Chapter Twenty-Eight
James
He stands shoulder to shoulder with Albert and Lord Havenfort, the three of them clapping vigorously. The gavel has just come
down. The Medical Act has passed the Lords, and will move on to the Commons.
A surge of true pride flows through James’ veins. He, James, Viscount Demeroven, has done good for the world, and his name
shall forever live on that docket. It’s a heady feeling.
James shuffles along, following Albert out of the hall as the lords begin to file out. He finds himself nodding to various
other lords on their side of the aisle. They smile, some tip their hats, some shout greetings to him, Albert, and Lord Havenfort.
He doesn’t even pay attention to the other side, grumbling about government overreach.
Instead, he focuses on the blue sky as they pour out of St.Stephen’s, letting himself enjoy the feeling of accomplishment.
It’s one he plans to become familiar with in the next few years. He’s actually itching to pick Lord Havenfort’s brain about
what bills he thinks will be on the docket for the next session. He’s eager to continue this work.
He’s eager to keep building the life he’s finally taking as his own.
“I cannot thank you boys—you men—enough for your help this season,” Lord Havenfort says, pulling them both out of the fray to linger at the side of the building.
James can’t help but smile bashfully while Albert outright grins. Lord Havenfort rummages in his top pocket and retrieves
two fat envelopes. He thrusts them at Albert and James, who riffle through them. James feels his jaw drop.
“Lord Havenfort, this is—” he starts, staring down at the packet of bills.
“It’s Uncle Dashiell, James,” Lord Havenfort says. James looks up to meet his eyes in surprise. “And I want you and Albert
to spend this madly at Cowes. Spoil the girls, and Bobby, and have the time of your lives. Then we’ll all reconvene and plan
out how we’re going to divvy up the shooting season.”
James tries to wrap his mind around uncle while Albert enthusiastically agrees for both of them, as if nothing at all has happened, as if they’re still friends. It’s
like there’s something molten creeping through his chest. An unfamiliar feeling that pricks at James’ eyes and requires a
lot of blinking.
“I’m proud of you both, and look forward to working with you for years to come,” Lord Havenfort says. “You’ve done a great
honor to your houses.”
James finds he would do just about anything to see his uncle look this happy again. How strange. “Thank you,” he manages to say around a pleasant tightness in his throat.
“Give Aunt Cordelia our love,” Albert says, slinging an arm around James’ shoulders.
James hesitates, surprised, but leans cautiously into his side, smiling as Lord Havenfort winks at them and then marches off,
whistling, lost in a sea of parliamentary top hats and coattails.
“Damn good show,” Albert says, squeezing James once before releasing him to thumb through his envelope. “Jesus. We should pass bills more often. We could pay for the trip twice with mine.”
“God, I don’t even want to count,” James hears himself say, overwhelmed by that warm, gooey feeling in his chest.
“How are you planning to get to Cowes?” Albert asks, bringing James’ gaze up from the obscene envelope of pounds in his hands.
“I’ve got a rail ticket to get there for the second heat on opening day,” James says, as if he hasn’t been rattling off the
date and time all week.
“You should come with us the day ahead.”
James stares at him, shocked and unsure, but Albert simply smiles at him. Almost a little sadly, like Gwen did last week.
Like—like he understands, and still wants James to come, even though he—
“Uncle Dashiell booked us all a private car and rooms to sleep in before we catch the first ferry.”
“All?” James asks, that gooey warmth developing claws in his chest.
“Gwen, Beth, Meredith, Bobby, me, and you, if you want a seat. The girls would love it.”
James hesitates. Two weeks of tossing and turning, of desperately trying to figure out how to make that last piece of his
life—the most important one that comes with a four-letter word and soppy kisses and amazing sex—fit in with the rest of the
world he’s building for himself. He hasn’t figured it out yet.
“Bobby would probably love it too,” Albert continues.
James opens his mouth, tongue feeling swollen around too many words, then someone crashes into him from behind.
“Oi, watch it,” Albert says.
James stands up straight and comes face-to-face with Raverson, glaring menacingly down at him. Up close, James can see he’s lost half a stone, his suit ill-fitting and eyes a little manic. James wants to sink into the ground, but forces himself to stand tall, like Albert, who takes one look between them and pulls himself up to his full height.
