Page 13 of King of Clubs (The Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society #9)

“W ell, she is very pretty,” Lady Rossburke commented after they’d rode away from Lord Wickford’s carriage.

“I suppose so,” Gwendolyn said. She wasn’t certain why her stomach was roiling as it was. It wasn’t as if she even wanted to be riding with the gentleman rather than her newfound friends. She was so much happier amongst the company of these ladies. They were all very kind, very caring. So what if Lord Wickford, with his excessive charm and good looks, had awarded Miss Hanslow the very rare and special honor of being driven by him? Gwendolyn didn’t care. “Is it true that he doesn’t normally drive young ladies in the park, or did you just say that to be kind?”

“Oh no, it’s absolutely true!” Lady Welles said, coming up along Gwendolyn’s other side.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him driving in the park,” Lady Colburne commented, turning around in her seat.

“Really?” Gwendolyn was surprised at the spike of jealousy that struck her like a slap to the face. She wasn’t interested in this man. What were her silly, wayward emotions doing?

“I heard he’s on the lookout for a wife this Season,” Bel said from where she was riding, next to Lady Colburne and just in front of Gwendolyn.

“Yes. That accident of his seems to have knocked some sense into the man,” Lady Rossburke said with a laugh.

“What do you mean?” Gwendolyn asked.

“Well, before this, he’s only been interested in running his club,” Lady Welles answered.

“With single-minded devotion,” Lady Colburne agreed.

“He would go to parties to meet gentlemen who were members of his club or bring new members in,” Lady Welles said.

“Well, I have a feeling he went so that he could speak intelligently on all the goings on in society,” Lady Rossburke argued gently.

“Yes, I’m sure of that too,” Lady Welles agreed.

“So he was only social to further his business,” Gwendolyn parsed.

“Yes,” they all said nearly in unison.

“That makes sense,” Gwendolyn continued.

“Not for an eligible, young nobleman,” Lady Rossburke pointed out.

“He didn’t seem to have interest in marrying, but now, happily, he does,” Lady Colburne said.

“Because of his accident?” Bel clarified.

“Yes. He was suddenly faced with his mortality,” Lady Colburne said. She gave Gwendolyn a sad little smile. “It’s a difficult thing, but I’m glad for it because I want him to be happy. It would have been terrible if he’d ended up alone with his business as his only legacy.”

“Oh, I’m certain he wouldn’t have allowed that to happen,” Lady Rossburke said. “He is very definite that he, like most men, wants an heir.”

“His father inherited his title later in life, didn’t he?” Bel asked.

“Yes, when Wickford was eight years old or so. They moved here—“ Lady Rossburke started.

“From where?” Gwendolyn asked, interrupting.

“The West Indies, can’t you tell from his coloring?” Lady Welles asked.

“I didn’t know…” Gwendolyn started.

“We don’t know anything about his parentage or ancestry,” Lady Colburne said repressively, giving Lady Welles a sharp look. “But we do know that his father—and now he—owns a sugar plantation in the West Indies. It’s where he gets the rum his club is so famous for.”

“His club is well known for that?” Gwendolyn asked, an idea sparking in her mind. “Are all clubs well known for one thing like that?” She hated to turn the conversation; she sincerely wanted to know more about Lord Wickford, but right now she was much more interested in learning about clubs.

“Oh, yes! Well, I believe each of the gentlemen’s clubs are known either for their membership or for some special drink like with Powell’s and rum,” Lady Welles answered.

“How interesting,” Gwendolyn nodded. She needed something special her club should be known for, aside from just being a lady’s club. That in itself was a distinction certainly, but it would be lovely to be known for something else. Something like rum only for ladies… her mind wandered to what she could offer that would be different and interesting.

She nearly snapped her fingers when the obvious answer came to her. “Tea!”

“I’m sorry?” Lady Rossburke asked, turning toward her.

