Chapter 20
James
Once the card game concluded, and James had sufficiently recovered his senses thanks to several cups of strong tea, Gideon and James made their way to the billiards table, Frances in tow.
James couldn’t quite explain it. On the one hand, he would rather be alone with his friend.
On the other hand, he liked Frances’s presence.
It was clear that his friend was fond of her.
The two bantered as though they had known one another for a long time, and he had to admit it felt quite natural. He had never thought it possible to feel natural to have a young woman keep company with him and his best friend, but it did.
It was also alarming.
Once he had thoroughly beaten Gideon at billiards, Frances bobbed a graceful curtsy and bid them a good night that was almost melodic, and returned to her chamber.
“Well, well,” Gideon said. “And there you were telling me that you were never going to settle down.”
“I have not settled down.”
“Really? You have a lovely woman living in your house, and she can spar with you without any problem. I can already tell that just after one dinner with her.”
“She and I have an arrangement,” James said. “Somerset Trust was breathing down my neck. You know this. She is helping me by presenting herself as my wife, and I am helping her in a similar fashion. She needed to find a husband. She is lowborn.”
“Did you not say she’s a gentleman’s daughter?”
“Yes, but not titled. Besides, her father is quite a wretched piece of work, as is her stepmother.”
“Oh, so you have that in common. A horrible father. Does she know about yours?”
“Vaguely,” James said, “and I do not want her to know more than she already does. Besides, I don’t know if we should talk about this here. The walls have ears.”
“Ears that you pay for. If you think one of your servants is disloyal, simply let them go.” Gideon shrugged. “But I understand what you mean. Say, why don’t we go to the club? I know there is one nearby in town. What’s it called? Hamilton’s?”
“Yes,” James said. He hadn’t been to the club in some time, not since returning from London. “Hamilton’s it is, then.”
“Yes. ” Gideon replied. “Unless you think your wife would disapprove?”
James took a deep breath. “I already told you we do not have that sort of relationship. She and I are both entirely free to do whatever we please. It is a marriage of convenience, nothing more. Nothing has changed.”
“If you say so,” Gideon said. “Then you will not mind if we go?”
As if to prove his point, James walked to the door and rang the bell. Once Franklin appeared, he ordered him to ready the carriage at once.
Fifteen minutes later, the two gentlemen were ready to go. James sat in the carriage beside Gideon.
Why did he think that anything had changed, even after he had already explained? Or was there something that Gideon could see that James could not?
He glanced at his friend, who was whistling as the carriage pulled out of the driveway.
Could it be that Gideon had sensed his doubt? It was true that he was becoming more and more impressed with Frances.
James found that quite alarming. Back at his godmother’s house, he hadn’t thought twice about the odd twinges he felt in his heart when he was around Frances because they had been safe there. She wasn’t going to be his anything but his godmother’s guest. They were going to part ways.
But now they were married, living in this godforsaken house that he had always hated so much, and she was popular with the tenants.
Even Mr. Morrison was impressed. The servants liked her.
And Gideon did, too. And the truth was, so did James.
He had been glad when she agreed to come to dinner, and he had enjoyed the conversation.
But it wasn’t safe. None of this was safe.
No, he had to prove to himself and to his friend that nothing had changed at all.
They arrived at Hamilton’s a half hour later and entered. Immediately, Gideon had a bottle of scotch brought over and poured them each two glasses up to the rim.
“To freedom!” he toasted.
“To freedom,” James echoed, though the word sounded hollow to his own ears. He’d just recovered from having too much to drink at dinner and wasn’t terribly keen to drink more.
“Another round of billiards?” Gideon asked, and James nodded. “Very well. Winner pays for the next bottle.”
“You already know that I always win,” James scoffed.
“Exactly,” Gideon said with a wink.
James took the cue stick.
The two played a couple of rounds before Gideon paused. “Tell me, all jesting aside, don’t you really think that there is a chance you and Frances might find your way to one another? After all, is it really so bad to have a ball and chain?”
“It is not about that,” James replied. “I cannot put myself into a situation where I might lose control. I cannot allow my heart to rule my head.”
“James, you cannot control every aspect of your life all the time. Also, you are missing all the spontaneity. There truly is something to be said for not living by a strict schedule at all times. Besides, you cannot keep blaming yourself for something that was out of your control.”
“But it wasn’t!” James protested, banging the cue stick down on the ground. “It was not out of my control. I could’ve kept my wits about me. I could’ve refrained from lashing out at my father. Marcus wouldn’t have had to defend me then, and he wouldn’t have—”
Gideon raised a hand. “I know. I know what happened. But James, you cannot keep blaming yourself for the rest of your life. You torture yourself needlessly, old friend. Even a part of you must know that what happened was not your fault. You were but a green boy, after all.”
James shook his head. “No. I cannot, I must not, and I will not allow any unpredictable factors into my life. I must maintain order in all things. In due course, Frances and I will live in different houses. In fact, I’m already thinking of sending her back to London, and I will stay here.
Or the opposite. That might be better. In any case, cease your pestering. Nothing has changed.”
