Page 26 of King of Clubs (The Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society #9)

J oshua could only shake his head and chuckle at her honesty.

“Can I be completely honest with you?” she asked, leaning forward a touch.

“And here I thought you were being excessively so!”

She giggled and shook her head. “Last night at Lady Rexford’s ball, I snuck out after speaking with your mother to go and check on things at the club.”

“Really?” So that’s where she’d gone! And he’d thought she’d had an assignation. Immediately, he felt even better about coming to visit her today.

A footman came in with the tea tray. She busied herself with preparing tea. Her movements were gentle and flowing as she elegantly poured the tea, adding in just a touch of sugar.

“Milk for me, please,” he said when she held out the cup toward him.

“Taste it without. This is the special blend I created for my club. It’s floral and really should be taken without milk.”

He raised an eyebrow as he accepted the cup. “You have a special blend for your club?”

“Yes, just like you have your rum, I have a special tea,” she explained.

He gave a huff. “I don’t have my rum any more if you remember.”

She frowned. “Oh, yes. I am so sorry. That was very thoughtless of me.”

He waved off her apology and tasted the tea. “Goodness, that is excellent! Very delicious. Where did you find this?”

“I created it.” Her smile could not have been any broader. She was clearly quite proud of herself, and well she should be.

“It is superb,” he told her.

“Thank you.” She took a sip from her own cup. “I have to decide whether I’m going to keep the club open in the evenings. It seems that most ladies attend parties in the evening. It is only a few older ladies who come to the club and usually to play cards.”

“Well, there is profit to be had in that,” he pointed out.

“Yes, but I’m not sure if it’s enough.”

He nodded, understanding. His real reason for coming to visit prodded him. “Miss Sherman, as much as I would enjoy speaking about business with you, I did come for another purpose,” he said, putting down his teacup.

She looked at him expectantly.

“I, er, I was wondering…” Damn, why hadn’t he prepared a speech or a few words in advance? He had no idea what to say to this girl. “Er, I noticed your father glaring at me last night while we were dancing.” Nope, that wasn’t really what he’d wanted to say. He cringed internally.

“Oh. Well, um, I don’t know why. I, er, I actually think he was glaring at me. He might have realized that I’d snuck out and then back into the party,” she admitted.

“Oh!” Joshua gave her a smile. “Of course. That makes sense.”

She nodded.

“Do you think he would, er, would mind if I were to court you?” There, that was what he’d wanted to ask.

Her beautiful blue eyes widened. “Court me?” The words came out as little more than a whisper.

“Yes. I find myself quite enamored with you, Miss Sherman. You are intelligent, and beautiful, and…”

“And rich. Please, my lord, please don’t tell me you too are attracted to my dowry. I had thought you above such pettiness.” A frown marred her lovely features.

“No! I assure you, I have absolutely no interest in your dowry. It is you who I am attracted to, not your money,” he said quickly.

She stared at him in silence for a moment, clearly deciding whether to believe him or not. Finally, she stood. He immediately followed suit.

“Thank you, my lord, for your honesty, but truly, I think Miss Hanslow would be a much better person for you to court.”

How did he tell this young woman that after spending an entire evening attempting to court Miss Hanslow, he’d realized she was not the sort of person he could ever imagine marrying? Miss Sherman was looking at him expectantly. Her words had clearly been a dismissal, but he wasn’t ready to give up on her. Not yet.

On the other hand, perhaps retreat would be the best strategy just now until he could figure out how to win this battle. But how… an idea struck him. He knew precisely who he needed to consult for aid in developing his tactics—the greatest strategic minds of the ton : The Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society.

~*~

The moment Gwendolyn heard the front door close behind Lord Wickford she moved. She hadn’t taken a step after he’d left her drawing room. Hadn’t taken a breath. But now he was gone, and she felt it deep within her.

She ran to her room and, like a child, threw herself onto her bed.

Why did she do that? How could she have sent him away?

He wanted to court her! He wanted to be with her. He thought her intelligent and beautiful, and she… she had tossed him out like a piece of garbage. A sob tore through her, but she stifled it. Why had she done that?

But she knew why. She had done what she’d had to do. Now, she only needed to continue, to carry out the promise she’d made her father.

It hurt. It literally, physically hurt to think of smiling and flirting with another man, but she had to. She’d been remiss so far this Season. She’d met plenty of gentlemen. She danced with dozens. None of them had seen her—not the way Lord Wickford had. None of them had cared for her. None of them had seen anything beyond her father’s money. None of them had been Lord Wickford.

But she knew that, in her father’s eyes, Lord Wickford wasn’t good enough. He hadn’t taken his seat in Parliament. His estate was very small. Yes, he had a plantation in the West Indies, but that was not something a “proper” nobleman had. And a “real” nobleman did not own and run a club—so her father had told her the night before as they’d driven home from the ball.

Yes, her father had seen her dance with Lord Wickford. His narrowed eyes were not because he’d seen her slip back into the ball after checking on her club. It was because he’d thought she’d slipped back into the ball after being outside with the gentleman, and he wasn’t happy. His Lordship, while titled, was not the sort of gentleman her father had brought her to London to meet and marry.

And so Gwendolyn had done what she’d known she had to do when the gentleman had come calling. She’d sent him away. And now she could only hope that he stayed away. It would be too painful otherwise.

~May 25~

For the second time in so many days, Joshua was questioning the wisdom of knocking on a door. Today, however, he was certain he would be welcomed in. Just as he raised his hand to knock, the door opened.

Mr. Fitzwalter nearly walked directly into him as he stood on the front step, his hand still in the air.

