Chapter Thirty-One
Bobby
“Lord Demeroven, dearest, thank you. I was ever so parched,” Gwen simpers, batting her lashes beneath her frankly absurd lace
bonnet and swishing her bright lilac skirts.
She accepts the proffered champagne from James and immediately grabs his arm, leaning coquettishly into him. Bobby’s never
seen Gwen in such a loud outfit by choice, but she’s taking their challenge seriously. Perhaps too seriously, he thinks, as
James looks woefully over his shoulder in his formal linen suit. Gwen yanks him away, going on about china patterns, and Bobby
just shrugs helplessly.
James’ look turns into a glare and Bobby snorts. Beth takes her drink from him and giggles. He meets her eyes and they share
a conspiratorial smile.
“You do know they’re winning,” she says, linking her arm with his. They amble behind Gwen and James, following them toward
Meredith and Albie’s picnic blanket.
“I can be obnoxious,” he offers, sipping his champagne as they stare out across the water.
“We can cede today to them. They need to bond,” Beth says easily, looking up at him beneath her own, slightly smaller bonnet.
Her green skirt and blouse are lovely, and she looks positively delighted to be on his arm. They’re not doing so poorly them selves. He raises his glass toward a few acquaintances he thinks were in Albie’s year at Oxford. They’re all watching them from their picnic blankets.
The whole ton of Cowes is spread out on the green grass overlooking the channel beach, an array of muslin gowns and linen
suits on checkered blankets as far as the eye can see. On the water, the sailboats have lined up for the second day of races,
and with clear blue skies and a cool breeze, it’s shaping up to be an excellent day for flaunting fake engagements.
“Would you like to sit, my dear, or meander a bit before the race begins?” he asks loudly near a cluster of mothers.
“Your mother will be so delighted,” one of them says, looking up at Beth.
Beth smiles brightly and leans into Bobby. “I cannot wait to see her. She’s going to dote on him terribly.”
“No, no, it will be my honor to spoil both of you rotten,” he tells Beth, winking at the mothers before bowing and leading
Beth away. “The letter to your mother and Uncle Dashiell must have arrived by now, right?” he asks as they finally reach Meredith
and Albie’s blanket.
James has sprawled down on his back, his arm flung over his eyes, while Gwen sits next to him, cheerily eating a profiterole.
She pats the space beside her and Bobby helps Beth settle herself and her massive skirt.
“I expect we’ll receive a very wordy letter from my mother and Gwen’s father presently,” Beth assures him as he plops down
on her other side.
“Good,” he says, pretending he’s not at all afraid of Uncle Dashiell’s or Aunt Cordelia’s reaction. He thinks they’ll be happy
for all of them, but doing this in the bubble of Cowes leaves a lot of reassurance to be desired.
He looks over at Meredith and Albie, Meredith reclined between Albie’s legs, his hand resting on her stomach. “And how is life for the happily married?” he asks them.
“Wonderful,” Meredith says, rolling her neck against Albie’s chest to squint over at him. “Cunningham’s gone to get us ices.”
“It’s good to have single friends at these events,” Gwen says as she passes Beth a scone. “They’re ever so useful.”
“Lord Cunningham isn’t single, dearest,” James mumbles.
“Though he wishes,” Bobby mutters to Beth, leaning in to sneak a bite of her scone. Meredith winks at him.
“That’s a pity,” Beth whispers back.
“Not all of us have fabulously clever friends,” Bobby says, pressing his shoulder into hers.
“Did I hear you needed more errand men, Lady Gwen?”
They look up to find Thomas Parker standing behind them, dutifully blocking the sun while looking jaunty in his white linen
suit and broad straw hat.
“Good to see you, Mr.Parker. Please join us, won’t you?” Meredith says, patting the open spot beside her.
Parker sits down and removes his hat, pretending to inspect it as he passes a note to Meredith. She quickly shoves it into
her blue skirt.
“A good morning?” she asks.
“Quite eventful,” Parker says. “Look alive, Lord Demeroven, the race is starting.”
James sits up reluctantly, frowning over at him. “Perhaps if I’d had less whisky last night, I would enjoy the sun more,”
he grumbles.
“But we sent you to bed with plenty of time for a good night’s sleep,” Parker says, sliding his eyes over to Bobby, who tries
to look entirely innocent.
