Chapter 5
Chapter Five
The next morning was a busy one. Leander was used to having guests, of course. Anthony and his young son Benjamin were at his estate more often than not, and he frequently had to entertain various peers as part of his duties - but never before had he held a party quite like this one.
The whole thing had actually been Anthony’s idea. On Leander’s thirtieth birthday, they’d celebrated by going to the club and having cigars, and Anthony had commented on how dull it was.
“Come on, Leander,” he’d said, gesturing around at the near-empty club. “Look at this. You’re thirty today! You could be hosting some grand event with all of Society begging to attend, and instead you’re stuck here with just me and these cigars.”
“I prefer it that way,” Leander had insisted. “It’s less complicated.”
“And much less fun. It’s such a waste, really. You’ve access to more money than half of England put together, and a guest list made up of the other half. Think of the parties you could throw!”
“I don’t need parties,” he’d laughed. “This is enough for me.”
“It shouldn’t be. You need to live a little,” Anthony had chided him. “Come on. Let me organize something for your birthday.”
“This is something. We’re out, aren’t we?”
“This does not count. I mean something proper.”
“Fine. I’ll host one ball this Season, if it’ll stop your complaints. Just don’t announce that it’s for my birthday. I don’t want gifts,” Leander had replied jokingly, hoping that would be the end of it.
Naturally, with Anthony’s involvement, ‘one ball’ had turned into a week-long event involving games, events, and outings, with dances every evening and over a hundred guests staying at the estate.
His best friend was a force of nature when it came to having fun, and although he’d resisted it at first, in the end, Leander found it was easier to just be swept up in the whirlwind and allow Anthony to do what he pleased.
So as a result, the Pridewell estate was full to bursting with people from all over London who had come to partake in the first big event of the Season.
Leander knew most of them were curious about the rake Duke, who never cared about what Society rumored about him, and he preferred to keep it that way, mostly dodging conversations and making excuses to be elsewhere all of yesterday evening.
The only person’s company that he needed was Anthony’s.
He had been watching for the Norish girls specifically.
When the carriage incident had happened — that broken-down cab blocking the road, the elder Miss Norish squaring up to him on the cobblestones with more nerve than sense — something had clicked into place immediately.
He had known their name was on the list, of course.
He would spot that name a mile away. But seeing them there in person, practically destitute, their father's disgrace already splashed across the front page of the Express — the shape of an opportunity had formed in his mind before she had even finished arguing with him.
Lord Norish had many crimes to answer for.
And his daughters, entirely without knowing it, had just handed Leander the means to collect.
He replayed his conversation with the elder, Miss Julia Norish.
There was something different about her.
Nobody ever spoke back to him the way she had, right there in the street in public.
No woman had ever rejected him like that before, either.
He wasn’t used to it, and even though his pride was hurt, it left him with an overwhelming need to win her over completely.
He found the line of thought both surprising and not at all unpleasant.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” came his friend’s voice from the door. “Scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon again? You know there’s a whole buffet downstairs, right?”
Leander shrugged. “I like Mrs. Gwen’s eggs on toast. What can I say?”
“If you were any more a creature of habit, you’d be a monk,” Anthony declared, sitting down across from him and sipping a cup of tea. “Sorry, that joke sounded a lot funnier in my head. You know most of your guests have been up for hours already, right?”
“They’re more your guests than mine, if we’re being honest about it,” Leander reminded him. “Why don’t you entertain them?”
“Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Want to talk about it?” Anthony inquired.
Leander grinned. “The opposite, actually. I’ve finally got a lead.”
“A lead on what?”
“Lord Norish.”
“Don’t tell me that’s why you invited those girls.” Anthony rolled his eyes. “I thought you were just being kind. Was it all part of some scheme?”
“A happy accident, actually. Lady Bendon sent a letter saying that she would be arriving with her nieces, the Norish ladies, who were on the list anyway. As it turns out, Norish has left his daughters in quite a mess, so with a little luck, I might be able to use that to flush him out of hiding,” the Duke explained.
“Why do you care so much?” Anthony queried, his piercing blue eyes searching Leander. “I’ve never known you to care about anything in your life except for your friends and family, and Norish is neither.”