Gwendolyn’s hand flew to her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. But now that she thought about it, maybe she could turn this to her favor. “I said tea.” She gave a little laugh. “I just suddenly remembered that I needed to buy some. Is there a shop you favor, my lady?”

“Fortnum and Mason’s, of course,” Lady Welles jumped in. “It’s the finest tea in London.”

“Oh, of course.” Gwendolyn gave her a smile. “I will have to go there and see what I can find.” And see what I can create, she thought to herself, because she certainly couldn’t offer just any sort of ordinary tea. It needed to be something different. Something special. Like the rum at Powell’s that came from his own estate. She needed a special tea that wasn’t available anywhere else.

~April 23~

Joshua rechecked the math in his accounts ledger. No, it was undeniable; his profits were down. The only thing he could think of was that members had come less often to the club when he’d been ill. He couldn’t imagine why that would be so.

“Is there something wrong, my lord?” Mr. Wainwright asked. He was looking through a stack of receipts that had just come in and was sitting in the chair opposite Joshua.

“Do you have any idea why our profits were down this past month?”

The man frowned. “The only thing I can think would cause that would be your illness.”

“Yes, I was thinking the same thing, but why would fewer people come to the club when I was ill?”

“If you’ll look a little more closely, my lord, I don’t think that fewer members came, I believe fewer were gambling,” Wainwright pointed out.

Joshua checked the numbers again. “My God, you’re right! How fascinating!”

“I believe you are simply better at encouraging gentlemen into the gambling room than I,” the man said with a sad shake of his head.

Joshua chuckled. He was good at that; he couldn’t deny it.

“I beg your pardon, my lord, but there is a woman to see you,” one of the footmen said, coming into the room.

“A woman?” Joshua asked, hoping for more information.

“Yes, sir. Er, I think you need to come and see for yourself.” The footman looked distinctly uncomfortable. “She is asking for you by name.”

Joshua frowned but followed the man toward the club’s foyer. There was no one inside that he could see. Perhaps she left… The footman indicated the door which was sitting ajar.

Joshua opened the door and found a woman he almost didn’t recognize for a moment. “Mother!” The word exploded from his mouth.

“Joshua,” she sighed in relief before collapsing against his chest.

“My God, Mother, what happened to you? Why are you here? How did you get here?” The questions flew from him.

“Please, I will explain everything,” she said weakly.

“Yes, come in, come in!” He gently guided her into the building and then looked daggers at the footman. “Why they hell did you leave my mother standing outside the door?” he snapped.

“I am so sorry, my lord. I didn’t know who she was and… and…” He indicated with his hand Joshua’s mother still clinging to his arm.

Joshua turned and took a good look at her. Her hair was sticking out at odd angles, her dress was torn and… Never in his life had he seen his mother other than impeccably turned out. Something very serious had to have happened.

“Please, Joshua, I need something to eat. I need to sit down,” she said weakly.

“Of course, of course. Come.” He started to assist her toward the back stairs that led to his apartments. “Bring up a hot meal,” he said over his shoulder to the footman.

“Yes, my lord.”

He helped his mother up the stairs and into his drawing room. “Food will be here momentarily.”

She nodded and sat on the sofa with a sigh of relief, closing her eyes as she did so.

He could only sit next to her, holding her hand. There were bruises along her arms, but other than that she seemed to be merely exhausted and disheveled. He had the most difficulty not pressing her for answers but knew she first needed sustenance.

There was a knock on the door almost immediately, and the footman came in bearing a large tray filled with plates, glasses, and a bottle of wine. He placed it down on the table in front of them, and Joshua felt a bit ashamed for not having brought her into the dining room. It wasn’t a room he used often, since he lived alone, but with her here… well, he didn’t think she’d mind this once.

He removed the cover from the plate in the middle of the tray and handed it to her along with a fork and knife. She fell onto it as if she hadn’t eaten for days.

He sat and watched her eat her fill, sipping at a glass of wine. When she was finished, she sat back and handed him the empty plate. He poured some more wine for both of them, and then he looked at her and waited.