“It’s just one bill. There’ll be others,” Albert says, reading the most plausible reason into Raverson’s aggression.
“Not like that one,” Raverson spits.
James blinks. He wasn’t— “What, did you bet on the vote?”
Albert nudges him, but the words are out, and the look on Raverson’s face, sour and simmering, confirms it. “You cost me nearly
two thousand pounds,” Raverson says, his voice low but deeply threatening.
Even Albert gapes at that. “How on earth is your gambling my fault?” James wonders.
“I had a lot riding on this vote. And now you’ll need to help me pay for it.”
“We’re hardly going to reimburse you for a poor bet,” Albert says, surreptitiously plucking the envelope from James’ hand
behind his back and stuffing that, and his own, into his pockets while Raverson glares at James.
“Ah, but see, Demeroven’s the reason I was trying other avenues .”
James gapes. “Excuse me?”
“You told me to give up my schoolyard games, and look where it’s gotten me.”
“That is hardly—”
“So now I’m coming back for our arrangement. Or am I going to your daddy?” he asks James.
“My stepfather is no longer in the city,” James says, superimposing his stepfather’s face over Raverson’s. He stood up to
Stepfather. He can stand up to this pale facsimile of Raverson now. “And I don’t owe you a thing.”
“You’ll pay. You and Mason, or it’ll be front-page news the day after Cowes,” Raverson says, stepping toward James.
James forces himself to stay still, which puts them chest-to-chest, Raverson’s rank breath wafting over his face. He can’t
believe this is the same man who intimidated him in school, who’s been blackmailing him, and Lord Havenfort, and Bobby all
season; he’s falling apart.
“There’s nothing to print,” James insists, forcing all the bravado he has through the painful words. Albert moves in, all
three of them too close and too conspicuous.
“Oh, just because you’re playing cool now doesn’t mean my evidence is any less valid,” Raverson jeers. “So I think you’ll
give me what I want.”
“And if I don’t?” James asks, ignoring the clench of grief in his stomach.
If Raverson is going to come after them whether they’re together or not...
“Then maybe the two of you can share a cell at Newgate while I get fat on your uncle’s money,” Raverson says tightly.
“And that will fix your money problems, two thousand pounds? You don’t get bruises like that”—Albert jabs Raverson quickly
in the ribs, and the man flinches—“over just two thousand. What’s your plan once you’ve run us dry, hmm?”
“You’re only the first,” Raverson says, rubbing at his ribs and stepping back from them, out of range of Albert’s hands. “Once
I collect on all my scores, I’ll be the richest of all of you. They laughed at me at school,” he says, looking back at James.
“The second son, the never-ran. You thought I was small, but I’m not. I’ve gone bigger than you could have ever dreamed, and
I’ll have the last laugh.”
“And when someone finally comes for you?” James wonders, agog at who Raverson has become. He knew he was vile, but he never expected this .
“I’ll have so much power no one will ever say a word about me,” Raverson says, conviction, vitriol, and delusion heavy in
his voice. “Have your purse strings wide open on the last day of Cowes, or prepare to get comfortable in prison.”
He turns on his heel and lurches off, leaving James and Albert standing by the wall as the street slowly empties. They haven’t
attracted too much attention, outside of the curious looks from a few flower sellers on the street and the waiting coachmen.
“Well, now you’ll have to come with us to Cowes, won’t you? We’ll need to come up with a plan.”
James turns slowly to Albert, apologies warring in his chest, tripping up his throat. “If I’d just told Bobby before—if I’d
gone to your uncle, our uncle, maybe—”
Albert reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. “Raverson being a deplorable, scheming pissant isn’t your fault. You, me, Bobby,
and the girls, we’ll figure this out at Cowes. Meredith loves a challenge, and Beth and Gwen will die for the chance to put
him in his place.”
“They don’t even know him,” James argues, his throat tight all over again.
“He’s hurting two of ours, that’s all they need to know. More than that, though,” Albert says seriously, taking James’ other
shoulder in hand so they’re staring at each other head-on. “If I don’t report back to Lady Harrington and promise her I showed
you a great time in Cowes, she’ll have my hide. I can’t let my mother-in-law be my death, it would be too pathetic.”
