Chapter 16 #2
“I hope you weren’t too hard on him. He did what any loyal brother would have done under the circumstances.”
“I didn’t have to be hard on him—he is doing a good enough job of it on his own. Henry wouldn’t admit it, but I think even he was moved by the boy’s courage in coming to our house to find out how you were.”
Branford gave a ghost of a smile. “He’s a good lad.”
“Yes, I think he is, but don’t try to evade my question. I’m not leaving here until I get a satisfactory answer.”
“That I can well believe,” murmured Branford. He gave a deep sigh, only to have it cut short by another spasm of pain.
Cecilia tightened her gentle hold on his hand.
“Very well,” he said in tone of resignation.
“I was deep in my cups some weeks back—knowing Henry, I’m sure he voiced his concern over what he termed my destructive behavior.
A group of gentlemen were having a discussion—I was too drunk to comprehend any of it …
all I vaguely remember was being challenged to a bet. ”
Branford grimaced. “Which I accepted without knowing anything about it—though you clearly have heard the unsavory particulars.”
He drew in a ragged breath. “When I learned about the details several days later, I made a point of meeting Alex, and immediately realized that she was an innocent, not the experienced, worldly lady I had been tricked into pursuing. So I hurried to White’s that same night and blacked out the entry in the betting book, announcing that I refused to be part of such a despicable and dishonorable wager. ”
Cecilia huffed in frustration. “Sebastian! How could you be such an idiot!” .
“I admit it’s not ever wise to accept a bet without knowing—”
“That’s not what I meant. Why the devil didn’t you tell Miss Chilton this?”
“I … I …” Branford let his eyes fall shut again. “I don’t quite know why.”
To Cecilia, he looked utterly lost.
“I suppose I was hurt that she didn’t believe enough in me to know I would never hurt her.”
“Believe enough in you to know you would never hurt her,” repeated Cecilia.
“Ye gods, how unfair of you!” She shook her head in exasperation.
“Miss Chilton believed enough in you to become your friend, despite your public reputation. And then, instead of falling into a fit of vapors when a vicious rumor comes to her attention, she does what any intelligent young lady should do—she asks you whether the rumor is true!”
Branford shifted uncomfortably.
“And you, you had too much foolish pride to trust she would understand,” continued Cecilia. “Why, it is you who is guilty of not believing in a friend!”
A pause. “Honestly, I’m sorely tempted to shoot you myself,” she muttered.
For an instant, a harried smile ghosted across Branford’s lips before he lapsed back into an expression of utter dejection.
“Well, at least you did not actually ruin …”
His chin sunk to his chest
“Sebastian, you didn’t!”
A tinge of color washed the pallor from his face as he haltingly explained about Alex’s midnight foray, the gunshot requiring a late-night visit to his townhouse … and the kiss.
“Ye heavens … this makes things far more complicated. I need to think …”
“It is not what you might imagine,” he stammered. “It … well, it is rather impossible to explain what led to …” He paused and muttered a low oath. “Please fetch my coat from the dressing table chair.”
Cecilia raised her eyebrows in question but went to retrieve the garment.
“Look in the right-hand pocket.”
She pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
“Read it.”
She opened it and quickly scanned its contents. “Why, it’s a special license.”
“I was going to ask her to marry me that morning.”
Cecilia was silent for a moment. “Because honor demanded it?”
“No,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Because I love her, and the prospect of life without her seems intolerable.”
Her expression softened. “I’m happy to see that your intelligence hasn’t entirely deserted you, Sebastian.
” A smile. “The two of you are an excellent match. I like Miss Chilton very much—and I believe she has enough sense and spirit to manage you quite well!” She squeezed his hand.
“I wish you happy. And I truly believe that you will be.”
Branford finally opened his eyes—which were clouded with despair. “But I’ve made an impossible mull of it. She must hate me—and with ample reason. I …I fear that I’ve lost her.”
“No doubt she is very angry with you. And very hurt. But that has nothing to do with love.” She patted his arm. “I’ve seen her watch you in a crowded room, Sebastian. Things are not as hopeless as you think”
He looked at her with disbelief.
“Men!” she muttered under her breath. “I see that I shall have to have a little chat with Miss Chilton tomorrow in order to begin setting things right,” she continued in a firmer tone.
No!” cried Branford, rising up on one elbow, despite the pain in his side. “I mean, I cannot allow you to make excuses for my behavior—it would be more than cowardly. She must hear the truth from my own lips.”
“Of course,” agreed Lady Ashton. “I have no intention of explaining the particulars—she would neither want nor welcome it from me. I merely mean to have a little tete a tete with her concerning how brainless men are at times.” She smiled sweetly.
“It is fortunate you have other charms to make up for it.”
In spite of himself, Branford could not suppress a low chuckle. “You are impossible, Cecilia.”
“So Henry tells me.” She rose and planted another light kiss on his forehead. “Try to rest tonight and gather your strength. Somehow, I have the distinct feeling you are going to need it.”
Hammerton was feeling extraordinarily lucky. Sure enough, the dice came up favorably again.
Oh yes, he was on a roll.
Several of the players near him muttered drunken curses at his good fortune and drifted away to card tables. Flush with success, he tucked his winnings into his pocket, then turned and peered into the swirls of smoky haze enveloping the gaming hell, seeking his cousin.
He finally spotted him in one of the alcoves, a doxy on his lap, her skirts already pushed up around her thighs.
“We need to leave,” he said, coming up behind Standish’s chair.
His cousin froze. “Now?” he cried incredulously
A malicious smile crossed Hammerton’s face. “Yes, now. Button your breeches and come with me”
The doxie shifted slightly, then slipped from Standish’s lap. “P’rhaps some other time,” she said with a saucy grin.
“Couldn’t this have waited for a few more minutes?” whined his cousin as he took a silk handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the sweat on his brow.
“Trust me, Arthur, you’ll forget all about the damnable tart when you hear what I have to tell you.”
Taking his cousin by the arm, Hammerton turned for the exit.
Of all the gaming hells in London’s stews, this was one of the most disreputable dens of iniquity.
There was little chance of being recognized by anyone from Polite Society.
Nonetheless, Hammerton took care to keep his head down as he hurried Standish out the door and into the waiting carriage.
“I was looking forward to a night of pleasure,” complained Standish as he flung himself back against the squabs. “Couldn’t we have talked in there?”
Hammerton rapped on the trap and the carriage moved off.
“Your wits need to be sharp as a razor for the coming day,” he replied. “A most fortuitous thing has happened …”
He quickly recounted what had taken place earlier in the evening “It couldn’t be more perfect! I am now her protector. She trusts me implicitly.”
Standish’s jaw dropped in astonishment.
Hammerton responded with a smug laugh. “You wanted the matter resolved quickly? I assure you, by tomorrow night, she and her damnable brother will be a problem for us no longer. The plan couldn’t be simpler …”
He leaned forward and the two of them conversed in low tones for the rest of the ride back to Hammerton’s townhouse.