Chapter Seven #3
Quickly, David averted his face and coughed into his hand.
By the time he turned back, the party had been seated.
He wondered if he should mention something to Henry and decided not to do so.
Claude’s back was to them. True, they would have to pass by his brother’s table when they departed, but he would stare straight ahead, and Claude would only see the back side of him as they passed by.
His brother would never know how close he had come to encountering his brother.
They finished with their pie, and Henry asked if David might wish to linger over a glass of port.
“Might we do that at your townhouse?” he asked, knowing the longer he was here, the greater the likelihood Claude might accidentally spot him.
Then again, it had been over seven years since his brother had last seen him.
David knew his face had matured and his frame had filled out. He doubted Claude would know him.
They rose, placing their napkins in the chair, and started toward the entrance to the dining room, Henry leading the way.
Claude’s party, which had remained overly loud, was guffawing at something said.
As David passed by, he stared out to the right so that his brother would not even catch sight of his profile.
Unfortunately, Claude must have made a wild gesture with his hand, one containing his glass of wine, and David collided with it.
Wine spilled down the front of him, and he stopped in his tracks.
Claude cursed at him and then narrowed his eyes, looking carefully at David.
In that moment, he knew his brother recognized him.
“You!” Claude hissed. “What the bloody hell are you doing in my club? I was hoping you had already suffered an agonizing death on the battlefield. Why, if I were one of Bonaparte’s French bastards, I would have gathered all my fellow soldiers, and we would have used our bayonets to turn you into a human pin cushion. ”
Henry, who had strode ahead several paces, returned, holding out a stiff arm in front of David, easing him back.
“Name yourself,” he bluntly commanded Claude.
His brother’s face, already red, now flamed in rage. “Why, I am the Earl of Sheridan. Who might you be? The man who dragged this scum into White’s?”
“I am the Marquess of Marbury,” his friend declared, his tone deadly, the entire dining room now listening to the exchange. “Heir apparent to the Duke of Norville.”
That certainly got Claude’s attention. Even drunk, he knew not to insult someone who wielded the power Henry did.
“Forgive me, my lord.”
“Apologize,” Henry demanded.
“What?” Claude asked, clearly confused. “I am sorry if I have offended you, Lord Marbury. That was not my intention.”
“Not to me, you ignorant fool. Mr. Rochester is the one who deserves your apology.”
David knew that stubborn set to Claude’s mouth. He had seen it far too many times, when they were younger and Claude wanted his way.
“I have nothing to apologize for to . . . this man.”
By now, you could hear a pin drop. The entire dining room had fallen silent, taking in the proceedings with interest. David could only imagine how the gossip would fly the moment they exited.
“This man, as you call him, is your brother,” Henry said through gritted teeth. “He has risked life and limb, all in the name of king and country, and does not deserve your derision.”
When Claude merely glared up at Henry, David said, “He is not worthy of your time, Marbury. Let us go.”
Henry’s menacing gaze pierced Claude. “I will not forget this, Sheridan.”
They left White’s, returning to the carriage. Inside, David began to apologize, but his friend stopped him.
“Why do you apologize? It is your bloody brother who should have apologized. Why does he hate you so much, David?”
“Claude despises everyone. It is simply his nature. And he is a jealous man. Although Maman loved him unconditionally, despite his sour nature, my brother was jealous that she also loved me.”
“You had told me he was an arrogant man, but his behavior toward you was inexcusable.”
He shrugged. “That is simply Claude. When he gained the title—and the wealth and power that came with it—he wanted me gone from England. I was never to come to Sheridale again.”
Sympathy filled Henry’s eyes. “No wonder you sought a new brother in me. Know that I am honored to call you my friend, David. And if I ever have a chance to put Sheridan in his place, I will take it.”
“Let us forget him,” he urged. “This trip to town has been rewarding. I have gained hundreds of free books. Purchased many more. We have seen to Lady Justina’s paintings, and I had the opportunity to dine at White’s.
Look on the bright side. We have gained much during this time in town, Henry.
And, as always, I have enjoyed being in your company. ”
His friend smiled. “I will never tire of your company, nor your positive attitude. I hope our journey home will be uneventful.”
David hoped the same—and he was eager to meet with Lady Justina again. Bringing her the good news regarding her paintings would begin their conversation.
And he hoped it might end in a kiss.