Chapter 4 #2
Heath was too busy picturing Blanche—her sharp tongue, her unwavering poise despite the chaos surrounding her. She had accepted his proposal, but did she know her father had abandoned them for good?
His speculations were finally silenced when three of the most important members of the House of Lords entered the hall.
His intelligence had informed him of a private meeting taking place, with the Lord Chancellor among them.
Heath returned to his initial plans—the reason he had led Percy to that particular establishment.
“Percy”, Heath clarified, nodding toward three noblemen. The respected Lords who’d repeatedly snubbed his proposals at Parliament are now revealing their staggering hypocrisy.
Percy let out a low whistle. “Well played indeed.”
The courtesan preened like a cat presented with cream. “Those particular gentlemen keep standing appointments with some of our more… specialized companions. For certain unique tastes.”
“You’ve been very helpful indeed,” Heath mused, giving the blonde an analytical look. “As for the three men over there, what relevant information can you give me about them?”
The woman smiled a dangerously satisfied smile.
“Your excellency will need a shilling for that information. But believe me, it’s worth it…”
After a few moments of quiet negotiation, the woman leaned closer, her voice dropping to a secretive whisper.
And what she revealed left Heath quite pleased.
Approaching the noblemen, Heath noted with satisfaction how their expressions shifted—first from surprise, then to mild discomfort, though they masked it well.
These were arrogant men, accustomed to wielding power, dismissing those who did not suit their interests.
Heath had never been one to cower before them.
“Your Graces,” greeted the Lord Chancellor. His nasal voice dripped with condescension.
Heath inclined his head, his smile practiced, polite—insincere. “What remarkable fortune to encounter you here,” he lied smoothly.
Lord Chancellor smirked, settling into his usual air of superiority. “All men must occasionally indulge in fleshly comforts,” he remarked, his disdainful gaze lingering on Percy’s rumpled cravat. “Some more frequently than others.”
Percy, ever unfazed, merely adjusted his collar with deliberate laziness.
Heath, however, did not engage in their hollow amusement.
“Just as all men harbor secrets,” he countered coolly, swirling his drink. “Gambling debts, for instance. Or innocent men imprisoned over wagers gone wrong. Matters I might feel compelled to mention during my upcoming audience with the Prince Regent.”
Silence.
Percy inhaled sharply, widening his eyes in exaggerated shock.
“Good heavens, Heath,” he murmured, leaning in as if they were sharing some scandalous gossip. “Surely you don’t mean to suggest that such distinguished gentlemen could be involved in such… unfortunate affairs?”
Heath smirked, taking a slow sip of his scotch.
“Oh, I would never suggest such a thing outright, Percy.” He set his glass down with deliberate ease. “But one does hear whispers.”
Percy hummed thoughtfully, tapping his fingers against the table.
“Whispers, indeed. Why, just last week, wasn’t there talk of a certain marquess whose debts had grown so alarmingly that even his most loyal creditors began to withdraw their support?”
Lord Chancellor stiffened, though his expression remained carefully neutral.
“And wasn’t there mention,” Heath continued smoothly, “of a rather unfortunate incident involving a wager gone terribly wrong? A wager that resulted in a man’s imprisonment—though, curiously, the true culprit walked away free?”
Percy sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Tragic, truly. One wonders how such matters remain unresolved.”
A flicker of unease passed over Lord Chancellor’s pale features, though he recovered quickly, forcing a smirk. “Rumors only,” he said, giving Heath what he intended to be a sort of fatherly look. “Nothing for two gentlemen to worry about.”
“Perhaps, though I am sure they would be matters of interest to the prince,” said Heath, to which Lord Chancellor added,
“They may be settled long before your visit to the Prince Regent… You would do better to focus on securing yourself a proper wife. Leave the affairs of the Lords to men who understand them.”
Heath inhaled slowly, allowing a moment of weighted silence to settle between them. Then, with meticulous calm, he set his glass down.
“What a fortunate coincidence,” he mused, tilting his head. “I am already engaged.”
Lord Chancellor blinked, caught off guard. Percy nearly choked on his drink.
“Engaged?”
Heath smiled faintly, savoring the reaction. “Indeed.”
Lord Chancellor recovered swiftly, his gaze sharpening. “And who, pray tell, is the lady?”
Heath met his eyes, unyielding. “Lady Blanche Waldron.”
A beat of silence.
“The—Gooldwer’s daughter?” Percy echoed, incredulous. “Since when?”
Heath smirked, lifting his drink once more.
“Since three days ago.”
The impact was instant.
Lord Chancellor’s composure faltered, his lips parting slightly in surprise before he masked it with a tight, forced chuckle.
For a fleeting moment, Percy’s face was a picture of bewilderment, mirroring the outrage of the three lords seated before them.
Heath saw it immediately—the sheer incredulity in his friend’s expression—and knew he owed him an explanation.
Eventually.
For now, he merely relished Percy’s unfiltered reaction, for it had served his purposes brilliantly. With calculated ease, Heath turned his attention to Lord Chancellor, his gaze steady, assessing.
“Perhaps you’re right, my lord,” he murmured, swirling the last remnants of scotch in his glass. “Perhaps these matters are best handled discreetly, without troubling the Prince Regent. Say, at the next informal gentlemen’s meeting?”
The meaning was unmistakable. Lord Chancellor hesitated—but only briefly.
With reluctant stiffness, he dipped his chin. “Of course, Your Grace.”
“So, it is settled,” Heath said smoothly. “We will discuss the details at the next gathering—after my wedding. To toast the happy event.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” said Lord Chancellor, watching Percy and Heath stroll out of the room.
Satisfaction was on the Duke’s features.
Victory—Heath reflected as they stepped into the fading afternoon light—tasted even sweeter than he’d imagined.