After their dinner and card game with Parker and Cunningham, which involved more schedule-making and planning than cards, he and James may have stayed awake all night in a drunken revel, glorying in their impending freedom.
“Lumpy bed,” James says, shaking his head as both Beth and Gwen giggle. “At least Cunningham looks worse than I do,” he adds.
Cunningham makes his way through the thinning throng of onlookers, carrying three ices with a grimace. His white shirt is
stained with red and one of his suspenders is slipping down his arm.
“Think this will have to be the only run for ice, Lady Mason,” he says, exhaustion heavy in his voice as he passes the ices
to Albie and Meredith and then collapses on Albie’s other side.
“Crowded?” Bobby asks.
“Absolutely mobbed,” Cunningham agrees around a mouthful of his own red treat. “However, it was a useful trip.”
“Did you manage to bump into Scotsman? He said he was looking for you,” Parker says, nonchalant.
“I did. And he had Gladmon with him. They’re both most interested in a dinner with our motley group later this week. Gladmon
might be interested in investing with us too,” Cunningham adds to Parker. “Seems he needs to rebuild his holdings after being
taken in by a bad actor who threatened to go to his father for repayment right after school.”
Bobby glances at James, watches the way his shoulders slump momentarily. Not everyone Raverson has tried to extort has had
the support he and James have. They’re so lucky to have their family, to have Uncle Dashiell. No one should ever have to fear
the retribution of their relatives, or the ostracization of society, or, worse, imprisonment for simply being who they are.
“Scotsman and Gladmon think they might be able to set up a few other dinners for us as well,” Cunningham continues, looking
to Meredith. “I gave them both your card, Lady Mason.”
“Wonderful,” Meredith says. “I think we’re all having a most productive week thus far.”
Bobby catches James’ eye, both of them determined. James is a little sun-kissed, a little rumpled, and entirely, thoroughly
his. They’re going to fix this. They’re going to take Raverson down, all of them, he can feel it.
“So, Mason, what are your plans for the shooting season?” Parker asks, wrenching Bobby’s gaze from James.
He turns to look at Parker, noting everyone on the picnic blanket smirking. All right, they’re going to take Raverson down
and figure out how to stop mooning over each other in public. At least, they’re going to try.
***
“Yes, pull taut over there,” James calls across the stern at Gwen as she expertly secures the halyard.
The choppy waters of the Solent slap against their small yacht. Bobby holds tight to Beth, the two of them being shunted around
the small vessel while James, Gwen, Cunningham, and Parker capably steer them along the coastline.
Today they’ve learned that Gwen would make a strong sailor, Beth gets seasick, and Cunningham has never quite gotten his sea
legs. Parker, however, dances along the deck as though he’s been at sea all his life.
“You all right?” Bobby asks Beth, feeling like he has to shout through the wind.
They’re really clipping along for a leisurely little sail . Gwen’s not the mitigating factor he thinks James probably hoped she would be against Cunningham and Parker, who are absolutely
living out stolen glory, pretending they could be part of the heat later in the morning.
“Fine,” Beth yells. “Don’t let go.”
“Never,” he assures her, catching James’ eye as he swings back around them, heading to relieve Cunningham from the rudder. “Are we almost done?”
James looks between Bobby and Beth and gives Bobby a soft smile. “We’ll head in. And I think the Demerovens may make this
just... our tradition next year, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Bobby and Beth say together, clinging to one another in their sea-sprayed sailing outfits. At least Beth’s hoop is
small enough he can actually hold on to her.
She looks like an adorably drowned rat as she peers up at him imploringly. “You promise me we won’t do this again?”
“The Masons don’t sail,” he says. She laughs a little wetly.
Then they both groan as the boat lists, James finally at the rudder with a disgruntled Cunningham pouting beside him. Gwen
makes her way over to them, holding on to the guard line with one hand.
“Oh, darling,” she says, plunking down beside Beth.
“I truly hate you,” Beth tells her.
Gwen snorts and takes her hand as they glide toward the first jetty at the mouth of the River Medina, just down the street
from their hotel. Bobby spots Albie and Meredith watching them come in along the boardwalk, looking refreshed, coifed, and
rested. He’s never letting James force him out of bed before nine again.
