Chapter Nine
Denham House
St. James Place
Mayfair, England
The Duke of Eggleton was at his wit’s end with the members of his club. The fact that two of the men had come to visit his home regarding Blackhawke’s apparent and current high handedness spoke volumes.
“God.” Wallace rubbed his eyes with his fingers while the Duke of Udolpho as well as the Duke of Forsythe helped themselves to tea. “What a coil.”
It seemed as if Blackhawke had lost his fucking mind and spirited a woman away… somewhere, for he’d practically vanished from London.
He heaved a sigh and bounced his gaze between the two men. “Tell me again the events as you know them.”
Udolpho took a sip of tea. While it was true that all members of the club held the title of duke, not all the “dukes” were real ones. Some, like Udolpho, were honorary and they were able to choose their own titles, but had to stick with a literary character.
With his dark hair and close-clipped beard and dark eyes, he was the epitome of mysterious.
Also, he’d met and married his wife last Christmastide, which made him the most recent member of Club Damnation to marry.
Some could argue that the Duke of Thornton held that honor, but that was essentially a misnomer, for Thorton was already married. He’d merely reconciled with his wife.
“From what I have been able to piece together through various friends throughout the beau monde, four days ago, Blackhawke met with a Miss March in Regent Park. Apparently, she sent him a letter demanding the meeting to call him to account for allegedly killing her fiancé in France.”
One of Wallace’s eyebrows went up. “Did he?” Blackhawke’s history was a long and varied one that was shrouded in secrets. “He took many lives, from what he’s told me.”
“No one seems to know for certain,” Udolpho said as he selected a biscuit from the tea tray. “The meeting was… charged.”
The Duke of Forsythe snorted. “That was an understatement, according to the gossip Lady Jersey has put forth that night.”
Wallace shook his head. “How in the world were they seen by Lady Jersey?” Of all people in London to witness a scandal, it had to be one of the matrons of Almack’s. “She and her party were the last people to see Blackhawke and Miss March?”
“From what I could ascertain,” Forsythe said with a shrug. His light brown hair was arranged in the latest style with a tendency to curl and his eyes appeared a golden brown in certain lights. “And what is more, Blackhawke, himself, told her that he was engaged to Miss March.”
“And then they both disappeared.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.” Udolpho nodded. “Four days ago. No one has seen either of them since. From what I’ve been able to gather, Mr. March is quite worried about his daughter.”
“Of course he is.” Wallace stood then wandered over to the sideboard, where he poured himself a measure of brandy into a cut-crystal glass. “He is the former ambassador to France. Has he consulted Bow Street on her disappearance?”
Forsythe nodded. “I have a friend over there who says the ambassador took a meeting with one of their principal officers two days ago. There has been no word or update.”
After consuming a tiny seed cake, Udolpho dusted his hands together. “I dropped by Blackhawke’s townhouse yesterday thinking that if he was lying low to let the scandal die down, he might be ready to talk.”
Wallace winced as he swallowed a sip of brandy. “Was he?”
“No.” The other man refreshed his teacup. “According to the butler, Blackhawke hasn’t been home in days. If his staff know of his whereabouts, they are well trained and well paid not to tattle.”
“Damn it.” Wallace took another sip of brandy as his brain searched for answers on Blackhawke’s disappearance as well as to think over his state of mind. “Listen, I have a meeting in an hour with Galahad that won’t prove pleasant, so we need to theorize a plan here.”
“How, though?” Udolpho frowned. “Blackhawke used to be a spy. If he doesn’t wish to be found, he won’t.”
“Christ.” Wallace heaved out a sigh. “Well, his country estate is too far off in the Lake District for one of us to just pop in and check on him…”
“Hold.” Forsythe drained his teacup then bounced his gaze between the two of them. “I recall he has a hunting box not far from London. Could he have run to ground there?”
“Perhaps.” Wallace finished the contents of his glass then set it on the tray.
“Good thinking, Forsythe. I’ll have a look through my correspondence to see if I have the address.
