Amelia Grey - [Rogues' Dynasty 06] (13 page)

Matson was about to say good night to Lord Waldo, when suddenly a black velvet bag landed with a thud on the center of the small table that stood between Lord Waldo and Matson. He glanced up and saw Lord Hargraves smiling down at him. He had a feeling he knew what the purse meant, but Matson wasn’t interested in playing the viscount. He pushed the bag toward Lord Waldo.

Matson rose and said, “This must be yours. Lord Hargraves doesn’t owe me anything.”

“It’s not mine,” Lord Waldo said and stood up too, never touching the bag. “I never wager. I’m not good at billiards or card games.”

“It’s yours, Mr. Brentwood, if you can beat me. I hear you are a natural with a cue in your hand.”

“I’ve been known to hold a stick from time to time, but it’s late. I was just saying my good-byes.”

Lord Hargraves remained affable and said, “You don’t understand. This is a challenge. Gentlemen, come gather round.” He motioned with his hand for the other men in the room to come nearer. Several of them walked closer to see what was going on. “I’m challenging Mr. Brentwood to a game. He’ll get that bag of coins if he wins, and if I win, I will get his partner for Lord Tradesforke’s May Day Fair Day event.”

Matson’s eyes narrowed, and his skin prickled in defense. What kind of exploit was this man trying to pull over him? “I don’t accept your challenge,” Matson said. “I don’t need your winnings.”

Matson turned to walk away.

“Mr. Brentwood.”

Matson started not to look back to see what the man wanted, but did. The viscount’s gloves struck him across the face so quickly he didn’t have time to react. The offense was so unexpected Matson blinked. Gasps sounded from the onlookers, and suddenly the room went deadly quietly. Anger like he’d never felt before rose up in him. His right hand balled into a tight fist. His eyes and mouth tightened.

“Now you have to accept,” Lord Hargraves said with a smile. “Or you can choose to be considered a coward by all these gentlemen.”

Matson didn’t mind playing the guy, but he sure as hell didn’t like being forced to do it by the popinjay’s challenge. Matson was a good player, and he was fairly certain he could beat the viscount. He just didn’t like what was at stake if he didn’t.

Matson studied the man. His eyes were bloodshot, and there was sweat on his forehead. He looked tired. He’d already played three games that Matson knew about, and maybe more. But Matson had had a few drinks too.

“Must we stand here the rest of the night to hear your answer?” Lord Hargraves asked in a loud voice.

Matson wanted to answer by smashing his face in, but decided the gentlemanly thing to do was just beat him at the game. There was no way in hell he was going to let this man walk away with Miss Hart as his May Day Fair Day partner.

Matson picked up the bag of coins, threw them to Lord Waldo, and said, “Hold this for me.” He turned to Lord Hargraves and said, “Rack your balls, and let’s see what they’re made of—my thoughts are they are made of chalk.”

“Cotton!” a man yelled.

“Brass!” another man yelled.

Hargraves laughed, and so the game began. Word of the challenge stormed through White’s, and soon the room was overflowing with raucous men placing their bets and drinking ale. Twice Matson had asked men to step back and give him room to bend and make his shots. His concentration was on the green baize.

In the end, Lord Hargraves’s playing wasn’t even a difficult match for Matson. The game was over quickly when Matson shot the last ball into the side pocket. A roar of victory went up from some in the crowd, while groans of misery were heard from others as they paid their bets.

Matson laid his cue stick on the rail of the table and walked over to get the bag of coins from Lord Waldo. He then walked over to a sullen and red-faced Lord Hargraves and said, “If you ever challenge me again, it had better be with a sword or a pistol, and you should be prepared to die.”

Matson turned and waded through the crowd, receiving cheers and claps on the back as he left the club.

The heavy bag of coins in his pocket suddenly felt very light.

If it were not for the company of fools, a witty man would often be greatly at a loss.

—François de La Rochefoucauld

Sophia walked into the breakfast room where her aunts and Sir Randolph were having their meal. “Good morning, everyone,” she said, feeling chipper. Sir Randolph was just the person she wanted to see. “I trust all of you slept well.”

While she helped herself to scrambled eggs and small chunks of boiled ham, she heard mumbles of agreement that their night had been pleasant. Sir Randolph sat at the head of the table, looking at his newsprint. Mae sat to his right and June to his left. Sophia took the chair opposite Sir Randolph at the end of the table.

“I know you’ve been very busy, Sir Randolph, but have you had the time to talk with anyone at Bow Street about what we discussed last week?”

“What’s this about Bow Street?” June asked.

He lowered the newsprint. “Nothing that concerns you, Miss Shevington,” Sir Randolph answered.

“I beg your pardon, sir. If it concerns Sophia, it concerns me.”

