Chapter Three #3
A few he recognized from his gaming hells. They were not about to acknowledge him, although they were not above sneering at him. Had they purposely gone out of their way to walk by him for the express purpose of putting him down?
He did not care what any of them thought of him.
But he did care about Berry’s attempts to raise funds for St. Brigid’s. Would his presence hurt her efforts? He ought to have considered this before accepting her invitation.
Well, too late now. If it did become a problem, he would make up any shortfall in her donations goal.
As he stood in contemplation, someone rudely bumped his shoulder and spilled a little champagne onto the cuff of his shirt sleeve. “Viscount Hawthorne, I am surprised to see you here.”
The man was already drunk and stumbling. Or had the toad knocked into him on purpose? Was he looking to cause a scene?
“No more than I am surprised to see the likes of you here, Knight,” he said with undisguised venom. “What are you doing here?”
“Same reason as you—I was invited.”
Hawthorne narrowed his beady eyes. “And by what trickery did you obtain an invitation from my betrothed?”
“Your betrothed?”
What in blazes?
“I was not aware you were engaged to marry,” Gideon said, trying to curb his temper as he withdrew his handkerchief and blotted the spill on his cuff. “Surely you cannot be referring to Lady Berengaria.”
Hawthorne finished his champagne and then grabbed another off the tray of a passing servant before looking over at Berry. “Of course I am.”
“Lady Berry? You and she are betrothed?” Well, Gideon would have to put an end to that courtship, assuming it was true.
But how could it be? There was no way on this green earth that Lord Berwick would allow Hawthorne to sink his fortune-hunting claws into Berry.
“We are soon to be betrothed,” Hawthorne clarified.
Gideon breathed a sigh of relief. The clot hadn’t proposed to her yet. He could not imagine Berry’s accepting him.
Lord Berwick would nip it in the bud if she did. The man had good sense and was obviously protective of Berry.
Gideon moved on, ignoring Hawthorne as the man began to toss accusations about his being cheated at the Musket Club. A lethal look from Gideon silenced him quickly, but the clot seemed to be following him around and looking for more opportunities to cause mischief.
Was his animosity due to the gambling debt he had accumulated? Or was this mostly about Berry?
Gideon ran an honest club, and Hawthorne ought to be thanking him and Joss for containing him and keeping him from digging a deeper hole of debt for himself.
Regarding Berry, Gideon had made no move on her. Nor would he ever.
Perhaps it was that the sluggard did not like the idea of an outsider intruding in these Society affairs.
Well, he did not like Hawthorne, either.
Nor did he expect to make a habit of attending these suffocating affairs. This was the first and probably the last time he would ever be invited.
He settled at Berry’s table to chat with the Berwicks and the Lawson ladies, Miranda and her niece, Gwenys, who proved to be quite genial.
Gwenys was to make her debut next year, although she was of age and could have made her come-out this year.
But she could not stop gawking at Gideon or giggling every time he turned to her in conversation, so he thought Lady Miranda was wise to keep her niece off the Marriage Mart for a little while longer in order to gain sufficient maturity.
Berry returned, gathered the papers she had left by her plate, and then took a deep breath. “Here we go. Wish me luck,” she said, casting him a dimpled smile.
She did not need luck. Gideon knew she was going to charm everyone.
He listened attentively as she gave her speech and then began her appeal for donations.
Hawthorne stood up and pledged one hundred pounds that Gideon knew he did not have.
The wastrel viscount would renege on his pledge when it came time to collect.
The man made Gideon’s blood boil, and he had to curl his hands into fists to keep calm when Berry cast the wretched boor a breathtaking smile and thanked him.
Others stood up next, some handing over banknotes on the spot and others pledging donations to be delivered to Berry before the end of the week.
Since many of the gentlemen frequented his clubs, Gideon knew the ones who would honor their pledges and those who would not. Fortunately, most would. But there were a few bounders like Hawthorne who would disappoint Berry.
Not that it mattered.
Gideon was determined to make up any shortfall.
Berry next moved on to her small auction, thanking those who had donated items for it. He was happy for her when the auction proved a success.
He was also surprised by the number of guests who participated. Well, not all of them were insufferable fools. It appeared most genuinely wanted to help out a good cause.
Also, Berry knew what she was doing. She was not only honest and sweet, but also intelligent.
