”

He chuckled. “Yes, we do tend to be that way.”

“Do you have a daughter, my lord?” she asked politely.

“No, I was always disappointed that my wife never graced me with a little girl. I do have four fine, strapping sons, however. My third son, Connor, is about your age. He is twenty and studying at Oxford.”

Gwendolyn nodded, but before she could say anything, her father exclaimed, “You must have been very young to have children, my lord. I was certain you couldn’t have children any older than ten or so.”

“Oh, no! My eldest is twenty-eight. He and Welles, here, went to school together,” the gentleman answered, giving Lord Welles a pat on his shoulder.

“I don’t believe we’ve met, Lord Welles,” Gwendolyn said.

“No, but I have heard a great deal about you not only from your father, but from my wife as well,” the younger man said with a broad smile. His eyes widened for a moment, and he gave a little nod. “In fact, I’m afraid I’m going to have to excuse myself. I believe she is motioning for me.”

Gwendolyn turned and saw Lady Welles with Lady Colburne on the other side of the room, looking over toward them with an expectant smile. She waved when she saw Gwendolyn looking. Gwendolyn gave a little laugh and waved back.

“I think I will go over with you and pay my respects,” Lord Keppel said. He and Lord Welles excused themselves and then moved toward the other side of the room—easier said than done as the crowd had grown enormously.

Gwendolyn could barely believe so many people were crammed together into these rooms. Thank goodness, she didn’t mind tight quarters!

“That is just the sort of man you should marry, my sweet,” Gwendolyn’s father said quietly in her ear.

“Lord Welles? He’s married,” Gwendolyn said with a little laugh.

“No, no, Lord Keppel. He is a widower and a very nice fellow. Definitely the sort I’d like you to marry. Perhaps we should invite him over for dinner some time, so the two of you can get to know each other better.”

Gwendolyn just stared at her father. “He’s your age!”

“No, no. He may have older children, but I’m certain he’s younger than me. Yes, yes, we will definitely have to invite him over.” He started to wander away. Gwendolyn followed, not at all happy with this idea.

She was happy to stand quietly by while her father greeted other gentlemen of his acquaintance. Their conversation ranged from such fascinating topics as the latest horse races to purchasing horses, back around to gambling in general.

“Such a shame about Ryder Street,” one gentleman said, generally to the group.

“Ryder Street?” another asked.

“Yes, you know, the club that was there. Gone out of business,” the first man commented. He shook his head. “Good place for gambling. Not precisely a gambling den, but not as high in the instep as Powell’s or another one of those clubs.”

“Oh, yes, I was there once,” another man said.

“I was thinking of going but never actually made it,” the second man said.

“Which is how, I suppose, it went out of business,” Gwendolyn’s father said with a laugh.

“Yes,” the fellow said, chuckling.

Gwendolyn caught her father’s eye. “I suppose if it’s gone out of business, the building is up for rent,” she commented quietly.

“Well yes, naturally—oh, I see.” Her father’s eyes widened, and he nodded, understanding her. If a former club was up for rent, it might be precisely the sort of place where she might have her club. With some redecorating, it might be exactly right.