Page 7 of King of Clubs (The Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society #9)

R ossburke was enjoying a glass of rum in the drawing room when Joshua returned home from the Bradmore’s dinner. He hadn’t stayed for the ball, he was exhausted enough as it was. The last thing he wanted was to have to entertain someone and be nice. Thank goodness, Jamie didn’t expect anything much from him—at least he’d better not.

Jamie stood and pointed an accusing finger at him the moment he walked in the door. “And just where have you been?”

Joshua stopped. “Who are you, my father?”

“No, I’m your friend who—”

“And what the hell are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you have a home and a wife to attend to?” Joshua had been feeling annoyed just about all evening, thanks to that extremely rude young woman he’d been seated next to. He didn’t want to have to deal with Rossburke as well.

“I came here to check in on you and make sure you were all right, and what did I find? That you were gone for the evening. Gone for the evening, Wickford! You are not allowed to be gone for the evening. You are supposed to be convales—”

“Don’t you dare even say that word,” Joshua interrupted him. He strode over to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. “I hate that word. I cannot stand to be convalescing anymore. Not one minute more! I am sick and tired of being in this house. I am sick and tired of my own company—although, after this evening, I think my own company would have been more pleasant. But I certainly don’t need yours.”

“Where were you?” Jamie asked a touch more gently.

“At Lady Bradmore’s dinner. I had accepted her invitation two weeks ago, and seeing that I’ve recently decided to attempt to find a wife, I thought this would be a good opportunity to meet some eligible young ladies. I left before the ball, however.” Joshua took his drink and dropped into a chair, nearly spilling it. He just didn’t have the energy to even sit properly.

“And did you meet anyone?”

“No. Well, yes, but no one worth my attention. For some ungodly reason, the woman placed me between Lady Penderton and Miss Fulton. It would have been fine except another young lady came along and switched places with Miss Fulton. She took her place, was exceedingly rude, and then cut me—cut me! And proceeded to talk to Teviot the entire evening.”

“What? Do you have any idea why she was so rude? Did you say something?”

“No! I was my usual charming self. I commented that she had done a very kind thing in switching places with Miss Fulton—she and Ainsby had been flirting with each other across the table. Clearly this young woman noticed and switched places so they could continue their flirtation at a more reasonable distance.”

“That was nice. But when you told her so, she gave you the cut?”

“Yes! She was rude, told me she never does anything she doesn’t want to, and then turned away and didn’t look back—the entire evening.” Joshua finished his drink in one gulp and then dropped his pounding head into his hand.

“Was she very beautiful? Is that why you’re so upset about this? Was she someone you wanted to get to know better?” his friend asked with such concern in his voice.

“No. I don’t even know the girl. Hell, I didn’t even have a chance to find out her name! But yes, she was incredibly beautiful—light brown hair, the lightest blue eyes you’ve ever seen, ruby red lips—but all of that is immaterial. She was rude and nasty. All the beauty in the world won’t make up for that.”

“Then why—”

“I’ve got a splitting headache, Jamie, and I’m exhausted. Could we finish this interrogation another time?”

Rossburke stood up immediately. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean… you’re not feeling well. I understand that. You probably should have sent your regrets instead of attending this party. You will have plenty of other opportunities to find a wife, you know.”

“I have the Season, and it’s already well begun. I have April, May, possibly June, and that’s it.” Joshua said, rubbing at his temples in the hopes that his head would not in fact split open.

“And you have to marry this Season?”

“Yes, I do!” Joshua said, jumping to his feet. “Good night. You may see yourself out.” He strode past the shocked expression on his friend’s face, heading for his bedroom. He was too tired to deal with this. Too tired and much, much too annoyed.

Damn that beautiful woman for ruining his evening. Damn her for being so kind and switching places with Miss Fulton. She may have been flirting across the table, but at least she was willing to speak with him and be polite. Instead, he had Lady Penderton who did nothing but extoll the wonders of her daughter all evening. He’d met Miss Penderton, and sadly, she wasn’t nearly as incredible as her mother seemed to think.

No, now he was really being unkind. But he needed sleep. He would be more reasonable in the morning.