He thought of her as a rose in her garden, one that had beautifully blossomed under the capable guidance of Lord Berwick, a decent and honest fellow. Berry’s father had put his trust in the right friend to care for his daughter.
It took Berry the entire afternoon to reach her goal, but in between her speeches and coaxing, there was more food and entertainment.
Still not enough food to feed a rabbit. Or an ox like him, Gideon mused.
An orchestra began to play, and there was a small dance floor erected for those who wished to dance.
Gideon knew better than to ask Berry. To be seen with her was bad enough. To be seen dancing with her would damage her reputation and hurt her future charity undertakings.
Hawthorne had no such hesitation, and asked her to dance. She did not appear pleased, but reluctantly agreed.
The snake cast Gideon a triumphant sneer.
Gideon was ready to smash his fist into Hawthorne’s nose.
Lady Miranda happened to be seated beside him and grabbed his arm when he started to rise. “You do realize he is purposely riling you.”
He sighed and eased back in his chair. “Yes.”
“If you hit him, it is Berry who will be hurt most.”
“I know. I was merely going to intimidate him, not actually lay a hand on him.”
Lady Miranda cast him a stern look. “It is all the same. Whether you hit him or not, he will have won. Isn’t it the height of hypocrisy? We all detest Hawthorne, and yet most of these guests would consider him a better match than you for their daughters.”
“Lady Berry’s guests have made that quite clear. Hawthorne was not the only one to snub me.”
“I’m sorry for it. You seem to be a decent fellow. Lord Berwick thinks very highly of you.”
“Then I am honored,” Gideon said, for he thought very highly of Lord Berwick as well.
“One other thing, Mr. Knight,” Lady Miranda said, once again taking hold of his forearm when his gaze darted to Berry and Hawthorne dancing.
“Yes?”
She and her niece grinned at him. “We are not sorry we made Berry hold our tea society meetings at her house this past month so we could watch you shirtless. But she absolutely refuses to tell us what is that dark patch on your upper arm. Is it something wicked and dreadfully shocking?”
He laughed and shook his head, appreciating that some of Berry’s friends were nice.
“It is a dragon tattoo, that’s all. No significance other than an old man came around to my club, obviously frail and hungry, but too proud to beg for food.
So I had him draw the dragon on my arm. He comes around weekly now, and I pay him for every worker of mine who decides they need one, too.
He’s quite the artist and can draw anything requested.
One man had a sea battle drawn on his back—frigates, cannon bursts, sails catching the wind, and roiling waves.
Not sure what the point of it was, since he could not see the masterpiece.
But that old man surely was proud of his work. ”
“That is remarkably kind of you,” Gwenys said.
He shrugged. “I know what it means to be hungry and destitute.”
Lady Miranda smiled at him. “It seems our friend, Fiona, chose the perfect buyer for her home. She must have seen that kindness in you and known you would make a good neighbor for us.”
“I hope that proves true,” he said, and meant it, for these ladies on Duchess Square were proving kinder and more accepting of him than he’d ever expected.
But any feeling of warmth soon faded as Hawthorne and a few of his boorish friends passed by him again and tossed cutting remarks.
Again, he cared not a rat’s arse what they thought of him. But he did not want his continued presence hurting Berry’s charity cause.
When he rose to leave, since this afternoon affair was nearing its end anyway, Lord Berwick drew him aside and insisted on his staying. “Please, Knight. This is important to me.”
“All right,” Gideon said with a nod, and waited patiently while Berry bade the last of her guests farewell.
She had an exceptionally sweet smile for each of them.
That smile. Would she bestow one on him, too?
He did not know why he ached for it.
He stepped forward once the last of the attendees had gone.
“Oh, you are still here,” Berry remarked, a little surprised.
“Lord Berwick asked me to remain behind. Do you know what this is about?”
“No, not a clue. I wonder what he has in mind.”
As her staff began to clear away the tables, Gideon escorted her into her study, where Lord and Lady Berwick were awaiting them.
Lord Berwick had taken possession of the donations pouch and was busy tabulating the receipts as they walked in. “You did very well, Berry. In fact, you exceeded your target.”
Her eyes lit up as she took a seat in one of the cushioned floral chairs beside Lady Berwick. “Really? I hoped I would. I tried to keep count as I went along but the task was in vain. I was constantly distracted.”