Chapter Three #3
For a moment, he thought Lockwood might refuse. But the baron’s reputation would suffer more damage from denying a gambling debt than from losing to a recently returned peer. With trembling fingers, Lockwood handed over the stack of papers.
Lucien stood, tucking the vowels into his coat pocket. “Trust me, you won’t see my father at these tables again.” He placed his hands on the table directly across from Lockwood. “But if you do, I advise you to refuse to play against him or there will be consequences.”
“Are you barring me from playing with your father?” Lockwood’s voice dripped with venom.
“No. I’m informing you that if you ever approach him again—here or anywhere else—I will ensure society knows exactly what kind of man you are.
Try finding a wife or open doors within society with that reputation hanging over your head.
” Lucien’s smile was cold. “I may have lost my memories, but I’ve gained something else: the ability to recognize predators wearing gentlemen’s clothes. ”
He turned to his father, who stared at him with a mixture of shame and awe. “Come, Father. Let’s go home.”
The earl stumbled to his feet, leaning heavily on Tarquin’s arm. As they made their way toward the exit, Lockwood called out, “This isn’t over, Furoe.”
Lucien didn’t bother turning around. “Yes, it is. Because next time, I won’t be so gentlemanly in expressing my displeasure.”
Outside, the cool night air helped clear his father’s head somewhat. The earl sagged against the carriage door; his face lined with misery.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “So sorry. I thought…if I could just win enough…fix what I’ve done to our family…”
“Gambling more won’t fix anything.” Lucien’s voice gentled slightly. “The damage is done, Father. Now we must focus on rebuilding.”
“How can you even look at me?” The earl’s voice cracked. “I’ve ruined everything. Your sisters’ futures, the estate, your mother’s legacy…”
“Yes, you have.” Lucien helped his father into the carriage, then climbed in after him. “But I’m here now. And I won’t let you destroy what little we have left.”
Tarquin joined them, signaling the driver to move. As the carriage rolled through London’s darkened streets, Lucien studied his father’s broken figure. The anger that had sustained him inside Crockford’s faded, leaving only a bone-deep weariness.
“Tomorrow,” he said quietly, “we will discuss terms. You’ll sign over control of all accounts to me.
No more gambling, no more drinking yourself into oblivion.
If you truly want to honor Mother’s memory, you’ll help me salvage what remains of our family’s legacy.
And perhaps a trip to our country estate will help. ”
The earl nodded miserably. “Whatever you say, my boy. Whatever you say.”
Lucien leaned back, the vowels heavy in his pocket. One crisis averted, but how many more awaited? How much damage had been done in those five years while he’d lived his simple life in Ireland? And how much of it could he truly repair?
Tarquin caught his eye and gave a slight nod of approval. At least he had allies in this strange new world he’d been thrust into. It felt strange to have to rely on Courtney’s brother. He would need these strangers in the battles to come.
“Be careful. You made an enemy tonight. Lockwood is a nasty piece of work.”
“I had little choice,” he replied. As with most things in his life, there was no choice.
As London’s grand houses gave way to the familiar stretch leading to Danvers House, Lucien found himself thinking of Courtney. If he married her immediately, this could all go away.
What would she make of this evening’s display? Would she recognize anything of the man she’d loved in his cold confrontation with Lockwood? Would Tarquin approve of the match? He had nothing to offer her.
Lucien didn’t know. But he was beginning to understand that he couldn’t simply step back into his old life. He would have to forge a new path, combining the strength he’d found in Ireland with the responsibilities he’d inherited here.
And perhaps that was the real legacy of Ava’s deception—not just what was lost, but what he’d gained. The ability to have experience in two worlds.
Courtney was right. He could build a new life, not like his life before his memory loss, or like his life in Ireland. Some combination of the two.
This time he’d build a world that he wanted. No more lies. No more making compromises. This would be on his terms.
He ran a weary hand over his face.
Damn it to hell. He just didn’t know what those terms were.
Lucien ignored his father’s loud snores.
“You could marry. I’m sure Courtney would look favorably on a marriage to you. She still loves you.”
“And your family would welcome that?”
Tarquin shrugged. “I saw an honorable man I recognized tonight. Courtney could do much worse.”
He closed his eyes, ashamed of what his family had become. “I know you mean well, Tarquin. However, I’d prefer to handle my affairs my way.” The carriage arrived outside his home. “Thank you for coming to me tonight. I am in your debt.” As he was indebted to everyone, it would seem.
As he helped his father inside, a thought sprung up in the back of his mind that Courtney could do much better than him.
And she probably knew it.