~April 14 ~

Gwendolyn was enjoying Walter Scott’s new book, Marmion , when Henry, the footman they had hired for the Season, came into the drawing room.

“I beg your pardon, Miss, but there is a gentleman here to see you.” He came forward and handed her a calling card.

“Mr. Teviot! Oh, goodness,” Gwendolyn exclaimed.

“I hedged a bit as to whether you were at-home, but he says it is quite important that he speak with you,” Henry told her.

Gwendolyn sighed. “Very well. I suppose I should serve tea. Oh, and call my maid to join me here before showing the gentleman up.”

A few minutes later, after Sally had slipped into the room, Mr. Teviot was announced. Gwendolyn rose to greet him. “What a lovely surprise this is, Mr. Teviot,” she said, coming forward after giving him a curtsey.

“I am so happy to hear that, Miss Sherman.” The gentleman came forward, his face simply smothered in his smile.

“Please come in,” she said, indicating that he take a seat on the gold damask chair as she resumed her seat on the matching sofa across from him. But instead of sitting on the chair, he came and sat directly next to her. She wished she’d taken the chair and offered him the sofa.

“I do hope you are doing well, Miss Sherman?” he asked a little more fervently than the question warranted.

“I am, thank you. And yourself?”

“I am doing exceedingly well, thank you.”

A maid came in with the tea tray at that moment, giving Gwendolyn the excuse to busy herself with pouring out.

“You are too kind,” the gentleman said after she’d handed him a cup.

“Are you sure you are feeling quite well, sir?” Gwendolyn asked.

He widened his eyes, and his smile faltered.

“It is just that your face seems to be a little flushed and you… you seem to be a little on edge or excited,” she said with perhaps a touch too much honesty, she realized the moment the words were out of her mouth. Mentally she gave herself a sad shake of her head and wondered when she would ever learn to behave with more decorum.

“It is because I am excited, and yes, yes, a little anxious. You are such an astute woman, Miss Sherman.” Mr. Teviot placed his teacup down on the table without having even taken a sip.

“Is there something wrong?” Gwendolyn asked, looking at his cup.

“No, there is absolutely nothing wrong. How could there be anything wrong with the most wonderful young lady in all of London?” Mr. Teviot asked, not taking his eyes from Gwendolyn.

“I was asking about the tea,” she pointed out, hoping that if she just ignored his comment about her, he would forget he’d ever said such a faradiddle.

“Oh!” He glanced down at his cup. “No, the tea is fine, I just… How can I be interested in tea when you are next to me, Miss Sherman?”

Gwendolyn had no idea how to respond to this. She tried giving a little laugh. “Oh, sir, what silliness!”

“No! Not silliness,” he said, grabbing onto her one free hand since her teacup was in the other.

She quickly put the cup down for fear of spilling. She put her free hand on top of his in order to extract her hand gently, but he mistook her intention and quickly covered that hand with his other one. She was well and duly trapped now.

“Oh, Miss Sherman… Gwendolyn, if I may?” he asked fervently.

“Mr. Teviot?”

“Pine.”

“I beg your pardon?” she ask confused.

“My given name is Pine. Remember I told you that last week when we spoke at the duchess’s at-home,” he explained.

“Of course.” But why was he insisting she call him by his given name, and why was he calling her by hers?

“Gwendolyn, I can’t tell you how much I admire you. No, that’s not true. I can tell you. I admire you greatly.”

“Er, thank you?” What does one say to such a declaration.

“Be mine,” he said, slipping off the sofa to the floor where he went on his knees before her.

“What?”

“Be mine. Say you’ll marry me!”

She jumped to her feet, effectively pulling her hands from his grip. “Mr. Teviot! We hardly know each other.”

“I know enough. I know you are sweet and kind and beautiful. I know…” he paused.

“You know that I have a large dowry,” she guessed.

He had the grace to blush at that. “Well, everyone knows that.”

“And I suppose you are in need of funds.”

He gave an embarrassed laugh. “Who isn’t?” He stood, grabbing her hands again. “Come now, Gwendolyn—”

“Miss Sherman,” she corrected.

