Chapter Nineteen #2
“My point, Fletcher, is that you always come to my rescue and you always defend me, and I think those are admirable traits in a husband. And when I kiss you, I feel all…hot and bothered. Kissing Daniel is cold, nothing like the heat I feel with you.”
Fletcher hugged Louisa closer. “Never speak of kissing Daniel again.”
“Are you jealous?”
“Unspeakably.”
Louisa laughed softly and put her arms around Fletcher’s torso.
“I want you to know,” Fletcher said, “that money is no object. There are a lot of things I will do to make sure you marry me instead of Rotherfeld. I’d pay a fortune. I’d fight a duel. Hell, I’d fight a war.”
That warmed Louisa. She knew Fletcher was not kidding because he’d been her protector and defender for years. “Thank you. Let us hope that it does not come to that.”
“What if he says no?” Fletcher asked, stroking her hair. “If I offer him the money and he won’t sell? It may come to a war. I don’t run very fast or punch very hard, but I’m a pretty good shot.”
“Please do not commit a crime on my behalf. I can’t imagine it will come to that.
Can it really be worth it to keep me captive?
Surely he can find some desperate heiress to be his wife.
I’d far prefer some kind of civil agreement before it escalates to violence.
Because you may be a good shot, but it’s possible Daniel is, too. ”
“He may not like getting jilted right before the wedding that he announced so publicly.”
“Do you see how he’s been laying this trap?
” Louisa pulled away from Fletcher so she could look at his face.
“He announced the engagement publicly to discourage me from ending it, because everyone at the Rutherford ball, who is basically everyone who matters, knows about it. He made the deal with my father so my father wouldn’t let me out of it. But I won’t be trapped.”
“No. I daresay you’d rescue yourself if you could.”
“I’ll say no at the altar if it comes to that. I won’t marry him. Or I’ll run off to the Continent. I have a little money. How much can a ticket to France cost?”
Fletcher laughed softly. “Take me with you to France, if that is the case.”
“I thought you wanted to do this right. You didn’t want to elope.”
“I don’t, but we might get desperate. Let us exhaust all the other options before we re-stage Waterloo and have to raise armies to end it.”
Louisa laughed. “This whole situation is absurd.”
“I know.” Fletcher reached over and pushed a strand of hair behind Louisa’s hair.
“We will figure it out, okay? I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve that I hope will work.
I was kidding about needing to raise armies, but I am just saying, if that’s what it takes, when all other options are exhausted, I’ll do it. ”
“Thank you, Fletcher. I love you.”
He kissed her forehead. “I love you, too.”
* * *
Fletcher found Rotherfeld at one of the lesser gentlemen’s clubs.
It took most of a day of investigating where Rotherfeld had memberships before he made this discovery.
The man couldn’t have just spent his evenings at White’s; that would have been too easy.
And Rotherfeld had apparently been making the rounds—his regular club was still under renovation—so it had been a real challenge to track him down.
Fletcher finally got a break when one of Beresford’s friends happened to know where Rotherfeld had been spending his evenings and on which nights all season.
On Tuesdays, Rotherfeld had landed at this particular establishment, which seemed run down and the sort of place where one did not want to touch anything.
Lark had warned him that this particular club was known to harbor men who were interested in other men, although the membership was not that exclusively.
It seemed to be a club mainly for men who wanted discretion, and there were a few women about, too, although Fletcher suspected they were paid for.
Feeling out of his depths, Fletcher had begged Lark to come with him, so now they were walking around a dimly lit room.
Fletcher hated every part of it. The space made his skin crawl, although he could not put a finger on why.
Perhaps it was because Lord Whitney was holding court in the club’s main room; Whitney was known to use his power and money to get very young women into bed with him.
No respectable peer would have anything to do with him, but apparently Baron Dabney, an extremely wealthy man with a questionable reputation, had no compunction about laughing and smoking cigars with the man.
The goal now was to get in and out as quickly as possible. Why was Rotherfeld here? To find other men to bed? To engage in other nefarious doings?