“He took something important,” Leander said.
Anthony’s eyes stayed on him, patient and unhurried in the way of a man who had known him long enough not to be deflected easily. Leander looked away.
The truth would have taken thirty seconds to say it — to tell Anthony exactly what Norish had taken, exactly how far back it went, exactly what it had cost him.
Anthony, of all people, would understand.
His friend would probably have been furious on his behalf, which was precisely the problem.
Because fury led to questions, and questions led to details, and details led to the part of the story that Leander had never told anyone.
The part that reflected poorly not only on Norish alone but on himself.
On a decision he had made when he was young enough to be foolish and old enough to know better.
He had carried it this long. He could carry it a little further.
"It doesn't matter now," he said, and reached for his glass. "What matters is that I intend to get it back."
Anthony looked at him for a moment longer than was comfortable. Then, he sighed. “This is about that watch, isn’t it?”
Leander refused to answer, focusing instead on his plate.
Anthony ran a hand over his face. His previously bright expression was gone.
He looked tired, like he’d suddenly aged ten years.
“Leander. What happened to Henry was- I mean, I was there too. Nobody should have to die so young. But he was never a healthy man, and he knew that since he was a child. You have to stop looking for someone to blame and move on with your life. You know that’s what Henry would tell you to do. ”
“It’s not about blame,” the Duke argued, his hand curling into a fist. “That spineless, grubby leech has the only thing in the world that Henry cared about, and for his sake, I need to get it back.”
“Henry cared about more than just that heirloom,” Anthony said softly, laying a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “He cared about us, too.”
“So what kind of person does that make me, if I fail him now that he’s gone?” Leander met Anthony’s sad gaze. “I owe him this, Anthony. After everything Henry did for me, I can’t let him down.”
Anthony nodded. “Just don’t forget to be happy in the meantime, will you? Henry didn’t raise, stand by your side, so you could live your life in the past.”
He clapped Leander on the shoulder and stood. “Anyway, I’m going downstairs. Don’t tarry up here too long. We’ve got a group of gentlemen headed out to the shooting grounds soon and another contingent of guests who returned from Calais yesterday that should be arriving before the ball tonight.”
“There’s more?”
“When it comes to young ladies in pretty dresses, more is never enough, old friend.”
“I thought you’d given up being a rake since Benjamin arrived.”
Anthony shrugged and winked. “There’s no harm in just admiring.”
Leander looked down at his breakfast and sighed. This was going to be an exceedingly long week.
Meanwhile, downstairs with the rest of the guests, Julia and Poppy were taking their breakfast as well.
Poppy had not stopped talking about Lord Blackwell since they had parted ways last night; how sweet he was, how kind, how she’d found his small missteps and stricken apologies during the dances utterly endearing.
They were a good match, really, Julia surmised.
Although Lord Blackwell wasn’t the most handsome man in the room, or the best dressed, or the richest, he was clearly extremely well-mannered and gentle, and he had taken a real shine to her sister.
She hoped that whatever nastiness might result from Miss Burbank could be cleared up soon, so that Blackwell might make Poppy an offer.
If he did, she wouldn’t have to speak to the Duke of Pridewell ever again. She wondered why that thought brought her a wave of relief followed by a twinge of disappointment.
“Are you even listening to me, Julia?” Poppy complained as she sipped her tea.
“Sorry, Poppy, I must have missed that last part.”
“I was wondering if you think Lord Blackwell will ask me to dance again tonight. I do hope so.”
“I’m sure he will.” Julia smiled, her mind still on the Duke.
Poppy noticed and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You seem distracted. Is there something you aren’t telling me?”
“What? No.” Julia realized she’d answered just a little too quickly. “I mean- what would I have to hide from you, dear Poppy?”
“Hmm. So you didn’t meet anyone interesting last night while I was busy dancing?” she pressed.
“I spent most of the time talking to Aunt Violet,” Julia said with complete honesty. After her meeting with the Duke, she’d stuck close by her aunt’s side all evening for safety, lest he make good on his promise to find her and push her for an answer to his offer.