“I only wanted someone to help the authorities look for the boy who stole my mother’s brooch, since you will not allow me to go search for him.”

“Certainly not. How will you ever get Lord Snellingly or Lord Bighampton to ask for your hand if they hear you have been off chasing thieves?”

Sophia’s sunny disposition evaporated. Sir Randolph and her aunts didn’t understand how important the return of the brooch was.

“All right, Sophia, you’ve sufficiently reprimanded me,” Sir Randolph said.

“But I didn’t mean to sound like I was doing that.”

“I know. That was my poor attempt at humor. Why don’t I take you to the area of Timsford’s Square later today and let you have a look around? We’ll stop by and get the constable to send someone with us. If you spot the lad, he can give chase.”

“That won’t work,” June said quickly. “Lord Hargraves is coming at two.”

“We’ll be back by then, Miss Shevington.”

Sophia felt lighter. “Thank you, Sir Randolph. I would very much appreciate your doing that for me.”

“It’s settled then. We’ll go at noon.”

Sophia hated pushing her luck. Getting to go back to the square was what she’d hoped for, but she had to ask, “What did you do about the letter concerning the lease and Mr. Peabody?”

“What letter?” June asked.

“Miss Shevington, this does not concern you as her chaperone or her aunt. I never got around to sending Mr. Peabody a letter or drafting one about the lease. We’ll visit Timsford’s Square today, and then send the letters tomorrow. How does that sound?”

“Like a plan.” Sophia smiled at Sir Randolph, but she couldn’t help but wonder how he could be so uninterested in her mother’s brooch or how her inheritance was managed. How could such a wonderful man, who loved her, care so little about the things that were important to her?

Sophia turned to June. “It looks like there might be sunshine this afternoon, Aunt June,” Sophia said. “I think it will be the kind of day that makes one want to take a walk in the park.”

The only response Sophia received was a quiet, “Mmm.”

“I think that’s a splendid idea,” Mae said. “You know we love to take walks, but we’ve been so busy getting you ready for the Season, we’ve gotten out of the habit. It’s time to start back.”

“Thank you, Aunt Mae.”

Sophia remembered that Mr. Brentwood said he exercised his horse every afternoon at the same time. She had missed seeing him at the parties the past couple of nights and was hoping to see him again in the park. She knew it was foolish to spend so much time thinking about him, but she couldn’t stop the way he made her feel when he was near. And she couldn’t seem to stop longing to see him again.

“That’s a large stack of note cards before you.”

“Indeed it is,” June said, finally looking up at Sophia. “Each day, more and more invitations come in for balls, parties, card games, and some ladies simply want you to come for tea. And I’m happy to report that you have received your first voucher for Almack’s as well.”

Sophia spread plum preserves on a piece of toasted bread. “See, you had no reason to worry about me being shunned. Sir Randolph saved the day once again.”

Ignoring Sophia’s compliment giving Sir Randolph his due credit, June said, “We’re all simply delighted, Sophia, but I don’t know how we can keep up. With all these invitations, we simply can’t keep trying to attend every ball, every dinner party, and every event.”

Sophia was missing Mr. Brentwood as it was. If they stopped going to all the parties, she might not ever see him again.

“Oh, but I really shouldn’t miss any. I have an idea, Aunt June. Why don’t you and Aunt Mae take turns going with me? I truly don’t need both of you every night. That way you would be going out only every other night.”

“Oh, I don’t know if we can do that, Sophia. What do you think, Sir Randolph?”

“That is your call, Miss Shevington, and you shouldn’t have to ask my opinion. I might have mentioned before that you are her chaperone.”

“Well, I’ve never been—”

Sir Randolph interrupted her. “Furthermore, I will say that most young ladies have only one chaperone and manage quite well to make good matches.”

“I think it’s a splendid idea,” Mae said. “Sophia needs to be out every evening, and most afternoons too, but we don’t. I will be happy to go out only every other evening, if that suits you.”

“Problem solved,” Sir Randolph said.

“It’s settled then,” June said tightly. “That’s what we’ll do. Oh, here’s a card with your name on it, Sophia. There’s nothing on the outside to indicate whom it’s from.”

“Thank you,” Sophia said, laying down her fork. Her gaze immediately went to the bottom of the short note to see whom it was from. Expectancy flooded her chest when she read Mr. Brentwood’s name at the bottom. She quickly scanned the paper.

He
wanted
to
see
her!

“Don’t keep us in suspense,” June said. “Whom is it from and what does it say?”

Sophia tried to keep the excitement out of her voice as she read aloud:

Miss Hart,

Would you do me the honor of meeting me at the eastern bank of the Serpentine at half past three this afternoon, so we might practice rowing for Lord Tradesforke’s May Day Fair Day event?

Sincerely,

Mr. Matson Brentwood.

