Chapter 5
“Congratulations, Wycliffe!”
Coming to his club this morning was no longer the peaceful hub he had anticipated. Dominic nodded while yet another lord shook his arm. “Thank you for your felicitations.”
“An Ashbourne is a fine match. Large family, of course, so I’m sure you had your pick,” chortled the older Lord Dunn, the Baron of Kentworth. “I understand you accepted the eldest daughter. Didn’t care for someone more youthful?”
“The eldest was practically on the shelf. I don’t know if anyone has danced with her in eons.
Until now, of course.” Dunn’s cousin was a country gentleman who, with African mines, had bribed his way into most doors of London.
While Dominic had no qualms with new money like most of the ruling class, he didn’t care for anyone speaking ill of his intended.
“You’ve put a fair light on her, I must say. ”
He dropped the gentleman’s hand after a short shake, surprising Mr. Dunn. “My intended duchess shines a light wherever she goes. Good day, Lord Dunn. Mr. Dunn.”
Perhaps it was late enough in the day for spirits. Dominic entered the hall to catch a servant for a drink. He checked the time after placing his order, finding he still had two hours to pass until his first appointment of the day.
At least it will be short. One hour for tea with Verity. And I cannot be certain that we will have any time alone. I only hope not all of her siblings appear.
“I can only be grateful dear Mary has long since passed so she mustn’t see me like this. Are you certain I won’t be sent to debtors’ prison?”
Though the gentleman hissed in a quiet voice, the hall was nearly empty and Dominic had nothing better to do. He turned his gaze toward an open window but not before catching sight of the two men exiting the billiards room.
“They would never send someone of your station. This is not the time to panic, I’m telling you. Don’t leave London. At least not yet,” his friend––or solicitor––hastily added.
“But what am I supposed to do? Blast it, I can’t even be here without you vouching for my every penny. Even the servants watch me with disdain. I’ve sold nearly everything I can by now. Except the bust.”
“My good man, it is time to sell the bust.”
“I love that Caesar bust. Shipped straight from Egypt, you know.”
A huff sounded. “Everyone in England knows the story. Even the one about your debts, which I don’t understand. I thought I told you not to tell a soul!”
“I only told my sons. They deserved to know!”
“Yes, and your eldest has a mistress with a loose tongue. I wouldn’t be surprised if she went blabbering to Lady Hemphill.”
“I didn’t think it would end up in a gossip journal!” The gentleman was growing irritable now, his voice raising. Dominic couldn’t help but look again. He vaguely recognized the portly baron. “Now I have no hopes of salvaging my debts here!”
When he slapped a nearby wall, his companion jumped and attempted to hush him.
“My lords?” A butler had appeared. “I do believe this conversation might be best maintained out of doors.”
The lot of them began to argue as another servant slipped by to deliver a drink to Dominic. He watched, intrigued over the matter. Lords gained and lost fortunes frequently enough, only it was typically quietly done. To have debt tied to a gentleman’s name could be ugly at times.
Had Lady Hemphill found out his secret? Was it Hemphill who told everyone or the journal? Perhaps they are tied together. To have a secret out so swiftly…
Dominic decided to take his leave when the baron raised his voice yet again, complaining he had a right to be there whether he was still a paying member or not. This was not something he wanted to involve himself in.
Rounding the corner of the next hall, he stopped short as a fresh face––and already drunk at eleven in the morning––appeared before him.
“Well, well. My new brother,” drawled Lucien Ashbourne. He dramatically tipped his head to the side; this let his dark wavy hair slide down over his brow. There was a curve to his lips and Dominic noted a small scar on his chin. “What a delight to see you here.”
“Good morning, Mr. Ashbourne.” Dominic said. Politeness was ever the best tactic. “How do you do?”
“How many times have you met my sister?”
There were three gentlemen standing behind Lucien who watched with amusement and nearly empty glasses in hand. One of them carried a decanter, most likely from a room that it was not meant to leave. No one appeared to entertain the idea of returning it, telling Dominic many things all at once.
His gaze returned to Lucien as he evaded the question. “I can hardly understand the intention of such a question. Isn’t it early for riddles?”
Lucien pursed his lips like he was holding back a laugh.
“It’s never early for a good jest. Which is why I laughed when my brother told me who our dearly beloved Verity was going to marry.