The yacht comes to a halt at their dock and Cunningham and Parker begin tossing ropes and securing the vessel. Bobby and Gwen
get Beth up to standing and James hops onto the dock. Together they pass Beth over into his arms. Gwen’s snickering quietly
and Bobby has half a mind to leave her onboard, but Albie gives him a look from the top of the docks and he sighs, passing
Gwen over before hopping off the nauseating ship and onto solid, stable wood.
His legs sway beneath him and James has to catch his elbow while Gwen holds Beth steady.
“I suppose cruising to America might be out of the question,” James says, reluctantly releasing Bobby as Meredith and Albie
stroll down to meet them.
“The Masons don’t sail,” Beth and Bobby repeat together.
James, Gwen, Meredith, and Albie laugh. Beth huffs and grabs Bobby’s hand, marching them away from their little circle. Bobby
hides his own laughter and lets her tow him up to the boardwalk.
“We’re just teasing,” Gwen calls.
They turn to find Gwen and James close behind, Meredith and Albie having gone on to chat with Cunningham and Parker while
they finish tying off the yacht.
“Well, it isn’t funny,” Beth says, but there’s a tilt to her mouth, and Bobby can see her color coming back. “That was miserable.”
“I’m sorry,” Gwen says, the four of them turning to stand close against the railing at the top of the stairs down to the docks.
The boardwalk is still mostly empty this early. The yachts won’t set out for another hour, and it’ll be one o’clock before
the first heat of the day. It’s peaceful like this, just the four of them by the marina, now that they’re not being pelted
with sea spray and wind.
“We won’t make you go sailing again. It can be a Demeroven-only activity,” Gwen assures Beth.
“Hear, hear,” Bobby says.
“It’s still strange that you’ll be a Demeroven now,” Beth admits, looking over at Gwen.
“It would be pretty improper if you were about to become a Demeroven again ,” Gwen says with a laugh.
James wrinkles his nose at the thought and Beth glares at him. “Hey! I’m going to be an excellent wife. You would be lucky to have me.”
“I’ve laid claim to you already, no need to get combative,” Bobby puts in.
“Is that all you’ve laid, then?”
They turn together to find Lord Raverson standing just behind them on the boardwalk. His linen suit still hangs off his lanky
frame, hair still slightly greasy. But it’s the sneer on his handsome face that stands out the most, twisting him into something
sinister in the early morning light. Embittered and desperate, and rogue.
Bobby glances at James, the two of them stepping in front of Beth and Gwen without a word. Raverson’s eyebrows dance, his
lips curling.
“The happy foursome,” Raverson says loudly. “What a sham.”
“You’re the sham,” Beth says hotly. “Why don’t you piss off and bother someone who cares?”
Bobby adjusts his arm, blocking Beth from stepping forward. It’s always hard to remember, but she does have a temper, seasick
or not.
“Bold words,” Raverson says coolly. “Learn those from your mother? Your line has a talent for slithering into wealth, doesn’t
it?”
“You will not speak another word about Lady Havenfort,” James says hotly. “Go and get yourself a drink for your hangover.
We’re busy.”
“Yes, you look it,” Raverson says, a frantic energy simmering beneath his calm fa?ade. “But not busy enough. I gave you a
deadline, Demeroven, and it’s tomorrow.”
“The only thing you’ll be seeing tomorrow is the back of our private train car, pulling out of Southampton,” Gwen puts in.
Raverson looks them over, the girls pressing into Bobby’s and James’ backs, Bobby and James a united front before them. “Seems I’ll be making that trip to see Lord Havenfort after all. I’ll be taking your daddy for all he’s got,” he says, looking to Gwen.
“My father will rip you to pieces,” Gwen spits back.
Raverson’s gaze slips over to Beth, as if Gwen hasn’t even spoken. “Unless you’d like to cut me a deal, MissBertram? I could
forgo all the ugliness with your cousins and your stepfather if you’d simply... provide me with a living.”
“Like hell,” James says.
“Make an honest man of me, and this all goes away,” Raverson continues.
“I couldn’t make an honest man of you if you were dead,” Beth says evenly.
Raverson’s gaze darkens. “I see Lady Gwen’s deplorable manners have spread to you too.”
“You shut your—” Gwen starts.