“So what is your plan exactly?” Lark asked.
“If I ever had one beyond forcing Rotherfeld to talk to me, it has fled my mind. You don’t frequent this place, do you?”
“No. I would prefer not to know what my peers get up to in their spare time.”
Fletcher had to laugh at that. “You lie. You’re single-handedly keeping the scandal sheets in business.”
“All right, I like gossip, but I don’t need to see it with my own eyes.”
The only saving grace was that the inside of this club was so dimly lit and smoky that it was difficult to see much.
So now Fletcher peered through the cigar smoke and was glad to have found Rotherfeld sitting in a corner, speaking with a young man.
Fletcher held Lark back to observe them for a few moments.
Rotherfeld had his hand on the young man’s thigh, and then he leaned forward to…
either whisper in the man’s ear or nip at his chin, it was hard to tell from this angle.
But the placement of Rotherfeld’s hand was a giveaway.
Then Rotherfeld moved, briefly rested his lips against the man’s, and leaned away slightly.
Fletcher’s first instinct was to look away because he had no business looking upon so intimate a moment, except now he had unambiguous proof about Rotherfeld’s proclivities.
“That’s Epperson’s son,” said Lark, gesturing toward the young man.
“You know unsavory things about him, don’t you?”
Lark pressed a hand to his chest, clearly offended. “Not first-hand. I’ve been besotted with a certain marquess for several years now, so I do not pursue other men, and anyway, the younger Epperson is barely out of short pants. What do you take me for?”
“He’s, what, twenty years old? What do you think?”
“If that. Too baby-faced for my tastes. Apparently not for Rotherfeld’s, though.”
Anthony suddenly appeared. “Lark, my darling friend, this place is a scandal.”
Fletcher rolled his eyes. Lark had invited Beresford to tag along, apparently because as soon as Lark mentioned he would be coming to this club tonight, Beresford had expressed interest. “Curiosity,” Anthony had insisted.
Lark glared at Anthony. “If you so much as look at any of the other men here tonight…”
Anthony laughed and threw an arm around Lark. “No need for jealousy. You have nothing to worry about. This place reeks of desperation.”
“And spilled whisky,” Fletcher said. “What would possess someone of Rotherfeld’s stature to join such a club.”
Anthony stepped away from Lark. “I’d think that would be obvious. To cater to his own sexual desires since he won’t find them at home.”
The “with Louisa” was implied.
Fletcher cursed.
“My, my. Language.” Anthony grinned. “How much do you want to punch him right now?”
“A lot.”
“Here, Lark and I will distract Young Master Epperson while you talk to Rotherfeld. I implore you to try to avoid dragging him to pistols at dawn.”
“I’m a better shot than he is,” said Fletcher, not knowing if it was true.
“Oh, I have no doubt. But I have no intention of getting up early enough to be your second.”
Fletcher blew out a breath. He let Lark and Anthony drag Epperson off, and Fletcher slipped into the empty chair. He perched on the edge of it, wanting to touch the fabric of the chair as little as possible.
Rotherfeld looked startled. “Greystone.”
“I suppose you know why I am here,” said Fletcher.
“Lady Louisa. Did you seek me out here?”
“Much to my chagrin. I can’t wait to leave.
” Fletcher struggled to remember what he intended to say.
This whole situation made him uncomfortable, but for Louisa, he would push past every qualm he had about it.
“But Louisa has enlisted my help. So I’ll appeal to you at this level.
She feels you’ve trapped her in a marriage she doesn’t want.
And if you go through with the wedding, that resentment will only grow with time.
Is that truly what you want? Surely there’s someone else you can trick into marrying you. ”
“She feels trapped?”
Fletcher didn’t believe Rotherfeld’s disbelief for one minute.
Rotherfeld had, after all, engineered the trap.
