Chapter Ten
Rhys snatched a roll from the basket offered to him, then used it to mop up the gravy left over on his plate. “I’m going to steal away your cook. She must be mine.”
Lucy pointed a finger at him. “Don’t even think about it.”
Hart chuckled. “Besides, she needs a proper kitchen. What sort of abode do you crawl into at the end of each day?”
“I am offended. I have a house with a real kitchen,” Rhys retorted.
“You do?” Lucy said.
“Do you imagine I still live in the gutter?”
“I have imagined all sorts of possibilities, but the one I thought most likely was some flat in a decent rooming house.”
“I imagined you stayed at the Angel,” Hart chimed in. Both he and his wife looked at him curiously.
Rhys polished off his roll. It really was the best gravy he had ever had.
“I do have my own house. But I will admit that because I have traveled so often over the years, I just employ one housekeeper to clean and cook for me. Louisa is a gem.” He sighed as they continued to stare silently at him.
“I have recently acquired a dining table. Maybe I will invite you over for dinner sometime.”
Lucy’s eyes lit up. “That would be lovely. After the baby comes, perhaps. Until then, I feel more comfortable staying home.”
Hart took her hand and kissed her fingers. “And what did you do today to keep entertained?”
“I was supposed to visit with Violet this afternoon. But she sent a note this morning saying that her husband was back early from the country and she was unable to come. I was quite disappointed.”
Back early? Rhys straightened. “When did he arrive home?”
Lucy sent him a quizzical look. “The note from Violet came around ten this morning, so my guess is that he returned yesterday.” She shrugged.
Shit. She was unprotected in that house with her husband. Perhaps he could still make sure Sommerset met a gruesome end. His thoughts darkened at how satisfying it would be to kill that bastard.
“Good Lord, Seaton, you look positively murderous,” Lucy said.
“I was with her yesterday afternoon.”
“You were? Why?”
“You asked me to keep an eye on her. She was somewhere she didn’t belong, and I escorted her home.”
“That is very cryptic,” Hart said.
“I can’t say what she was doing. But you were right to be concerned about her husband. Do you know which club he frequents?”
Hartwick nodded. “Whites, same as his father and his grandfather before him.”
“Does he gamble?”
“Some, but not excessively. Mostly he is a sot, is what I have heard.”
Rhys stood. “Thank you for dinner. I have something to take care of.”
Hartwick lowered his eyebrows. “What do you have to take care of?”
“Don’t worry, I promised her I wouldn’t kill him.”
Lucy gasped. “You promised what?”
Rhys bent to buss her cheek. “Thanks for dinner. Don’t fret, I’m keeping an eye on Violet.”
Twenty minutes later, he slipped into the main lounge of Whites.
A waiter approached him and asked if he required anything from the bar.
Rhys ordered a brandy. Not that he would drink it, but it would help him blend in.
He made his way slowly around the room, observing the play of cards while searching for Lord Sommerset.
Ah ha, there the bastard was; he sat in a leather wingback chair, a glass of liquor clutched in his hand. Sommerset’s eyes were bloodshot and puffy. He spoke with two other men. One man said something, and all three howled with laughter.
Rhys moved closer to the cluster of seats where the three men sat but stayed out of their sightline. Not that any of them would recognize him. He was always a ghost.
“That wench was so talented she nearly sucked my brains out through my cock,” one of the men said.
Sommerset nodded. “I told you she was a fantastic shag.”
“Thanks for passing her along. Now that you’ve got a wife, you can get shagged anytime you want.”
“Wives do not suck cock. Trust me.” Sommerset took a swallow from his glass. “Besides, I have done my duty and gotten her pregnant. I am free to take a mistress again. Although my lady does have a delicious ass. Perhaps I’ll take advantage of my marital duties tonight after all.”
His friends laughed and clinked his glass in a toast.
Rhys’s hand tightened around his own glass so hard the cut crystal bit painfully into his palm.
What kind of man talked about his wife like he spoke about a prostitute?
The hell you will lay one finger on your wife tonight, you prick.
Rhys slipped over to the bar. He set down his glass and gave a nod to the bartender. “This isn’t to my liking.”
“I am sorry, sir. What can I pour for you instead?”
“What is Lord Sommerset drinking? He was exclaiming loudly how excellent it was.”
The bartender’s expression soured briefly as he glanced over at Sommerset. “He always drinks Armagnac.”
“I’ll have that, then.”
“Right away, sir.”
After taking the glass of Armagnac, Rhys discreetly pulled a thin metal vial from the inside of his jacket.
Lowering the glass below the lip of the bar, he poured about half of the sleeping powder into the brandy.
He swirled the liquid in the glass, watching it dissolve, and examined why he was so angry on behalf of a woman he barely knew.
Rhys prided himself on his cold control, but everything about Violet Sommerset sent his emotions rising to the surface.
Fear for her safety, rage at her worthless husband hurting her.
Surely that was it. Who wouldn’t be angry at a man who would hit a pregnant woman?
A man who would disrespect his wife openly in front of others?
At least for tonight, Violet wouldn’t have to worry about being subjected to that sack of shit.
He turned and leaned his elbow against the bar, waiting for his opportunity.
Less than ten minutes later, it came as Sommerset put down his empty glass on the side table next to him.
Rhys strolled past and, as easy as pie, switched the glasses.
Rhys stayed long enough to see Sommerset reach absently for his glass.
The man didn’t even blink twice at the full glass at his elbow, simply picking it up and taking a deep gulp.
Either he was too drunk to question the fresh glass, or the service here was so reliable that he wasn’t surprised to have his glass refilled.
That’s it, lad, drink up. Rhys set the empty glass on the bar and whistled a low tune as he meandered out of the room.
He exited the building as he had come in, through the service entrance.
Walking up the stairs to the street, he stepped out into the cold night air.
Breathing deeply, Rhys tipped his head up to gaze at the full moon, round and bright in the sky.
He felt somewhat better knowing that Sommerset would be sleeping for the next twelve hours.
But he couldn’t tamp down his worry for Violet.
She had been so wan yesterday when he had left her at her home.
He blew out a frustrated breath. Fuck. Then he turned and headed for Hanover Square.