“You’re dangerously close to being thrown off the boardwalk,” James says in a low voice. “Go back to your hidey-hole and pray
none of this ever reaches Lord Havenfort. You’ve insulted three branches of his family, and he won’t take that lightly.”
“Well, you’re leaving him no choice, are you?” Raverson says, his voice turning sharp. “At this rate, either he’ll give me
one of the girls, humiliating one of you in the process, or I’ll take down your entire line,” he threatens, stepping forward.
“Beth and I would rather shrivel up and die than marry you,” Gwen says strongly.
“Shut up,” Raverson bites out.
“You must be a miserable, pathetic man, if the best you think you can do is take an unwilling wife. Is it because you don’t think anyone could ever love you for yourself? How sad,” Beth says.
Bobby sucks in a breath as Raverson’s gaze swings to Beth, bright and dangerous. Bobby tries to push Beth further behind him.
“It’s not like your fiancé is willing, is he?” Raverson says softly, the edge of his voice able to cut glass.
“You’ve no idea what I’m willing to do,” Bobby says, pulling himself up to his tallest and staring Raverson down.
“Just because you can only get someone to sleep with you if they’re drunk or being extorted doesn’t mean the rest of the world
is so desperate,” James chimes in. “And the normal reasons people get married are entirely out of your reach, aren’t they?”
Raverson looks to James. “What, love and responsibility? Don’t lie, Demeroven. You no more want a wife than you want a quick
trip to the gallows. I know you.”
“You don’t,” James says, and the certainty in his voice is something to celebrate. “You haven’t grown a day since we were
in school, clinging to your trinkets and blackmail because you’re too frightened to face the world as a man—too frightened
to take the responsibility and title you’ve been given and try to do anything the world might appreciate.”
“Pathetic,” Gwen puts in icily.
Raverson starts forward and James steps away from Gwen, blocking his path. “I’ve hit you once—I’m not afraid to do it again.”
“Tsk, tsk. What would it do to your precious reputation?”
“Only gain me accolades from all those who have met you and found you utterly wanting,” James says, and Bobby refrains from
whooping.
“You won’t be so confident when I go to the papers,” Raverson sneers.
“With what, exactly?” Gwen asks. Bobby shifts again, trying to keep both girls behind him. “That he’s happily engaged and about to receive a sizeable dowry?”
“I can prove your engagements are nothing but a sham with a flick of my wrist,” Raverson says, digging roughly in his pocket
to pull out a small gold ring.
That’s his bloody signet ring. Bobby surges forward only for James to yank him back.
“You’ll pay, or Havenfort will, or the whole ton will know you’re poofs,” Raverson hisses.
“My father won’t give you a farthing,” Gwen says.
“And neither will we,” Bobby agrees.
“I think you’re all very brave here, away from the ton, but when you get back and find yourselves plastered all over the papers—”
“See, I think it’s you who will be plastered all over the papers.” Raverson turns as Meredith and Albie reach the top of the
dock stairs, calm and easy. “What is it you think you have to go to the gossip rags with again?” Meredith asks sweetly.
“Wouldn’t be that you were seen by no less than three parliamentarians fumbling in an alley with the season’s new tenor, would
it?” Albie asks.
Beth nudges into Bobby’s back as Gwen slowly pulls James a few steps away from Raverson, leaving the man at the apex of a
triangle between Albie and Meredith and their cluster by the railing. Bobby hears a far-off curse and imagines Cunningham
and Parker must be headed their way shortly too.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Raverson says easily. But his eyes have gone shifty and he’s swaying on his feet.
“The newspaperman, a dock worker, and... how many was it again, Lady Mason?”
“I think it was three second sons of very reputable lords who know exactly what we’re talking about. I’m sure their fathers would be quite displeased to find out you’re planning to blackmail their sons, all of whom have perfectly respectable alibis for every encounter in question.”
“But the opera singer, and the dock worker, and a few choice young stablehands would be more than happy to cash in on your
offer of funds to keep them quiet. Wouldn’t want your own reputation slandered in the papers. Would keep you from ever earning
an honest living again, wouldn’t it?” Albie asks calmly.
Raverson takes a menacing step toward him, and Albie moves in front of Meredith. Pulled up to his full height and scowling,
Albie is more than intimidating enough to cow any man, much less this version of Raverson. “Take another step toward my pregnant
wife, and you’ll be in the channel.”