Then I saw the newspaper announcement. Have you met my sister enough times to know you wish to spend the rest of your life with her? ”
“Aren’t these questions better suited to asking your sister?”
Judging by the young man’s dismissive snort, Dominic had to assume Lucien had indeed asked Verity. And Verity had not given him the answers he desired.
“Do you even like her?” The question was blurted out so suddenly that it surprised them both. Lucien’s widened eyes quickly drooped to be heavy lidded like it never happened.
Except the silence between them said otherwise.
Dominic debated answer before finally saying, “Perhaps this is a conversation to have in another place at another time. This afternoon, perhaps, in two hours’ time?”
“Why?”
“Why this afternoon?”
“Why,” Lucien sounded out slowly, “Are you marrying her? Why would you marry Verity?”
Because your brother insisted on it. Because your brother and I have agreed to take a secret to our graves, bringing Verity in the middle of it.
Because she is a sacrificial lamb and has accepted to be the offering.
Because she appears well-suited to being a duchess and wife.
Because she is observant and clever and confident.
Because I need a wife. Because I need her.
Several thoughts flooded Dominic’s mind as he fought to push them away. His pulse picked up while he forced a deep breath.
Finally, he replied, “This is hardly your business. So long as your sister has accepted my suit, I believe this is best for all of us moving forward. Should we not all be gentlemen and ladies of our word?”
The other fellows shared shrugs with each other while Lucien stared him down like he was trying to better understand Dominic’s face. Perhaps the slightest crick in his nose. The color of his eyes. His too-long jaw.
“Very well. By all accounts, you are rich, and I am told you are a fair gentleman. I expect you will treat my sister well just as she deserves: a lady,” Lucien said emphatically.
“Certainly.”
“Oh. Good.” Lucien rocked back on his heals. “And the family?”
Dominic’s brow furrowed over that. “What family?”
“You’ll be part of our family,” the young man’s eyes lit up as he went on. “Say, I heard you have a place in Brookeshire, do you not? With all the quail? You’ll be a good brother to invite us out sometime, yes?”
He didn’t often go to the Brookeshire estate.
It had been in his family for the last three years, a large hunting lodge in a corner of England where game still thrived.
Dominic found it too distracting and would have sold it off long ago had he not several fond memories of being a child there with his mother in days yonder.
“I suppose,” he started to answer without thinking.
“Splendid! We’ll be certain to come there for a weekend or two, I think, a month if you’ll have us all. The girls won’t hunt, of course, but they do love games. What a fine host you shall be. Very good, Your Grace. We’ll be seeing you.”
Before Dominic could confirm what he had agreed to, Lucien was strolling off with his fellows close behind him. Dominic closed his mouth. It didn’t seem possibly his future family was inviting themselves to his properties. That was a rather entitled perspective.
The young gentlemen disappeared.
Dominic soon took his leave so he arrived at the Ashbourne house right on time to find the door opening before he reached the top step.
A servant appeared. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.” He bowed politely before taking the cloak and hat from him. “Right this way to the drawing room, if you please.”
Everything in the hall appeared exactly the same. This time, Dominic was led up the first set of stairs to the next landing. Brought to the first door on the right, he noted the beautiful room and mismatched furniture.
And then seated around all of them––well, they were slowly rising––were the three Ashbourne ladies.
“Your Grace, would you like to sit?” Verity asked with a raised eyebrow.
He blinked, realizing he still stood upon the threshold of the room. One step after another. Pausing, he offered polite bows before accepting the seat that Verity gestured to. He had a sofa to himself while the three shared another.
“Thank you for joining us for tea today,” Verity said.
“Yes, thank you,” Octavia said while nudging their other sister.
Elowen whispered, “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“You do me an honor. Thank you for hosting me today. I trust you are all well?” He asked.
“We are well,” Verity responded for them. She glanced at her siblings with an inscrutable glance before asking him, “Would you care for some tea?”
He nodded. “Yes, thank you. Only one sugar.
“Only one?” Octavia asked with fascination.
Even with Octavia’s wiggling energy, Dominic found himself watching her older sister as she moved gracefully with practiced movements to prepare everyone’s tea perfectly.
“I don’t think you can taste anything with just one cube of sugar.
I need at least three, plus cream. Don’t you like cream? ”