Chapter One
Club Damnation
Mayfair, London
As a desultory rain drummed on the roof of his closed carriage, Mr. Broderick Cunningham—Dante to his closest friends since it was a middle name—frowned.
He pulled back the black velvet curtain from the window in order to peer out at the wet world where the golden illumination in the windows of the buildings the vehicle passed provided welcome breaks from the winter’s darkness.
There was always darkness. Around him. Inside him.
A darkness that ate away at him like a cancer, of spreading, spilled ink on a desktop, it was slowly overtaking his soul.
Soon, there wouldn’t be any light or goodness left in him, and then what would happen?
What would become of him once he turned that final corner?
Once the misdeeds and horrors of his past caught up to him?
A tap on the roof from the driver invaded his thoughts. “Arriving, Your Grace.”
As if he didn’t already know that. The respectful title curved his lips in amusement, for it was naught but a bit of fiction bestowed upon his club mates at Club Damnation, where every man there was a duke of some sort, whether the title was true or not.
The founder of the club had wished for all the members to be on equal footing, didn’t want a class divide to become problematic between them.
So he’d declared that everyone was a duke, and those who weren’t by birth were allowed to take a “ducal” title with one caveat—it had to come from literature in some way.
That was how Dante had come by his title of Udolpho.
The Mysteries of Udolpho was a Gothic novel by Ann Radcliffe, which appeared in four volumes on May8, 1794 from G.
G. and J. Robinson of London. Some said it was her most popular novel, but it told the story of Emily St. Aubert, who suffered misadventures including the death of her mother and father, supernatural terrors in a gloomy castle, and machinations of Italian brigand Signor Montoni.
Ordinarily, he steered clear of books that smacked of romance, but this one had enough Gothic and frightening elements that it had kept his interest, leading to him asking for it on loan from a lending library multiple times before he’d finally bought a copy of his own.
Did he liken himself to the dark villain of the tale?
That largely depended on the day, but by and large, he was grateful for the ability to escape reality by way of fiction.
Then the carriage tugged to a halt, and in the sudden silence that followed, Dante listened to the steady drum of the rain. A cold rain at that. After all, it was December in London, and he expected any day for the weather to turn and for the rain to change into snow.
God, I detest winter.
The vehicle dipped as the driver came off his box. Seconds later, the door was swung open and the steps put down.
“Thank you, Robert. I expect I’ll wish to leave around midnight. Feel free to utilize the mews nearby and make merry with the staff at Club Damnation or go home. Either way, get out of this miserable rain.”
“I will, Your Grace. Enjoy your evening.”
“Enjoyment is entirely subjective.”
With a sigh, he turned the collar of his greatcoat up then as he exited the carriage, he jammed his top hat upon his head.
His breath clouded about him on the short walk from the street to the front door of the club.
Why the devil hadn’t he chosen to spend the upcoming holiday season in sunny climes with a warm breeze and the hint of salt upon the air?
The moment he stepped into Club Damnation, though, his attitude couldn’t help but change.
After handing over his outer garments as well as his gloves, he moved into the large common room, where the warmth from a cheerful fire behind a metal grate invited him closer.
At small tables and occupying comfortable leather winged-back chairs were other members of the club as well as their acquaintances, some of whom wished to apply for membership.
This must be the one day a month when non-members could come for a visit as a preview, as long as someone within the club could vouch for them.
A footman came promptly to Dante’s side. “The Duke of Eggleton has requested your presence in one of the private rooms, Your Grace. Dinner will be served shortly. If you’ll follow me?”
“Thank you.” How the founder of the club always knew when one of his friends arrived, Dante would never know, but that tiny matter of caring never failed to impress upon his soul.
Who else in his miserable existence cared enough about him?
It spoke volumes that it came from a club owner and a man facing his own problems.
As soon as he was shown into the familiar room, another footman was there, setting a wine glass and a bottle of red wine in front of the chair he slipped into. Three other men, all club members, sat there, each with their own drink of choice, and they greeted him while the footmen drifted out.
“Welcome, Udolpho.” Wallace Denham, the Duke of Eggleton, greeted him. Then he frowned. “You didn’t dress for the evening.”