Raverson stops and glares around at them. “One day, you’ll slip up, and I’ll be there to capitalize on it.”
“It’ll be your word against the six of ours, and Lord Havenfort, and his entire committee, then,” James says.
“And Thomas Parker’s patrons,” Bobby puts in, proud to see the way Raverson pales at the mention.
“Yes, we don’t take kindly to predators in our midst, no matter who you are or how well-connected,” Parker’s voice adds. He
and Cunningham crest the stairs, a little winded, but properly menacing, backlit as they are by the rising sun.
“We’ve compiled a long list of witnesses who know of your nightly escapades,” Meredith puts in from behind Albie.
“For a man so set on blackmailing, you’ve been highly indiscreet yourself,” Cunningham adds.
From her pocket, Meredith pulls the list of every accusation they’ve been able to gather. Raverson goes red and takes two more steps toward Albie and Meredith. Bobby’s not really sure which of them grabs him first, but he, James, Albie, Parker, and Cunningham make quick work of hauling Raverson to the railing and dumping him over, where he careens into the water below with an enormous splash.
He comes up spluttering, glowering up at the eight of them as they lean over the railing.
“You loathsome, horrid, blasphemous—” Raverson starts.
“It’s your own fault for being drunk at eight in the morning,” Albie calls over him, his voice booming across the water.
Bobby looks over his shoulder to find the splash has attracted the small number of morning walkers. A mix of gentlemen, mothers
and daughters, and dock workers is heading their way. The perfect team of gossips.
“My cousin and her stepsister said no,” Albie continues, overloud. “You need to accept that neither of them wishes to consort
with you, and you should be grateful their fiancés only saw fit to toss you into the sea, rather than take you to task for
assaulting their betrotheds.”
“I—” Raverson spits.
But Albie’s already turning to surveil the crowd assembling around them. “Heartbreak can do terrible things to a man. Don’t
judge Lord Raverson too harshly.”
With that, Albie takes Meredith’s arm and guides her through the crowd. Parker and Cunningham step up on either side of Bobby
and James, and they quickly link arms with Beth and Gwen. They gently push through the assembled onlookers and make a quick
escape, hustling across the boardwalk and up the street.
It’s over . All in a moment.
Bobby watches Meredith pass their list over to Parker, who quickly pockets it. “You’d make a fine politician, Lady Mason,” Parker says as they come to a stop a few doors down from their hotel.
“Oh, I know,” Meredith says with a proud shrug.
“I could have taken him,” Gwen mutters, and James lets out a startled laugh.
“I’m sure you could have,” Beth agrees. “Though that’s not really the impression we want to make.”
“Would have been great, though,” Bobby says, his eyes catching James’. They actually did it.
“Could you gents see he makes his way to the ferry?” Albie asks Parker and Cunningham. “I think he’s done with his visit.”
Parker nods, slinging his arm over Cunningham’s shoulders. “I look forward to our meetings once we’re back. Good show, all
of you,” he says, glancing at James and Bobby.
“Thank you,” James says.
Parker smiles and flicks his thumb, sending something small and golden sailing their way. Bobby reacts by instinct, snatching
it out of the air. He looks down, the initials on his signet ring glinting up from his palm.
“Thank you,” Bobby says, meeting Parker’s eyes.
“Secrets stay inside,” Parker says seriously.
Then with a jaunty wave, he lets Cunningham turn him around to head back to the marina to strong-arm Raverson onto the next
ferry out.
The six of them stand there in a daze, Beth on Bobby’s arm, Gwen on James’.
“Breakfast?” Meredith suggests.
“Finally,” Beth says earnestly, and they all dissolve into laughter.
James’ hand brushes Bobby’s as they stumble toward the hotel, their arms linked with their respective fiancées. His quick fingers snag the signet out of Bobby’s palm.
“You promised me a ring,” he whispers.
Bobby laughs, his chest light. “I did, didn’t I?”
James’ cheeks turn pink as their eyes hold for a moment, before he turns back to Gwen. Bobby takes a deep, elated breath.
They’re safe. Safe to be themselves, to love one another, and to walk through the world, armed not just with the support of
their family, but with a community united.
All that’s left to be done is to actually get married and swan off into the sunset.
... After they face Uncle Dashiell.