Chapter 3 #3
The newcomer, an equally tall but lankier version of Christopher, returned their greetings. “Christopher, your grace, it is nice to see you both.”
A silence hung in the air, but Christopher was quick to fill it, motioning for his cousin to take a seat in the remaining chair in their corner. “Charles, I did not realize you were in town for the season. You should have sent word.”
“Well, dear cousin, I could say the same,” Charles teased. “I am surprised to see you here for the season, and out in society it seems. I wonder if you have found it time to take a wife.”
At this, Graham piped up. “Well, he is not really looking for himself; I am in need of his cynicism as I venture into the game of matrimony.”
“But what he fails to mention is that even if I offer advice, he would not take it,” Christopher rejoined, shooting his friend a pointed look.
“Of course I would. I need your guidance. Who else would tell me I should be wary of the most beautiful and charming lady at the ball?”
“Like I said, you know nothing of her family!”
“It is just because she dared talk to you,” Graham countered. “And she mentioned your injury. I forgot to ask, did you have to tell her how you got it?”
Charles cut in. “Wait, wait, whose family? And I was wondering what happened to your eye, but I thought it rude to mention.”
“See?” Christopher remarked, thankful to prove his point. “Charles thinks it uncouth.”
“You need to let it go,” Graham replied. “She was probably just concerned. I found Lady Alaina quite charming.”
“Lady Alaina?” Charles asked, trying to keep up with the conversation.
“Daughter to the Earl of Norwich,” Christopher answered quickly. “But Graham is smitten and nothing I say will deter him, so we can change the subject. How are things with you this season, Charles?”
Charles seemed surprised to have the conversation turn to him so quickly. “I am in town on business. Seems that even when you have people to manage things for you, every so often a shipment or two of goods requires my personal attention.”
“Ah, yes,” Graham interrupted. “Christopher had mentioned you were making a good turn at becoming a successful merchant. What is it that you trade?”
“Mostly spices and silks,” Charles answered, adjusting his cravat as he settled into the chair a bit more. A server came by with an empty glass for Charles.
“No trouble, I hope?” Christopher inquired.
Charles cleared his throat and squirmed in his seat, but answered smoothly. “No issues that are out of bounds of normal business, I assure you.”
Christopher was thankful for the turn in conversation.
He hoped it would steer clear of Lady Alaina for the rest of the evening, for he could not trust his mind to stay as honorable as his intentions.
Grabbing the decanter, he filled their three glasses before drinking a healthy portion of the burning liquid.
If he were lucky, enough brandy would dull any further mention of the ball.
Somewhere in White’s the clock chimed two o’clock in the morning.
Charles rubbed his eyes, trying to focus on the sloshing brown liquid once more.
Several hours after arriving, he found himself decidedly alone.
Charles quickly threw back what remained in his glass and made to rise from his chair, but a voice stopped him.
“Calling it quits already?”
Charles did not have to turn to see who it was, and resettled himself in his chair just as Percy took the chair opposite him, the chair ironically occupied by the man’s cousin, the Duke of Ashford, just thirty minutes prior.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Charles said, feigning congeniality.
Percy seemed to catch Charles’s tone. “Come now, my friend, surely I am owed a better greeting.”
A tight smile remained on Charles’s face as he responded. “Forgive me, between my oft-ignored correspondences and your near-constant throng of flaky investors, I would have expected you would have harbored the frosty feelings.”
Percy waved his hand with an air of confidence. “Nonsense, I am just bad at writing ’tis all. As for the investors, the noncommittal group to date has infuriated me just the same. I am glad to have run across you in London, what good luck.”
“Hmm.” Charles placed his hands on his knees, silently hoping to escape Percy’s company. However, another gentleman quickly took the spot that Christopher had occupied earlier, flopping into the chair.
“Charles,” Percy started, seeming to ignore that one’s wish to leave, “May I introduce you to Lord Richard Finch. Finch, this is Charles Kendall, the trader I was telling you about just the other day.”
Charles felt heat rise in his face at the slight of the man’s introduction, one without his proper title, but refused to dignify it with a correction. The men were equal in the eyes of society, even if Percy held onto unrealistic ambitions.
Richard turned an almost predatory smile on Charles. “Nice to meet you, Charles. Percy tells me you trade all over the world, amazing how you work so hard.”
Charles gritted his teeth, all of a sudden wishing for a whole bottle of brandy to appear on their table. “Nice to meet you as well,” he responded minimally.
Only a moment of awkward silence fell before Percy seemed to once again take on the role of facilitator. “So, Charles, what are you finding turns a good profit in trade these days? Or are the rumors true that you are in London to get your business on better footing?”
Charles cleared his throat in an effort to clear his head; he was intent to leave, and was wary of being lured into a longer evening with inane prattle.
“You should not believe everything you hear. Things have not much changed. Silks are always in demand, especially in London, and spices always turn a profit. And I am surprised at you, Percy, bandying rumors about when you know how much damage they can do. If I were to believe everything I heard, I would be worried to look behind you and see a runner ready to haul you away to debtor’s prison, but I know that could not be further from the truth. ”
Percy’s eyes narrowed as Charles spoke, but only momentarily. Richard cut through the silence after Charles’ answer. “Sounds like good business, certainly enough for a good drink and a game of cards now and then, am I right?”
A grunt escaped Charles, which the other two gentlemen seemed to take as one of assent.
It was not long before a fresh decanter made its appearance on the table, each gentleman with a fresh glass, and cards were in Charles’s hand.
A few sips of the brown liquid, and any thought of quiet twilight hours at home fled from Charles’s mind; he would play just a game or two to be polite and then be on his way.