He made a show of rolling his eyes. “Louisa is a lot smarter than you gave her credit for. She knows why you announced the engagement at a ball. She knows why you made the deal with her father. And she’s furious because she doesn’t feel like you listened to her. ”
“So she sent you?” Rotherfeld’s voice dripped with disdain. “You are not but the little dog at her feet hoping she’ll drop some scrap of food on the floor. You are trying to steal my fiancée from me, so you’re putting ideas in her head and—”
“I believe your presence here only emphasizes the pile of lies you were about to push toward me. I’m not planting ideas in her head. I told her the truth. I saw you caress that young man.”
Fletcher regretted coming here tonight. He wished they could have this conversation in the light of day and not in a seedy club.
But he’d tried Rotherfeld’s home during regular calling hours and was told by the butler that he was not home.
Given the way the sand was draining out of the hourglass, Fletcher had instead launched this ridiculous crusade to find wherever Rotherfeld was in the city tonight.
Everything about this situation now felt uncomfortable, unclean, and unsafe.
But Fletcher persisted for Louisa’s sake.
He considered his approach. He leaned forward.
“I know who and what you are. I know why you want to marry Louisa, but she deserves more than being trapped into a marriage. She’s a passionate woman with her own wants and desires, and she’s smarter than you’ll ever be.
As a woman, she may be powerless, but I’m not. ”
“She sent you to do her dirty work.”
Rotherfeld was really angering Fletcher now. “No. She confronted you herself first and you didn’t listen. So let me make this clear. I’m marrying Louisa. You will not be. And there’s a lot I’m prepared to do to make sure that happens.”
“Such as?”
“Lord Petty is like a second father to me, and I will not allow his financial ruin.”
That seemed to take Rotherfeld by surprise. “Are you offering me some kind of remuneration?”
Fletcher hesitated. Buying the farm was his last card. But he said, “Not yet. I was hoping we could reach some kind of settlement. But if buying you out is what it takes, it’s not off the table.”
“Let me think on it.”
“You don’t have much time. The wedding is due to occur in a number of days.”
“You don’t think I realize that?” Rotherfeld huffed.
A headache was starting to bloom at Fletcher’s temples.
He looked around. This place really was quite sordid, only a gentlemen’s club insofar as Fletcher recognized several men who could be considered gentlemen.
Probably he was not doing his own reputation much good by sitting here and talking to Rotherfeld.
Lark and Anthony looked like they were about to eat young Epperson for lunch, though.
“Think fast,” Fletcher said, standing. “My offer is limited. As we speak, I have my men looking into ways around the predicament you’ve put the Petty family in.
” Fletcher felt good about that. He hadn’t made a promise, and Rotherfeld likely didn’t know that Fletcher had managed to discover the true value of the farm.
He might settle for less than its full value.
And if not, well, Fletcher could afford to bail out Lord Petty if he made some easy sacrifices.
He didn’t care about a dowry or any of that. He just wanted Louisa.
“You’re leaving? You come in here and make accusations and dangle money and leave?”
“I’ve said my piece, and the cigar smoke here is heavy enough to choke on, so if you don’t mind, I intend to inhale some less thick air outside. If you’re interested in my offer, I will be at home with my man of business during regular calling hours tomorrow.” He handed Rotherfeld a card.
“All right.”
“Louisa won’t marry you. Let’s find a way out of this that will cause the least stir.”
“It may already be too late for that.”
Fletcher nodded. “The blame for which I put entirely on you.”
Fletcher turned on his heel and walked toward the door. He grabbed Lark by the collar on the way.
“Say good-bye to your little toy, Anthony,” Lark said as he was being dragged away.
“Enchantée, monsieur,” said Anthony. “But, alas, my darling friend has insisted we leave. Rotherfeld is available again, but I’ve heard he has a small member, so proceed accordingly.”
As they walked outside, Lark said, “You’ve heard no such thing.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The thing you said about Rotherfeld.”
“About his small member? No, I made that up. But would it really be so bad if that rumor spread?”
“I hope it spreads like a persistent rash,” said Fletcher.