Chapter 38
Colt wandered into Brooks’s Club and scanned the room for a chair.
He had recovered from his injury well enough, though he tired easily; thus, he did not care to stand idle for long periods without a place to sit when he felt like it.
A few chairs were available, and across the room, he observed young Arthur and Edmund engaged in a lively conversation by the distant fire.
From the grin of delight on Arthur’s countenance, Colt imagined he finally had those infernal vowels of his back in his possession. He weaved his way through the tables and chairs.
“Good evening, gentlemen. Mind if I join you?” He had already lowered himself into the stiff leather wing chair beside them.
Arthur greeted him cheerfully, and Edmund nodded.
“Do I detect a note of relief in the air this evening? Can it be you have solved the issue of Mrs Gardner and the IOUs?” Colt bestowed one of his dimpled smiles on them. “George shares everything with me. I hope you do not object.”
“George indeed returned them to me,” Arthur confided. “I am very fortunate.”
Edmund extended a fond smile towards his friend. “And he has just proposed to Lady Maggie, and she consented to be his wife.”
Arthur beamed, happiness radiating a sheen in his rosy cheeks.
“Congratulations. That is excellent news.” Colt shook his hand. warmly.
Edmund sniffled.
If Edmund was in an emotional mood, perhaps Colt had erred in joining these two. He poured them all liberal glasses of wine from the decanter resting on the table between them.
“Cards anyone? Penny stakes only,” he added quickly, mindful of Arthur’s recent misadventures.
Edmund and Arthur agreed.
“This is infinitely b-better than Mrs Gardner’s,” Arthur declared, making himself comfortable as Colt arranged for cards from a passing attendant.
“I should say so. And safer, for you know we will not try to swindle you,” Edmund murmured.
Colt dealt the cards.
“I should never have taken you there. Much better to introduce you to games here without the scavengers around,” Edmund said.
“Indeed. I do not wager against anyone other than family and friends anymore,” Arthur announced with pride.
“Very glad to hear it, old chap,” Colt said.
As they played, it became increasingly difficult to ignore -Edmund’s despondent sighs.
“Why so unhappy?” Arthur ventured after a while.
Colt noted Arthur’s sensitivity to others, so aware and responsive when someone laboured with a fit of the doldrums. Colt would have rather ignored Edmund’s sullen mood, but he supposed he could learn a thing from young Mr Coombes.
Edmund stretched back in his chair. He took his glass and studied the deep red liquid swirling around the glass. “I am a bit of a fool,” he admitted.
“Ah yes,” Arthur returned knowingly. “As is my sister, Emily. Both fools for love.”
Colt placed his cards face-down on the table. By the looks of things, they would be pausing the game to attend to Edmund’s romantic sensibilities.
“I fancied myself in love with the wrong person.”
“You do that often,” Arthur pointed out. “Luckily, you only feel sad for a day or two and then find someone else.”
Edmund inclined his head back and blinked quickly to avoid tears. “You are correct, of course. I have made an unfortunate habit of it.”
Colt noticed Leggy enter the club and take a seat at the far side of the room, where there were plenty of vacant seats. Colt found himself gazing longingly in that direction, wishing to be far away from Edmund’s romantic dilemmas.
“Was I so wrong to believe that Mr Dalrymple returned my affections? He favoured me with several dances. We went for a promenade at the fashionable hour, for all to see, and he agreed to walk with me in Vauxhall.”
“Did you give him a choice? I have seen you browbeat people,” Arthur added, as only a loyal friend might.
Colt made a slight snorting noise at Arthur’s candour.
Edmund clapped his hand to his chest, appalled by the notion.
“Nonsense! I merely ask and invite. Of course, he could have declined if he wished to,” he said, in a voice now lacking in conviction.
He poured them more wine, and Colt could see he was turning events over in his mind.
“Heavens, I think you might be correct.”
Arthur gave another knowing grin. “Yes.” They continued the hand in silence for a while longer. “You are good at teaching me cards,” Arthur volunteered. “Sh-shall I teach you something?”
Edmund could not repress a smile. “Of course.”
“You do not need to be in love all the time to be happy, Edmund. In fact, it is not good for you. I think you should stop looking for a person to love and marry.” He let Edmund digest his words. “You are handsome, fashionable, clever and kind. You will find someone when the time is right.”
Colt regarded Arthur with new appreciation.
“And it is far easier to love someone who likes you. D-do not look for him. He will find you. Try painting. That is how I met M-Maggie.”
Colt cleared his throat and found both young gentlemen gazing at him, their eyes brimming with expectation. “I am no expert in matters of the heart, but I would say your friend here offers very sage advice.”
He frowned. He had managed to get to his age with no significant romantic entanglement.
His history was peppered with fleeting affairs, and he had left many broken hearts in his wake.
And now, the love of his life refused to trust him.
He could only look back with regret at many of the choices he had made.
