Chapter Six #2
Seth had kicked and screamed, flipped his bed in his rage and his pain and his grief.
He had screamed his throat raw and weakened from atrophy by the time that Bishop came to him with a discharge from the Royal Army and a letter from Lord Bolderwood to return home.
The last image burned into his mind was that of Bishop, standing pristine and unharmed, looking down on him with pity and disdain before he strode from the room, his perfectly polished boots clipping down the tiled floors.
A hush came over the dining hall as another man sauntered in, commanding the room without a word.
As if Midas himself had dressed him, the gentleman wore a white evening suit with a golden waistcoat, golden rings fit with rubies and emeralds adorned every finger.
A diamond encrusted quizzing glass glimmered around his neck, tucked under wispy platinum hair.
Duke Kendall, Frederick Kendall the Third, took his seat at the head of the table opposite Lord Bolderwood.
Lord Bolderwood roamed these halls like a bull, confident, sturdy, and strong. The Duke was another beast altogether. There was something slithering underneath the glamor that had alarms ringing in Seth’s ears.
He knew a snake when he saw one.
The Duke took his place at the head of the table and raised a champagne glass.
The hall stood. “A toast! To my three finalists, Viscount Lincolnshire, Colonel Bishop, and Mr. Alexander Nott. I recognize the efforts that it took to be seated at this table, and I applaud you for it. There are few greater entertainments in this world than innovation, competition, and violence.” He waggled his eyebrows to pockets of obligatory chuckles.
“Let us raise our glasses to Earl Bolderwood, for hosting this grand affair, and to the men pitted against each other in a battle of wits. May the best man win.”
“Hear, hear!”
After the Duke lowered his glass, Seth took his last sip of spirits that he would allow himself for the stay.
The wine was tart and left an unpleasant dryness in his mouth.
In a practiced maneuver, Seth placed the full glass discreetly out of the range of temptation.
From the opposite side of the table, he watched Lord Bolderwood do the same with a subtle nod in his direction.
Dear God.
Was that acknowledgment?
Servants brought forth a salad of mixed greens drizzled in an herbal vinaigrette, topped with crumbled goat cheese and sun-dried tomatoes.
The woman to the right of him, Baroness Matilda Franklin, used the opportunity to scoot her chair closer to her husband, Baron Josiah Franklin, the plum-faced man from before.
Her lips locked together in a vise. She avoided Seth’s eyes, so he turned them across the table.
“I daresay that I’m not the only one surprised to see you in attendance Lord Lincolnshire.” Bishop leaned forward to talk to Cooper around Cassandra, who delicately sat further back to accommodate the conversation and demurely looked off to the side. “Have you come to rub elbows with your betters?”
“I have in fact.” Cooper swiveled his gaze from one side of the table to the other, salad fork poised in the air with an unfinished bite. “Would you care to point one out?”
“Now, now, boys. Let’s try to have a fair fight,” Lady Dorchester said, signaling for a footman to refill her wineglass. “You.” She pointed at Seth, then directed her gaze to Cooper expectantly. “I do not believe we’ve met.”
“Lady Dorchester, please allow me to introduce you to my business associate, Mr. Seth Reeves,” Cooper said obediently and chuckled. “Go easy on him, Aunt Valentine. He’s my only source of income.”
“Mr. Reeves?“ Lord Dorchester mused. Silver hair and skin pale enough for Seth to understand why they called nobles blue bloods, he raised a quizzing glass to his eye. “Or Captain Reeves?”
Seth flinched.
“Captain Reeves?” A young gentleman on the far side of the table asked loudly, garnering attention to the conversation. The lad had straw blond hair, eager brown eyes, and bounced with excitement as he spoke. “I’ve read all about you! Is it true that you pulled ten men from a burning building?”
Seth’s eyes flitted over to lock with Bishop’s.
“Nine,” Bishop clipped, lips pulled back in a sneer.
“Tell me, Mr. Reeves…” Lady Dorchester took a sip of her wine. “Are you in the market for a woman?”
Cassandra choked on a sip of her water across the table. A blush beset her features as she apologized.
