CHAPTER SIX #2
“My dear, Rose. You were as sweet and beautiful as the flower you were named after. However, you had thorns that emerged when you didn’t get your way.
I tried to make your life exciting and interesting.
The Season we spent in London together was a whirlwind of social events, one after another.
We hardly ever stayed home. You wanted to be the belle of every ball, and for a time, you were.
I believe you danced with every gentleman in the ton.
But you paid the price that summer when you refused to leave for the country.
The rain was never-ending that year, and you developed a fever that ultimately took your life. I failed to keep you safe. Forgive me.”
He wiped the wetness from his cheeks. If he could go back in time, he would never have married them. They would still be alive today, perhaps married to other gentlemen. Instead, they’d married him and met their demise.
“How in the hell am I to marry again?” he said aloud. “How can I kill another innocent?”
He moved to the benches, where, between two of them, stood the cherub statue. As with his wives’ names, he traced the name Oliver and placed the fourth bouquet under it.
“Hello, son. We would be celebrating your tenth birthday today if you had lived. Forgive me for not being able to protect you. In the short few hours I held you in my arms, I loved you with all my heart. I would’ve traded my life for yours if I could have.
I would still.” Again, he wiped the tears from his cheeks, cleared his throat, and forced the sadness away.
Unlike his son, he had a life to live. God was not done with him yet.
He made his way back inside the house because surely it must be close to eleven, and he had places to be. Byron was near the door talking to Edwards. “Good, Byron, you are here. Can you tie my neckcloth?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” In no time, it was tied into a simple knot befitting his casual riding clothes. “All done, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Byron.”
There was a soft knock on the door. Edwards opened it, spoke to someone on the other side, then turned to him. “Your horse is ready, Your Grace.”
“Wonderful.” Edwards handed him his hat and riding crop right before he went out the door.
His horse, Wind, because he ran like the wind, stood patiently while a groom held the reins.
Oliver took the reins and mounted the large gelding quickly and easily.
He made a clicking sound with his mouth and flicked the reins, and off they went.
Twenty minutes later, he approached the mews behind Brooks’s.
He dismounted Wind and handed the reins to a groom.
“Take care of him. I will be back in several hours.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the young groom said, taking Oliver’s coin.
When Oliver entered Brooks’s, the many voices he had heard suddenly fell to soft murmurs.
There were five gentlemen huddled over the betting books.
Lord Chapell looked right at him as he slammed the book shut.
The hair on the back of Oliver’s neck stood at attention.
There was only one reason the betting book would suddenly be closed.
They were betting on him. “Your Grace, it is nice to see you,” Chapell said.
At least he had the decency to look contrite.
“Nice to see you as well.” Oliver decided to make the gentlemen talking about him and betting on him squirm. “I see you were all concentrating on the betting book.” He raised a single brow. “Is there something new and interesting to bet on? I do so much like betting on other people’s lives.”
Several of the men blanched. Good. At least they had a conscience. Chapell’s face turned ashen. “Nothing new, Your Grace.”
“You would lie to my face?” Oliver glared at the men watching him, who looked as if they wanted to be anywhere but here.
“I . . .” Chapell began to speak, but Oliver held up a hand, palm out.
“It doesn’t matter to me whether people are betting on me. Just don’t lie about it.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” all five mumbled, some with their heads bowed.
Good. It was about time he was shown the respect he deserved.
“I’ll leave you, gentlemen, to go back to whatever you were doing before I interrupted.
” Oliver went to the back, where it was quieter, and sat at a table for two.
Besides Hudson, he didn’t want to give anyone the idea of joining him for luncheon.
Ten minutes later, Hudson sat down in the empty chair.
“West,” Hudson drawled. “I was surprised to receive your invitation to luncheon.”
Hudson had been calling him West ever since Oliver had inherited his father’s title. It didn’t bother him unless someone else tried to get away with it. It was reserved for his best friend. “Why?” he knew why, of course, but he wanted to hear him say it.
“It’s the anniversary,” Hudson said, waving over a waiter. “You’re usually well into your cups by now.”
“Yes, well. Possibly by day’s end, I will be.” The waiter arrived, waiting for one of them to order, so Oliver did. “Brandy and whatever is being served for luncheon for the two of us.”
The waiter dipped his head. “Yes, Your Grace.” He disappeared and returned with two glasses and a newly opened bottle of brandy. He set all three on the table, then poured the glasses. “Should I leave the bottle, Your Grace?”
“Yes.”
When they were alone, Hudson said, “So what has changed?”
Shrugging his shoulders, he picked up one of the brandy glasses and took a generous sip. “I honestly don’t know. I just know I don’t want to wallow in sadness, blame, guilt, and self-pity anymore. I can’t change the past, but I can do something about the future.”
“It’s about time, West. You weren’t responsible for any of their deaths.”
“It took me ten years, but I’ve come to realize this.”
“Good,” his friend said, sipping his brandy. “I haven’t seen you at any social events since the Barrington ball.”
“No. I was caught off guard by the whispers and talk about the Duke of Doom. Next time I venture out in polite society, I’ll be prepared and ignore the rudeness from my peers.”
“You seem different today. A little anxious, like a cat that caught a mouse and is waiting for dinnertime to devour it.”
Oliver couldn’t help it. He chuckled deep and loud. “If you must know, I have a meeting tonight at the Lyon’s Den with Mrs. Dove-Lyon.”
Hudson snorted. “I don’t believe it. You are meeting with the mysterious ton matchmaker. How did you find out about her?”
“How do you know about her?” Oliver asked.