He cleared his throat and gave a slight nod. “Miss Sherman, you are beautiful, and wealthy, and sweet. You are everything I’ve ever wanted in a wife.”

“Then I suggest you find another beautiful, wealthy young lady to marry because it won’t be me. I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Teviot.”

“But… but surely, you feel something for me? Could you not see yourself married—”

“No, again I am sorry, sir, but I cannot see myself married to you,” Gwendolyn said firmly, removing her hands from his.

“Is it because I don’t have a title? That’s it, isn’t it? You are holding out for a title. I understand—”

“Sir, thank you for your time. Sally will see you to the door.” Gwendolyn took a step away from him before she was tempted to slap the man.

Thankfully he accepted defeat gracefully.

~*~

“I beg your pardon, my lord, but there is a gentleman who would like to become a member. Shall I show him back?” asked Michael, one of the footmen, after a quick knock on Joshua’s office door.

“Yes, of course.” Even after nearly two weeks since the accident, Joshua still wasn’t feel at one hundred percent, but he was certainly feeling a great deal better. His headaches were nearly a bad memory now, and his ability to concentrate had returned.

“The Marquess Keppel, my lord, and Viscount Welles,” the footman intoned properly a few minutes later.

Joshua stood up and came around to the other side of his desk to greet his friend and the older gentleman with him. “Welles, good to see you. And Lord Keppel, I am pleased to meet you. Please have a seat.” He shook the men’s hands and then indicated the sofa in the seating area just next to the fireplace. He took the seat opposite. Lord Keppel looked to be in his mid-forties. His dark hair had some silver in it, giving him a very distinguished look, but his eyes were starred with more creases than one might expect.

The two men sat down next to each other.

“How is Lady Welles,” Joshua asked, turning first to his friend.

“She’s well. She said she missed you at Lady Bradmore’s ball on Monday,” Lord Welles said.

“Yes. I attended the dinner beforehand but didn’t feel up to the ball, I’m afraid.”

“Ah, yes, but your head is better?” He turned to Lord Keppel and explained, “Lord Wickford was in a terrible accident just, what was it, two weeks ago?”

“Nearly so,” Joshua agreed.

“I am sorry to hear that,” the older man said, lowering his thick eyebrows. “But you’re all right now?”

“Yes. I had a concussion, but the doctor—Lord Colburne—has cleared me to return to my normal life, thank goodness! Convalescing is not for me,” he said with a little laugh.

“I’ve recently met Lord Colburne,” Lord Keppel said. “He seems like an extremely competent man. I’m sorry I didn’t have someone like that nearby when my wife was ill.”

“He’s an excellent doctor, but sadly, I don’t think he’s a miracle worker,” Welles said, patting the older man’s hand.

“No. No, I suppose not.” The gentleman sighed heavily.

“We lost Lady Keppel a little over a year ago,” Welles explained.

“I am so sorry,” Joshua nodded.

“Yes, well… Thetford, er, my son, and my daughter-in-law insisted that it was time for me to rejoin society,” Lord Keppel said, attempting a little smile. “They shipped me off to London and told John to keep an eye on me.”

“I don’t think you could be in better hands,” Joshua said.

“No. I don’t think so either,” the man said, giving Welles a fatherly smile.

“Lord Keppel’s daughter-in-law is my sister, and his son, Thetford, was my closest friend in school. I consider Lord Keppel to be like an uncle. I’ve known him a good part of my life,” Welles explained.

“And now dear John has suggested I join your club, thinks it’ll do me good,” Lord Keppel told him. “I’m already a member of Brooke’s, of course, but John says that it, and White’s, are for old fogeys now.” He gave a little chuckle.

Joshua smiled. “Well, I don’t know about that. I’m certain there are a great many younger gentlemen who are very happy with both of those clubs. We offer something slightly different here—the finest rum you will taste outside of the West Indies, a quiet reading room, a gaming room for those times when you feel the need to lose some money, and one of the best chefs in all of London.”

The man burst into laughter. “Excellent! Excellent! That is just what I need.”