Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
“ D rinking so soon?” Felix asked as he arrived at the club.
He handed his cloak to the attendant then fell into the bench seat opposite Percy.
The club was dimly lit with the warm, orange glow of lamp light on the walls. A quiet murmur of conversation was soothing to the ear.
“As if you were not on your way to fetch a brandy yourself,” Percy retorted. “I did not think we would see much of you once you were married, but it seems you are always eager to escape that house of yours. How fares your new wife?”
Felix groaned. He had no desire to talk about or even think about Eloise.
That morning, he had been so tempted to drop the mail and take her there and then in the hallway. He had wanted to rip her gown off and consume her in the way that she had consumed his thoughts.
But he had to remain impervious against her overpowering allure. They were now married. The games they had previously played had to stop. Everyone knew marriage spelled disaster for a relationship.
There was also the unresolved issue of Jeremy. Felix’s concern about Jeremy’s potential reaction to their union had increased since his marriage to Eloise.
“More to the point,” he replied, “how is the brandy?”
“Oh dear.” Percy motioned for the footman who scuttled over and pulled the stopper out of the decanter before pouring the brandy. “That bad at home, is it?”
“Let us not speak of it. How are you?”
Percy nodded his head uncertainly. “Actually, I have some news. Drink your brandy. You are going to need it.”
Felix frowned. “What has happened?”
Percy drank back his own brandy in single gulp, motioned for Felix to do the same, then sat back as the footman refilled their glasses.
“You might as well stay put,” he said to the footman.
“That bad, is it?” Felix asked, eyebrows raised.
“It is Radcliffe. He is dead.”
Felix let out a sigh of relief. He had, for some reason, been expecting something much worse. “Oh, well, that is sad news, but we were hardly friends. We played a few games of cards together in the past.” Felix allowed himself a snort at the memory. “The man never was any good at it. Always gave his hand away.”
“That is just it,” Percy said. He leaned in as if telling a secret. “He… took his life. Debt. Mountains of it, apparently. That last game with you, it is said, was his last chance.”
Felix felt the breath go out of him. He loved to win, and he was brutal about it, but he would never want such a thing to happen. If only he had known Radcliffe was in such dire straits, he would never have bet so heavily against him. Felix did not even need the money; he was one of the wealthiest men in England.
“Poor old fool.”
The words came out harsher than Felix had intended, but had the man just asked for help, Felix would have willingly given it to him. Radcliffe was one of the worst card players Felix knew of. There was simply no way he could have won his money back in that fashion.
“Indeed,” Percy agreed. “Rumor has it that he knew how bold you were with your bets and thought he would have a go at winning it all back.”
Felix blew his breath out with puffed cheeks. “What is it with people scheming and conniving when they get themselves in a pickle instead of simply asking for what they need?”
“It certainly seems there is a lot of that about,” Percy replied as Felix downed his brandy and signaled for another. “And now that we have gotten that out of the way, why not tell me what is truly going on at home? I admit I was of the impression that you and Eloise were made for one another. Do not tell me the wife thing has gotten old so quickly?”
“You know that is not why I married her,” Felix said quietly, speaking his words into his brandy bowl.
“No, but… I mean, you are married now. You might as well enjoy the good parts.”
Felix drank back his third brandy, put it on the table with a gasp of satisfaction, and grinned. “Alternatively, I can leave the little wife at home?—”
“As you do often,” Percy interrupted.
“—and enjoy myself in the real world. I wonder if Miss Jones is available this evening. I must say that Radcliffe’s mistress tempts me, but under the circumstances, that might be going too far.”
Percy chuckled into his glass. “You old dog. Marriage cannot stop the infamous Felix Greystone from getting his, can it?”
“Absolutely not.”
With that, Felix nodded to Percy and left the club, going directly to Mayfair where he knew Miss Jones had recently taken an apartment. He knocked on the door and leaned heavily against the frame, his arms crossed and a smile on his face.
“Well, well,” Miss Jones said when she answered the door. “If it isn’t the Duke himself.”
Felix ogled her openly. She wore a thin, filmy nightgown, and her lips were painted a whore’s red. He laughed to himself, licked his lips, then stepped in through the door.
“Do not tell me that you have been waiting for me this whole time,” he said as she led him toward the parlor.
“You are not the only gentleman who pays me visits, Your Grace,” she said as she ran a manicured finger over the drinks cabinet and selected a bottle of red wine.
She poured them both a glass then handed one to Felix. He put it down, not interested in drinking more.
“Perhaps,” he conceded. “But I am the best.”
She giggled and tilted her head. “Perhaps,” she conceded.
He watched as she floated around the room, her lips permanently pursed, her eyes darting to his, looking at him as if he were the only man in the entire world.
Felix smirked to himself. Miss Jones did everything he had taught Eloise to do, and she did it very well, but there was one thing she could never do.
Be Eloise.
Miss Jones placed an elegant finger on his lips then trailed it down the line of his jaw and down across his chest.
“Well, since you’re here, Your Grace, perhaps you’d care to accompany me somewhere a little more… comfortable?”
Felix shifted his stance. He’d never before felt uncomfortable in such a situation. It made no sense to him. He’d lain with Miss Jones several times in the past, but now, her touch made him shudder in a rather unpleasant way. He didn’t want her hands on him.
He took a step back and smiled weakly at her. “Actually,” he said, “I think it might have been a mistake coming here.”
She sidled up to him. He could smell the remnants of wine on her breath and see the red stains on her teeth. “Now, now, Your Grace. By now you should know it’s never a mistake to lay with me.”
Felix sucked in his breath, desperate to get out of there.
He sidestepped out of her path, darted around her, and ran from the house.
If it wasn’t Eloise, he realized, it would be no one.