“Oh! Wickford, I do beg your pardon,” Fitzwalter said, stopping himself just in time.

“Good afternoon, Fitzwalter. You weren’t… er, visiting the ladies of the Wagering Whist Society, were you?”

The man’s cheeks turned rosy. “Yes, actually.” He narrowed his eyes and smiled. “And you?”

Joshua just smiled and laughed. “I am. Well, good luck with, er, the reason for your visit.”

“And you!”

Fitzwalter slipped past him, and Joshua entered the house.

A few minutes later, he was bowing before the assembled ladies of the Wagering Whist Society.

“Lord Wickford, what a lovely surprise this is!” Lady Ayres said. The other women, all sitting around the room or resuming their seats after curtseying to him, agreed.

“What has brought you to our meeting today, my lord?” Lady Gorling asked.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me, ladies. It is your reputation for brilliant assistance in the matters of the heart that has me here. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind extending your sphere of support to one more,” he said, looking hopefully around the room.

“You? Are you in need of such assistance? I would have thought that you’d have women eating out of your hand if you wanted them to,” Lady Blakemore said with a laugh.

He chuckled. “I don’t know that I would want that, my lady.”

“Is it Miss Hanslow, then? I saw you paying her a great deal of attention the other night at Lady Rexford’s ball,” Lady Welles commented.

Joshua sighed but managed to maintain the polite smile on his face. “No, it is not Miss Hanslow. I thought she was the right girl for me—her heritage is exemplary—but I find that I’ve another, much less suitable girl who I simply cannot get out of my mind.”

“Before we go any further, my lord, you must sit down,” Lady Ayres said, indicating that he pull a chair from the card tables set up nearby. “And secondly, we do need to discuss the price for our services.”

Joshua had started toward the card table to fetch a chair for himself, but her second statement made him stop and turn back toward the ladies. “I beg your pardon? Price?”

“Yes, of course. We do not do anything for free. The ladies and gentlemen we have assisted, we have done so in exchange for a price,” Lady Blakemore agreed.

“Is it funds—” Joshua started. Wondering just how much money these ladies might want. Not one of them was in any financial difficulties as far as he knew.

“It is not money, my lord. You should know us well enough to know that,” Lady Colburne said, interrupting.

“Then?” Joshua asked, resuming his task of retrieving a chair for himself.

“Secrets.”

Joshua had his back to the ladies when the word was said very quietly, so he wasn’t certain exactly who said it. When he came back with the chair, all the women were nodding and looking at him expectantly. “I’m sorry. I thought I heard…”

“Yes, you did,” Lady Moreton said quickly.

“Secrets,” Lady Welles said.

“We have all shared them,” the Duchess of Bolton said, nodding so vigorously her jowls were shaking.

“And may be absolutely certain that whatever secret you care to share with us today will be kept. There is not one of us who has said a word to anyone else about the secrets we have shared in this room. They may have informed our actions but have not been repeated.” Lady Ayres said.

“ Never repeated to anyone outside of the group,” Lady Gorling agreed.

“Frequently, it is the secret which will inform the assistance you receive,” Lady Sorrell added.

“Oh, yes, absolutely,” Lady Welles agreed. “The information is not for our base curiosity but will be used to assist you.”

Many of the ladies nodded their agreement and then looked at him expectantly.

“Do we have an agreement, then, my lord? Or is the price too high to pay?” Lady Blakemore asked.

Joshua felt the weight of eight pairs of eyes all staring at him, waiting for an answer. A secret. He knew the ladies played cards for secrets, but he’d never realized that they shared them in order to help the young lovers they had assisted. It rather made sense, actually. But what secret could he share? He knew, of course, exactly which one it would have to be—his deepest, darkest, most embarrassing secret.

He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, crossing his legs and then uncrossing them. “Er, no. No, that sounds perfectly reasonable.”

“Excellent. Whenever you are ready, then,” Lady Ayres said with an encouraging smile.

He did his best to lift the corners of his mouth but quickly gave up. Instead, he took in a deep breath. “I am not sure if you all know the story of how my parents met,” he started.

“Oh, yes, we have all heard the fantastic tale of how your father traveled to Africa and fell in love with a king’s daughter,” Lady Welles said quickly.

He gave her a smile. “Yes. That’s correct. They were married there in my mother’s village, then traveled together to the West Indies where my father purchased a sugar plantation. There they lived happily until my father received word that he’d inherited the viscountcy.”

“And then what happened?” Lady Sorrell asked.

Joshua looked at her and realized it would be much easier to tell the next part to just one person. He focused on her. “And then my father realized that he and my mother had not been married in the church and I was… in fact… I was illegitimate in the eyes of the Western world.”

“Oh!” Her Grace exclaimed.

“But your parents were married!” Lady Blakemore objected.

“Yes, but not in a church. They were married by the shaman in my mother’s village,” Joshua explained.

“And that does not—” Lady Ayres started.

“But surely their marriage would be recognized,” Lady Colburne said, interrupting her.

“No. For purposes of inheritance, it would not,” Joshua confirmed.

“What did your father do?” Lady Gorling asked.

Joshua looked down at his hands clasped in his lap. “He arranged with the vicar to marry and then backdate the wedding to just before I was born. The vicar then wrote a letter affirming that my parents were, indeed, married before my birth, and that I had been baptized in the church—which is true, actually. I was baptized. My father insisted.”

There were a few gasps.

“If anyone were to find out, my lord…” Lady Sorrell began.

He looked up at that. “I am well aware, my lady. It is why it’s a secret.”