“I did not.” Where the rest of the men had chosen black evening clothes, Dante had arrived in charcoal breeches, boots, a silver waistcoat, and a jacket of gray-blue superfine.
“The energy wasn’t there tonight, and I couldn’t trouble myself to do so.
Didn’t fancy having the rain seep through my shoes.
If it helps, my valet is also disappointed in me. ”
A second man at the table, the Duke of Thorton, snorted in apparent amusement.
“I wish I’d thought of that excuse. Donning hosiery for the evening is quite aggravating.
” Though he didn’t grin, there was a flash of interest in his blue-gray eyes, and the candlelight turned his blond hair the color of molten gold.
His wide shoulders and broad chest spoke to physical labor, but the way he held himself ramrod straight, the lines of strain or worry that framed his eyes and mouth betrayed a quiet strength that no one except those who knew him best would see.
“Among other things,” Dante murmured before taking refuge in a large sip of wine.
“That is the difference between men like you two and the rest us.” The Duke of Averly smirked after taking a sip of his brandy. His red hair resembled fire in the golden illumination. “One should always strive to look one’s best because one never knows what will happen.”
Dante resisted the urge to lean back in his chair and rest his booted feet on the tabletop, but he clung to the last vestiges of being a gentleman, even if he was anything but.
“How does your wife fair, Averly? All is well?” The two of them would welcome their first child in three months, and while Averly was over the moon at the prospect, he had also been wracked with worry.
“She is nesting, I believe. All is well with her health, and quite frankly, she couldn’t be happier.” The expression of smug satisfaction on his face said everything he did not. “We’re hoping for an heir, of course, but either gender will be welcomed and loved equally.”
“I am happy for you,” Eggleton said with a grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Children should always be a celebrated addition to one’s family.”
Dante frowned. Wasn’t the older man childless? What had transpired in his life that he hadn’t shared with them yet? “Where is Ravenhurst these days? I can’t remember seeing him about since early last month. Has he left Town?”
“He has.” Eggleton nodded. “Ravenhurst has gone to his country estate. This is the first Christmas with his wife, so it’s special to him, and he’s still tip over tail for her.
” He took a large gulp of his brandy, winced as he swallowed.
“Steppingford as well. I’ve not seen two men so much in love as those two are with their wives. ”
“Except you,” Dante said as a stab of envy or perhaps jealousy went through his chest, but wasn’t he too far gone in vices to be domesticated?
Eggleton snorted. “I would do anything for my wife. It’s just right now, she is out of sorts with me. Ice runs through her veins presently.”
Thorton narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?”
“Why do you assume our troubles stem from something I did?”
“Didn’t you?”
“Yes. God, yes.” Eggleton rubbed a hand along the side of his face. “During a weak moment six years ago when I was on my last mission for England, I drank too much and was missing Abigail, so I bedded my mistress, which resulted in a child.”
The men around the table stared in shock at him.
“And?” Dante questioned with a frown. “That happens all the time.”
“Yes, but my mistress is about to leave this mortal coil, and she wants me to raise the child, since I am his father.” Eggleton grunted. “My wife accidentally saw some of my correspondence with that information, and now she’s both furious and heartbroken.”
“Damn.” Averly leaned an elbow on the table. “What are you going to do?”
“Take the boy in, of course. She has conceded that point, but everything else is in question. Hell, she’s even advised me to not call her by endearments.”
Dante stared. “Furious, indeed.” He drained his wineglass. “How are you going to rout her?”
“I have no idea.” The older man buried his head in his hands. “It’s not a matter of routing her. I need to win back her trust and her love, but I also wish to provide for the child. It’s a conundrum.”
Thornton cleared his throat. “You will preserve. Unlike me, who am unable to balance my wife and my mental demons, which has made me hide in the country.” He shook his head as they stared, for they’d not known he was married.
“Ah, I didn’t tell you I had a wife.” He blew out a breath.
“Two years, actually, and she is one of the reasons I’m even in Town right now. ”
“Uh, why?” Dante’s head reeled from all the truths flying about tonight.