James lets out a startled laugh, something unknown letting go in his chest. “What?”
Albert turns them, wrapping his arm back over James’ shoulders to lead him to the hired coaches. “She was so worried you would be out of your mind with embarrassment, and she couldn’t tease it out of you.”
“She wasn’t... upset?” he asks, the feelings of fear and panic and mortification he tamped down hard on his horse ride
back from the country roaring in his stomach.
Albert opens the door for the first hired coach, gesturing for James to hop inside. James goes, surprised when Albert gives
the driver the address for the Foundling Hospital.
“We’re picking up Gwen; she took a shift,” Albert explains as he swings inside and closes the door. “And no, Lady Harrington
was only upset she interrupted you and that you were upset.”
“We shouldn’t have been—” James breaks off, unsure of how to finish the sentence in a gentlemanly fashion.
“She went snooping. Serves her right,” Albert says easily. James gapes across the carriage at him and Albert laughs. “Honestly,
she’s seen worse with me and Meredith—a story for another time,” he says. James feels his eyes widen. “Suffice it to say,
she wants you to have fun for the rest of the season, and made it my responsibility. So you’ll come to Cowes with us.”
James can do no more than nod, watching as Albert smiles and then looks contentedly out the window. Instead of yelling, instead
of demanding answers about Raverson and his bribes, instead of taking James to task for running away, he’s just... protecting
him.
That warm, soppy feeling takes over again and James slumps into the hard seat behind him, feeling dazed. Raverson’s out for
blood, but all Albert seems to care about is that James is... happy. Even after he ran out on Bobby, on all of them...
How can anyone ever forgive him? How can he ever forgive himself?
He has a swirling mix of grief and a massive bubble of unease in his stomach. Raverson’s made it very clear he’s coming after them whether James and Bobby are apart or together. No amount of subterfuge or even distance is going to stop him. Nor is it ever going to stop the world.
Bobby or not, society doesn’t want James as he is. Will never want him as he is, no matter how much he pretends. He can be the picture-perfect viscount, but
they’re going to keep hating who he is at his core—all of them small-minded, and frightened, and prejudiced.
Except for Albert. And Gwen. And Beth, and Meredith, and hell, even Lady Harrington, it seems. His aunt, his uncle. And...
Bobby.
The weeks of regret, of pain, of grief—it was all for nothing. Instead of allowing himself and Bobby to face Raverson united,
happy, whole—James made them both suffer, horribly.
They can’t change the world, but maybe they can face it together. All of them can face it together. He needs to make things
right, right now.
He opens his mouth, unsure but willing to start , and then they pull up to the front of the Foundling Hospital. He follows Albert’s gaze out the window to where Gwen is crouched
at the base of one of the arches, talking to a little girl holding a teddy bear, lip caught between her teeth. The little
girl is a tad gaunt, but wearing a fresh dress and cap.
Albert hops out to help Gwen up and James can just hear Gwen’s murmured, “I promise, Beth and I will be back in a week to
play with you.”
The girl’s eyes water. She can’t be much older than two. Gwen squeezes her shoulders and then stands as a woman steps forward to take the girl’s hand. Gwen waves to them both and then lets Albert help her into the carriage. She wipes at her eyes with her apron as Albert swings back into the coach and settles beside her.
Throat tight, James taps the ceiling and they lurch off, giving Gwen a moment to compose herself.
“Sorry,” she says, laughing a little. “She’s just too sweet.”
“Lady Ashmond will take care of her,” Albert promises.
“I know. She’s very good with them, surprisingly,” Gwen agrees. “You know, she and Thomas Parker are working on a bit of a
project,” she adds, looking across at James.
That pulls him from his panic. “How on earth do they know each other?”
“Oh, he’s been a guest at a few of her salons,” Gwen says with the most casual shrug. “She says Parker has promised to introduce
her to some enterprising young men for her entrepreneurship program. I assume you are one of those young men?”
“I guess,” James agrees slowly. “I’ll have to call on him after Cowes.”