“You speak of her with a certain warmth, you know,” Gideon observed.
“I do no such thing.”
“You do. And your eyes follow her when she leaves a room.”
“Utter nonsense.”
“Is it? I think you protest too much, old friend.”
James did not respond.
“Very well,” Gideon said. “Come, let’s go to the back rooms.”
James hesitated. “The back rooms?”
“Yes. If nothing has truly changed, then I assume you do not oppose a visit to the back rooms to watch the beautiful ladies dance?”
James swallowed. He hadn’t anticipated a visit to the back rooms. Just like some of the less reputable places in London, Hamilton’s had a back room area where gentlemen went to forget their troubles in drink and dalliances.
Where ladies of questionable virtue, in states of undress, waited for gentlemen wishing to spend time with them.
He had visited in the past, but recently it hadn’t occurred to him to visit again.
“I do not know. What if someone from Somerset Trust sees me?”
“How many employees of Somerset Trust do you know are members of Hamilton’s?
I believe it is against the club’s rules to be connected to Somerset Trust if one wishes to be a member.
At least not in a professional manner. There are so many lords here who have business with Somerset Trust and would not want them spying on them. The club prides itself on discretion.”
It was true. James knew that Hamilton’s did not admit anyone other than titled gentlemen, and the two titled gentlemen who lived in the area and worked for Somerset Trust, though not connected to James’s estate, were not permitted to become members.
“If you would rather not because of your marri—”
“Nonsense,” James interrupted and pushed past Gideon toward the back door. He let himself in and was immediately surrounded by smoke that always seemed to hang around these places.
He saw a group of gentlemen lounging on couches, and ladies with little to no clothing on sitting beside them.
Gideon found them a table nearby, where he deposited the bottle and two glasses he had brought with him from the other room. He refilled the glasses and slid one over to James.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” a maid said as she sauntered over.
Her practiced smile promised pleasures James had once sought eagerly. Her long blonde hair hung down, covering her chest, which itself was covered by a very thin layer of muslin.
“Can I interest you in something else to drink? Or some other entertainment?”
“My friend here is interested in entertainment,” Gideon said.
James looked up at him.
“Is that all?” the maid asked and took two steps toward James.
She wrapped one arm around his shoulder and ran her other hand through his hair, ruffling it. She smelled of vanilla and orange, a combination he usually found alluring but found disagreeable now.
“And what is your name?” she asked.
“James,” Gideon supplied.
“James. If you are interested in a little entertainment, I do have a chamber upstairs that is very private. What do you say?”
James looked at Gideon, who grinned at him.
“If nothing has changed, then why not?” Gideon smirked.
Curse him to hell.
James couldn’t very well send the maid away and insist that nothing had changed, or he would never hear the end of it. Besides, nothing had changed.
So why shouldn’t he go upstairs with the maid? Why shouldn’t he enjoy himself? Surely Frances did not expect him to remain celibate for the rest of their lives.
He finished his glass and slammed it down on the table.
“Do not wait up,” he told Gideon, and wrapped an arm around the blonde woman.
Together, they walked out of the back door, and she took his hand, leading him upstairs. The alcohol already made his head swim as he stumbled up the stairs.
At the landing, the maid attempted to pull him toward a door, but James found himself standing still. Every part of his body resisted going with her.
This wasn’t right. This wasn’t what he wanted. He couldn’t go with this woman. He couldn’t spend the night with her. It didn’t feel right.
He had never been so hesitant before. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve been through that door and in her bed already, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Frances.
They had decided on the matter of taking lovers during their time together. He had told her she couldbut it didn’t feel right. In fact, the very thought of her being with anybody else made him feel quite ill.
What was wrong with him? Was he falling for her?
That couldn’t be. He couldn’t allow himself to.
No, he should press forward. He should spend the night with this maid, take his mind off things. And yet his feet refused to move.
He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself in the morning.
He already knew this. He was a man who tried to always center his morals, to live by a moral code he had imposed upon himself, and that moral code would not allow him to go into the room with the maid.
He was not a cad. He would not dishonor his wife thus, arrangement or not.
No, he wanted to go home to Frances, even though this was foolish, for he wasn’t going home to her at all. But he wanted to go home. To the home that they shared. To the home where he knew her head rested on a pillow in the east wing, down the hall from him. To the place where she was. To her.
This was madness. He was a married man. The fact that their marriage was in name only seemed suddenly insufficient justification.
Frances deserved better than this. And so, strangely, did he.
“Excuse me,” he said and stuffed his hand into his pocket. He pulled out a few guineas and handed them to the maid. “Take the rest of the night off. If anyone asks, I was here all night.”
“Have I done something to cause offense, Sir?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Not in the least. But I must go.”
“Sir?” the woman called after him, confused.
But James was already gone, fleeing down the stairs as though the hounds of hell were at his heels.
He turned and walked away, out the back door. His carriage had already left. No wonder—he had told Gideon not to wait for him.
Quickly, he borrowed a horse from the groom around the back, promising that he would return the beast on the morrow, and then rode home, his heart and mind more confused than ever before.