Once I find it, one or both of you will need to take a quick outing there to make certain he hasn’t offed himself.
Or conversely, done something horrible to Miss March.
” He shook his head. “Hell, bring her back to Town if you can manage it.” Worry for his friend consumed him more than he wanted to admit.
Udolpho nodded. “I’ll do it.”
“Good. I have duties to my sister. Her health is fragile,” Forsythe said with a frown.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope she improves.” Wallace shoved a hand through his hair. “What the fuck possessed Blackhawke to take her away at all?”
“Who can tell? Life is difficult at times.” Udolpho shrugged. “Is it better to demand he come back to London, or should we physically remove Miss March from his hunting lodge?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Wallace blew out a breath.
“Decide once you discover the situation.” Too much more of this and he’d develop a megrim.
“If he’s in a delicate mental state, trying to remove Miss March might send him over the edge.
He wasn’t all that well when last I spoke with him.
” So then why kidnap her or even tell Lady Jersey they were engaged?
Was he trying to protect her reputation?
That wasn’t in his character, especially if they were already enemies.
Udolpho nodded. “And the former ambassador?”
“I will call on him once you return with information.” He shook his head. “In fact, I’ll have him over for tea later this afternoon after my meeting with Galahad. The poor man must be out of his mind.”
Both the other men stood.
“Get me the address as soon as you find it,” Udolpho asked as he crossed the floor.
“I will.”
Once the two of them left the room, Wallace dropped into a chair with delicate legs, leaned back, and closed his eyes.
What the hell is happening?
A familiar floral scent betrayed the fact that his wife had entered the room. Slowly, he opened his eyes, looked over his shoulder and gave her a tight grin. “I think I’ve lost control of the club, sweeting. These men are behaving much differently than years ago when I first opened it.”
“That’s to be expected, since these are different times. The war has ended. Now men have the luxury of finally thinking about what they’ve been through, whether they fought in the military or not.” She came abreast of his chair and laid a hand on his arm. “Perhaps that’s it.”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “It’s just that they’re all making stupid decisions… or they’ve all gone insane.”
A chuckle escaped her throat, and the lilting sound went straight to his stones. “Well, when men like the ones at Club Damnation make the journey into love, some of them fall fast and some fall hard. Some fight it, and those emotions make them do extreme things. It can look like insanity.”
He blew out a breath. “That doesn’t help.” Though he had felt as if he were going insane a few times during his union with Abigail. “However, I appreciate the insight.” When he looked at her, the silver strands in her blonde hair glimmered in the firelight.
“Don’t overthink it, Eggleton. The best you can do is remind your friends that they are human and there is always someone at the club willing to help if only to listen.”
He rubbed his eyes. “I have told them that, even offered to let them stay here if they need companionship.”
“I know. You have a good heart.” She slipped behind him.
Seconds later, she massaged the muscles in his tense shoulders.
“Then let nature or fate take its course. Your club members are no strangers to gossip, and perhaps men who are larger than life need extreme circumstances to realize they are better with a strong woman at their sides than not.”
Fuck, but her fingers kneading his muscles felt so good. The stress was draining from his person the longer she worked. “And if they don’t?”
“Then you’ll be there to guide them to another path.”
A groan escaped him when she worked at a particularly stubborn knot. “What if Blackhawke is beyond anyone’s help? He was struggling before this.”
“That is the risk of living life, Wallace.” The warmth of her breath skated across his cheek as she leaned close. “Sometimes, you can’t save them all, but you can certainly try. The rest is up to them.”
“Perhaps, but I just feel that I could keep them from such torment if they would only listen.” Needing more of her, he took her hand and guided her to the side of the chair.
With very little effort, he tugged her into his lap so that she sat across it with her legs off to one side.
“I thank God every day that I need not face those things again.” Oh, he and Abigail had had their fair share of problems, but things between them recently had been quite lovely.
“Me, as well. I don’t relish having to go through a courtship again, so don’t make me angry, Eggleton.” She pressed her lips to his, and far too soon the embrace grew heated.