June laid down the note in her hand and huffed. “That man is unbelievable. Imagine him asking you to meet him for such a ridiculous reason, when you hardly have time to meet all your social engagements as it is.”

Fearful her aunt was going to deny his request, Sophia looked up from the note. “I don’t think it’s ridiculous.”

“I don’t either,” Mae agreed. “I think it’s a very good thing for them to do if they want to win the race, don’t you, Sir Randolph?”

Sir Randolph lowered his news sheets and seemed to ponder the question. “I see nothing wrong with it, but I have no idea if it will help them win anything.”

“Everything is wrong with it,” June announced. “First and foremost, he’s not titled and can’t even be considered as a possible match for her.”

Sophia felt a pang of regret at the truth of her aunt’s words. Mr. Brentwood stirred her senses and awakened things inside her that none of the other gentlemen she’d met had even touched.

“I felt the same way about Mr. Parker Wilson,” June continued. “Why should we allow her to waste time on someone she will never marry? I don’t see the wisdom in letting gentlemen who are not qualified to marry her call on her. She must be more selective.”

Sophia, Mae, and Sir Randolph remained silent.

“In fact, Sir Randolph,” June said testily, “you should have already done something about this travesty and tried to find her a different partner. It would have been very easy that night while we were still at Lord Tradesforke’s house, but I don’t see a reason why it can’t still be done.”

“We’ve already discussed that, Miss Shevington, and you know I can’t do that, nor would I if I could. I’ll leave it completely up to Sophia as to whom she wants to spend time with.”

“I think you are merely shirking your responsibility. She’s been in Society only three weeks, and she needs guidance from you.”

“Aunt June, I have some say in this,” Sophia said. “I do not want to change partners.”

Sir Randolph laid down the sheet of newsprint. “And you are being a tiresome shrew for no good reason, Miss Shevington.”

“Ah!” June gasped.

“She’s not planning on marrying the man,” Sir Randolph added. “If I had any fear of that, I would step in. This is a harmless outing in a rowboat. Mr. Brentwood has handled it perfectly well by asking that she meet him. You can watch them from the shore and make sure everything is circumspect.”

“Why does anyone need to practice rowing anyway?” June said, pulling all the cards together and stacking them in a neat pile. “It can’t be that difficult. This is just a ruse so he can spend time with her.”

“Of course it is,” Sir Randolph said. “Almost every eligible man in London wants to spend time with Sophia. I see nothing wrong with that. I’m satisfied that she is committed to keeping her oath to her father. That doesn’t mean she is not capable of making her own decisions about whom she sees until she settles on whom she shall marry.”

“Which brings me back to the fact that Viscount Hargraves is coming to call on her at two o’clock,” June added. “We certainly don’t want to hurry his visit, so I don’t see how we can possibly make a half-past-three appointment.”

“The viscount doesn’t need to stay more than an hour. He needs to know that Sophia is well sought after by a variety of gentlemen, and at times he might have to stand in line to be with her. Being busy can only enhance her possibilities of making the right match.”

“Oh, that is a good point, Sir Randolph,” Mae injected. “And I think if she and Mr. Brentwood win, it will make her even more attractive to the titled gentlemen.”

June sighed heavily. “I don’t understand why I don’t get even a thimbleful of help from my own dear sister. Sophia has beauty, intelligence, fortitude, and a fortune. How much more attractive can she be, Mae?”

“Miss Shevington,” Sir Randolph said, “You are right. She doesn’t need anything else to bolster her attributes, but you need to remember that you are her chaperone, not her jailer.”

June gasped again.

“Thank you, Sir Randolph,” Sophia said quickly, hoping to stop the antagonizing banter between her aunt and her guardian before it worsened. She didn’t know why Aunt June was constantly taking Sir Randolph to task over something. “I’m quite delighted to spend the afternoon rowing on the Serpentine. I’ll pick out something warm to wear.”

“Which will probably be difficult to do,” June said, making no effort to hide the fact that she was miffed. “It looks quite blustery out today. Why couldn’t the man have waited and picked a more pleasant-looking day?”

“And if you’ll excuse me, I must be going.” Sir Randolph rose.

“Me too,” Sophia said, leaving her breakfast half-eaten. “I’ll go upstairs now and write a note to Mr. Brentwood, telling him that he can expect us to be there. I’ll then get my bonnet and wrap and be ready to go to Timsford’s Square as soon as you are, Sir Randolph.”

Ignoring her sister’s complaining, Mae said to Sophia, “I should like to come with you and help pick out what to wear this afternoon, if you don’t mind.”

Sophia smiled. “I’d love the help, and from you too, Aunt June, if you’d care to join us.”

June lifted her chin defiantly. “Of course I’ll come. If you are going to this trumped-up outing, I want to make sure you are properly dressed.”