Edmund shifted his body, so he almost entirely faced Colt. “Forgive me, but that is rather different from how you appear to live. You almost died in a duel over his sister, at the hand of the man I love.”
Colt nearly choked on his wine. “I did not almost die! Steady on. Someone has blown that matter out of all proportion, I assure you. Is that what you heard?” Heat rushed to his cheeks.
“In truth, I am prepared to change my ways. But a lifetime of inappropriate behaviour is coming up against me.” He exhaled slowly and stood up.
“You are right. I am not one to give advice.”
He couldn’t even get the woman he loved to marry him.
***
Leaving the young gentlemen to their game, Colt wandered over to Leggy and collapsed on the sofa beside him with a sigh. At least Leggy would not trap him in morose conversation.
Leggy cast him a dubious look. “What’s the matter with you, then?”
Colt considered Sarah. He had seen her only yesterday, and he already missed her. Not only her beautiful countenance, but her warm laugh that set him alight and her easy banter.
“Only that I’ve done my best to untangle a knot and seem to have only made it worse. At least Georgina had managed to resolve Mr Coombes’s affairs.”
A frown descended upon Leggy’s features. “Any particular knot in mind? I’m quite good with a bowline. A cousin of mine became a commander in the Royal Navy a few years back. Always fascinated by rope. I am delighted to make an endeavour, if you have some handy.”
Colt recognised immediately that his flowery language had been a mistake.
“No, I don’t—” He stopped himself as he observed Sarah herself enter the club. His breath hitched in his throat. She snaked through the small clusters of assembled patrons and as she approached, his attention narrowed onto her alone, with Leggy fading into the background along with everyone else.
“Sarah?”
“Hello, Mrs F,” Leggy said, his cheerful voice piercing Colt’s trance. “Fancy a claret?”
She acknowledged Leggy but set her eyes on Colt. “This will not do,” she announced.
Leggy eyed his glass askance. “You think not? I thought it was quite a fine drop.” He sniffed the wine in irritation.
“Leggy …” Colt checked him in a menacing tone. “Not now.”
“Easy for you to say. You haven’t been drinking it! They’ve been allowing Prinny to select the wine again, I’ll wager,” he said with disdain.
“The Prince Regent has not been selecting the wine, Leggy,” Colt reassured him. “Oh, look, there is Carruthers over there. Did you not wish to talk to him about purchasing those match bays you saw him with the other day?”
“By Jove, yes! Excuse me, Mrs F. Important matter of business!” Leggy discarded what remained of his inferior glass of wine on the nearby table and rushed across the room in pursuit of Mr Carruthers.
“Thank you for distracting him. He does tend to go on.”
“Indeed, one never knows when or where one of his diatribes will end,” Colt agreed.
“Might I procure you a drink? Perhaps not the claret.” He did not wish to distract her from her purpose, yet his own pulse raced.
Perhaps she had concluded they could not maintain their friendship. He fought a sinking sensation.
“No, thank you,” she said.
“You seem distracted. Is something amiss?”
Sarah paused, looking unsure. “I am worried about Georgina. She is not happy.”
“Indeed, I plucked her from Mem Lavigne’s yesterday morning. She had been there for some days. I had not seen her so intoxicated since … Well. Henry.”
Sarah nodded. “She told me you helped her. I saw her yesterday afternoon.”
He rubbed the back of his head. “And what do you make of her state?”
“She is in love, of course.”
“George?” He had never known her to fall in love. Besides, she had been far too preoccupied with the business of Arthur and his vowels to have lost her heart along the way.
“And she is heartbroken.”
“Over whom?”
A defiant twinkle flashed in Sarah’s eyes.
“Not Lady Mortimer!”
“It does not need to make sense to you, Robert,” Sarah countered. The corners of her mouth twitched. “Georgina also told me of her surprise to learn that you proposed to me.”
Colt stood suddenly and took a step towards her, a dimpled smile peeping through his cheeks. “You discussed that with her?”
She became visibly flustered as he closed the gap between them.
“What will not do, Sarah?” he asked gently, drawing her back to her purpose.
“What?”
“When you arrived, just now, you said, ‘This will not do.’ I suspect you are not here to talk about Georgina, after all.”
Sarah paused, fingertips pressed against her temples, and took a slow, deep breath. “I would be most obliged if you might consider offering for me again,” she declared finally, her tone low to avoid curious spectators. “If you still want to,” she added hastily.
His gaze softened upon her, and time slowed. “Sarah, will you marry me?”
“Yes, Robert, I will,” she answered, and a smile broke out across her face.
All at once, and completely heedless of their surroundings, Colt swept Sarah up into his arms and off her feet. He twirled her around easily, much to the surprise of the other club patrons.
“How would you feel if I obtained a special licence?”
“That would suit me very well,” Sarah replied, her eyes kindling.
He took both her hands in his and kissed her knuckles. “Then there is not a moment to lose.”