How fortunate was he in that he had a wonderfully strong and quite independent wife? He slipped his arms around her and continued to move over her mouth, seeking out her tongue with his while she worked to loosen his cravat.
“Come upstairs with me,” she said in a low whisper. Desire shadowed her blue eyes. “Bartholomew is on an outing to see the tower menagerie with a tutor. We’re alone and won’t be interrupted.”
Though his shaft was engorged just from kissing, cold disappointment filled his chest. “Damn, I wish I was free, but Galahad is due here in a quarter of an hour. Will you wait until that meeting is over?”
“Of course, for he needs a dressing down.” Slowly, she slipped from his lap. “And what is more, I’ll be waiting in the nude beneath the bedclothes. I’m feeling rather cheeky this afternoon.”
Oh, God.
“I shall be there as soon as I can. Don’t start without me.”
She patted his cheek. “No guarantees, Eggleton. I am in great need.” With a wink, she left the room.
When the Duke of Galahad walked into the drawing room, his cocksure attitude immediately rubbed Wallace the wrong way.
“I was surprised to receive your invitation, Eggleton,” the other man said as he sat in the chair Wallace had vacated earlier. The light from the fire turned his blond hair molten, rendering him much like a golden Adonis of Greek mythology.
“Yes, well, not as surprised as I was to have to issue it.” With a huff, Wallace dropped onto a low sofa near the other man’s location. “This isn’t a social call, I’m afraid.”
“How so?” Galahad rested an ankle on a knee. His title of duke was an honorary one, and outside of a brief history given upon applying for membership at the club a few years ago, Wallace didn’t know all that much about him. “What’s wrong?”
“I called you here to give you a reprimand.”
“For what?”
“How you behaved with the Duchess of Thornton this Valentine’s Day past. You tried to seduce her, wanted to bed her even knowing she was married and that she was trying to reconcile with her husband.” Wallace shook his head. “That crossed an unspoken line between our members, and you know it.”
“It was a bit of fun, and they weren’t together at the time.” All levity fell from his expression. “Thornton shot me, may I remind you. I just took the sling off last week.” As he spoke, he rubbed his shoulder with his opposite hand.
“I won’t say that you deserved it, but you know you did.
And I don’t condone what Thornton did either.
” Of course he would act like an arse. “You were in the wrong. Men who are in Club Damnation do not poach each other’s women.
It’s one of our cardinal rules.” One of his eyebrows rose.
“If you believe you cannot abide by those rules, I will need to revoke your membership and the protection that comes with such.”
Heavy silence fell between them as he stared the younger man down.
“So then, all of you feel the same way?”
Wallace nodded. “We do. There are some things club members—friends—shouldn’t do.”
“I see.” Slowly, Galahad rose to his feet. “Is it because I’m not a genuine duke that you thought to call me out?”
“That has nothing to do with it. There are many men at the club who are honorary dukes. However, your behavior has everything to do with it.”
Galahad sniffed. “What can I say? You gathered together a group of men who aren’t proper, who don’t fit into society, who are morally gray. This is expected, and no lasting harm was done.”
“Except Thornton still holds a grudge. The next man you antagonize might just kill you.” Wallace shook his head.
“I’m not asking you to become a paragon of the ton, but I am asking you to be more mindful.
Women linked to men in this club are forbidden, and if they’re married, even more so. Do you understand?”
“Fine. I see how it is.” The other man strode to the door. “I’ll make certain my unwanted presence doesn’t darken the door to your precious club more than once a month. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to yet this evening.”
“Well, fuck.” Wallace blew out a breath once Galahad stormed from the room and his bootfalls echoed on the stairs.
Within the bowels of the townhouse, the faint echo of the front door slamming reached his ears.
“That man is going to cause more trouble than he’s worth.
I’ll wager everything on it, and he’ll come crawling back, pleading for me to help. ”
And of course he would, because all those men were considered family. Because of that, no one was left out in the cold.
Damn it all to hell.