“Good. Lady Ashmond’s most excited about it. But tell me, did it pass?”
“What?” James asks, mind stalled on Thomas Parker and Lady Ashmond and Gwen’s casual mention of the young men of the D’Vere
clientele. All that time spent trying to keep his personal life separate from the ton, and his worlds have seemingly collided
without him even knowing. What a fool he’s been.
“It did!” Albert exclaims, grinning as Gwen whoops.
“Father must be pleased,” Gwen says happily.
“Oh, he was,” Albert says, pulling out the envelopes and handing James’ back to him.
He can’t help but smile as Gwen whistles. “We’ll have to make the most of the week,” James says, exchanging a quick glance with Albert.
No need to mar a good afternoon with talk of blackmail, at least not more than once.
“Other than Lady Ashmond’s grand plans, you’re still enjoying the work?” James asks, deciding he’ll have to make amends in
gestures rather than apologies, for now.
“Oh, it’s wonderful. I know it was Beth’s idea, but I’ve really grown to love it. It’s very rewarding. I wish I could take
them all home, honestly,” Gwen adds, her smile dimming a little.
“Well, maybe with the passage of the Medical Act, there will be fewer orphans,” James says encouragingly. “And maybe we can
get a few more doctors on staff at the hospital to help with the deliveries that do make it to the hospital, so fewer mothers
die there too.”
“I’d like that,” Gwen says. “You have lists?”
“Absolutely. When we’re back, you and I can go through them, and we can propose a few hires?”
Gwen considers him for a beat. “Yes. That would be wonderful.” There’s something approving in her gaze. He feels like maybe
he’s passed some kind of test. “Now. Cowes. What are our plans?”
“Well, we’ll watch the heats, of course,” Albert says. “And I know you were dying to get out on one of the boats. I figure
among us”—he gestures to James—“we must know someone who could captain for us.”
“I’d need a good first mate, but I could captain,” James finds himself saying.
“That’s right!” Gwen exclaims, looking at him expectantly.
James can’t help but smile back. “Would you like to learn?”
“Yes!” Gwen nearly shrieks, launching herself across the carriage to throw her arms around him. It makes the whole carriage rock and James feels his flush crawl down his chest and up to his hairline as she sits back. “No one would ever let me. I’m so excited.”
“She’s your monster now,” Albert says, laughing.
But that’s just fine with James. Despite maritime superstition, he can’t think of anyone with as much tenacity as Gwen. She’ll
make an excellent first mate. “It’s a deal.”
“Fabulous,” Gwen says, the carriage lurching to a stop as they pull up in front of the Havenfort townhouse. “Bring me an extra
frock coat and linen pants. I want to be able to move.”
“We’ll discuss it,” Albert says as James impulsively starts to agree.
Gwen rolls her eyes and hops out without any assistance. “See you tomorrow,” she says excitedly before running up her front
steps.
“We’re doomed,” Albert says.
James shrugs. “It made her happy.”
“Yes, it did,” Albert agrees, eyeing him as the carriage makes its way around the square toward the Mason townhouse.
James stares out the window, his good cheer rapidly deteriorating in Gwen’s absence.
“Would you care to stay for dinner, to celebrate?” Albie asks as they stop outside his townhouse.
No matter how much he wants to run through Albert’s house to find Bobby, shove him up against a wall, and kiss him until every
apology and regret he has dissolves against his hot mouth... he needs to do this right, not hastily for the sake of haste.
Bobby deserves more than a half-baked apology.
“No, thank you,” James forces out. “I’ll join you tomorrow. Need to pack, and—” He pauses, thinking.
Albert opens the door, looking back at him, giving him the choice. It’s not snogging Bobby senseless, but telling Albert would be something, at least.
“I need some time to make a proper apology.”
Albert considers him for a long moment. “You’re going to be good to him, make him happy?” he asks, his voice low and just
a hint dangerous.
James doesn’t know quite how he’s going to do it, but like standing up to his stepfather, the choice is finally, ultimately,
easy. “Yes,” James says, his chest full. “Yes, I will.”
He’s not going to let anyone, least of all Raverson, take away his chance at true happiness, love, and family. Not again.