“Oh Cassandra, dear, are you all right?”
“Fine.” Cassandra recovered, but looked into her lap. She suppressed a smaller cough through her closed lips. She took Bishop’s offered napkin and dabbed at her lips before giving the man a comfortable smile. Seth frowned, but tore his gaze away and gave Lady Dorchester his best dazzling smile.
“As flattered as I am, I try not to involve myself in extramarital entanglements,” Seth replied before nodding to Lord Dorchester. “My lord.”
“I like you.” Lady Dorchester laughed, and gestured to the lady seated next to him with a delicate hand. “Allow me to present my daughter, Jasmine.”
Lady Jasmine turned to him with a bright smile. “You must be the ruffian!”
Ruffian?
“Manners, child,” her mother chided. “We’re in public.”
“You’ll have to be careful with society mamas, Mr. Reeves. Not all of them are as direct as Lady Dorchester,” the Duke warned from the head of the table.
The Baroness spoke past Seth with a grimace, “If you’re looking for a husband for your daughter, I have three eligible sons. Gentlemen.”
“I’ve met your sons, Matilda, and the words eligible and gentlemen can be used loosely.
” Lady Dorchester took a slow sip of her wine, savoring it on her tongue before she continued, “My daughter could do far worse than a man whose bravery was proven in battle rather than alleyway brawls on St. James’s Street. ”
The woman turned as purple as her husband’s cravat, her lips in a line so tight they disappeared entirely. Lord Dorchester took his wife’s hand and squeezed, one corner of his lips lifted.
“Manners, darling. We’re in public.”
Clinking cutlery and moving plates filled the air as servers cleared the first course and brought forth plates of roasted pheasant in a cream sauce.
“Colonel Bishop, you were Captain Reeves’ commanding officer, were you not?” The straw-haired lad asked, “How does it feel to be in competition with a former comrade?”
Bishop seemed to ponder the question before he leaned in next to Cassandra in a decidedly familiar motion, putting his head close to hers.
Hardly a foot away, one of his hands disappeared under the table.
Seth’s chest tightened as Bishop kept eye contact with him while he spoke softly into Cassandra’s ear.
Her face flushed as red as Seth’s untouched wine, and her eyes went to her plate, fingers fidgeting against the edges of her fork.
What in the devil?
Did they know each other?
Before turning to answer the boy, a sly smile slanted across Bishop’s features.
“Make no mistake, I do not consider Mr. Reeves as my competition.” His tone darkened as he addressed Seth directly, “I can’t help but notice you aren’t drinking. What’s wrong, Captain? Can’t handle your spirits?”
Seth said nothing and took a bite of the pheasant. The rich flavors of the meat tasted like ash in his mouth. Both Cooper siblings were looking at him with a curious expression, eyebrows furrowed, and in that moment they looked like twins.
“I can’t say I disapprove,” Bishop snarled when Seth didn’t give a response. “It wouldn’t do to drop your guard.”
Seth clutched his knife and fork in his hands, the metal pressing indents into his palms. The room had gone silent, and all eyes were upon them now.
Nothing has changed, Seth thought bitterly.
He was still weaker, lesser. Defenseless.
Lord Bolderwood sat still as a stone, watching the events intently.
Gritting his teeth, Seth blazed his eyes into Bishop’s and all he saw was hate.
Blood rushed in his ears. It would take seconds to knock the sneer off of Bishop’s face.
Seven days! Another thought in his head screamed as a third reminded him to focus!
But both men were already rising to their feet.
CLAP!
The sound echoed in the room as Lady Dorchester stood and slammed her hands on the table.
“There are ladies present!”
“No need to stop them, Lady Dorchester.” Duke Kendall’s booming laugh came from the head of the table, and all guests turned to him.
There was a manic gleam in his eyes. “This is a contest between men! Take everything away, and we are all animals. No need to hide it! Embrace it. By all means, be cut-throat, be vile, use your opponents weaknesses against him and destroy each other.”
His eyes lowered, appearing black in the dimming candlelight.
“It will be far more entertaining.”