With another sigh, she said, “I wanted to surprise you. I thought I’d come and visit.” She gave him a little hesitant smile. “But the ship…” She blinked back some tears. “There was a storm… off the coast of Ireland. The ship sank, Joshua. It was horrible. It was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“My goodness! How did you survive?” Joshua took her hand in his, not wanting to let go.

“By God’s mercy. There was a fisherman’s ship. I don’t know why it was out in that storm, but it wasn’t far. As soon as they saw our ship sink, they came and rescued as many of us as they could. We lost a good number of men, though. Oh, it was awful!” Tears began to slide down her cheeks, flowing over her high cheekbones, leaving their tracks in the smudges of dirt that darkened her naturally brown skin.

“The kind people of the fishing village helped us. I told them I was bound for London, and they were good enough to lend me the money to pay for my transportation.” She shook her head, slightly confused. “There were mail coaches, a ship across the channel, and then more coaches. I was forced to ride on top because I didn’t have enough to pay for an inside seat. And truly, looking the way I do, who would ever have believed that I should sit inside?” She looked down at her ragged, torn gown.

“You are still wearing the same clothes you were in when the ship sank? Did no one give you even a dry gown to wear?” he asked.

“They tried but I refused. I would not take charity from such poor, desperate people,” she said with a lift of her chin. He’d always known his mother was a proud woman, but he’d never thought she was stupid. Now he was beginning to wonder.

“Really, Mother! If they offered…”

“They were terribly poor, Joshua. I could not take anything more from them. It was more than enough that they scraped together the funds I needed to get here.”

He sighed but nodded. “I will see that money is sent to repay them for their kindness.”

“Yes, you must.”

“But for now, you must be exhausted. I will ring for a bath, and then you will rest.”

She nodded obediently. She must truly be traumatized to do so, he thought with a shake of his head. The woman he remembered would never have submitted so easily.

It had been over a year since he’d seen his mother. He’d travelled home to his plantation in the West Indies a few times after graduating from University, mostly to see to the rum production. He’d only stayed three months the last time he’d been there before returning to England. He always asked her to return with him, but she’d always refused—just as she’d refused to come with his father when he’d moved here after inheriting his title. He almost wondered what had made her change her mind and come now. He wouldn’t pester her for that answer just now, but they would talk later.

He put her into his room and, while she bathed, wrote a note to the Duchess of Warwick, begging her to come the following day and arrange for some half-made gowns for his mother. When he went in to check on her, she was tucked up in his bed, wearing his night shirt. It was enormous on her slender frame, making her look almost childlike.

He sat at the edge of the bed and kissed her forehead. “I am so grateful that you’re here and safe.”

“As am I.” She ran a hand down his cheek. “My sweet boy. I have missed you so.”

“And I, you. Tomorrow you will tell me what inspired you to take this journey, and then a friend of mine will come with some clothes for you.”

“A friend? A female friend?” Her eyebrows rose, and her eyes widened.

“The Duchess of Warwick. I am friends with her husband, the duke,” he explained before she got any ideas in her head.

“A duchess? I am to be dressed by a duchess?” She gave a little laugh.

“Yes, Mother, as is fitting for a princess.” He smiled and kissed her again, so happy to have her there with him.

She nodded.

“I shall be downstairs in the drawing room, should you need anything,” he told her.

“What? Do you not have engagements or, or your club to look after this evening?” she asked.

“I do, but I don’t want to leave you alone…”

“Oh, Joshua. I am going to sleep. I am going to sleep like I’ve never slept before, now that I am warm, clean, and full. You go out, enjoy yourself, and don’t give me another thought.”

He frowned, wondering if he should. He did have a party at Lady Ayres’s home this evening. He would probably even see the duchess there and could explain why he needed her so urgently.

“Go,” his mother urged.

He gave a brief nod. “All right, but I won’t stay out late.”