9781618858467ASinfulEducationPimentel (3 page)

“Isabel, I
have to admit, Miss Turner does raise a valid point. Good heavens, the man is
simply…” A shadow cast over them as she was about to continue. She looked up,
only to gaze upon the object of their fiendish and scandalous discussion.

“Ladies, I
do hope I am not interrupting an important debate?” Lord Avonlea asked, who was
joined by her brother a few moments later.

Emily and
her companions shook their heads. “Certainly not, my lords. Is anything amiss?”

“Not at all.
It just so happens my mother is riding with my aunt, and I am in need of
practicing my evasion tactics. Besides,
t’would
be
bad form, if your brother and I noticed you and did not stop to visit with you.
That is, if you do not mind. If you are expecting anyone else…”

Without even
realizing her hand had left her side, Emily reached out to his leg. “You are
welcome to join us, my lords. Here, there is enough room on the blanket as
well.”

For the
briefest of moments, her heart stopped when she touched him. He stared down at
her and their gazes held for a moment. He sat next to her, and as he righted
himself, Emily handed him a
sandwhich
that Duncan had
prepared. “Would you care for a bite, my lord?”

“I would
indeed. You are most kind.”

“
’Tis
our pleasure, my lord.”

“Nathaniel,
why are you still standing?” Emily queried, ready to pass him a biscuit.

“No, my
dear. I think I shall head on back home. I did promise Isabel I would be home
on time this afternoon.”

I am perfectly fine with that. I would not
care for you watch how foolishly I behave around this fine specimen of a man.
“Pity.
I was looking forward to discussing dinner plans on Saturday.”

“If you are
at all concerned with what is going to be served, I can assure you that Isabel
is quite capable of handling the arrangements. Do you doubt cooks ability in
serving all of us?”

Emily gasped
at the horror of how she must have spoken. “My apologies, Nathaniel, I meant no
offense.”

He chuckled
at her. Heat seared her cheeks with embarrassment. Her brother certainly knew
how to jest with her. She glanced over at lord Avonlea and found him smiling at
their banter, while her companions fluttered their fans, hiding their
amusement.

How in the world will I deal with having
dinner near him on Saturday? I cannot think straight, nor can I have a
conversation that does not include a vivid image of him charming me. I am
simply besotted. If Mama every found out— Perhaps the only place for me is the
nunnery.

Chapter Two

“So tell me,
Lord Avonlea, have you heard the news yet?” The marchioness raised her
eyebrows, sipping on her wine.

He imagined
she was making reference to the Duke of Downsbury’s return. The very thought of
the man made him gag.

Nathaniel cleared
his throat, obviously hoping to deter his relentless wife, but the woman
continued.

“His grace,
the useless and deplorable Duke of Downsbury, has returned to town, and he is
apparently still in the marriage mart, something I hear you have in common with
him.”

Christ.
His mother had certainly spread
the word he was looking for a wife. He looked up to find Emily glaring at him.
She pursed her lips, a crimson flush sweeping across her cheeks. When their
eyes met, she turned away. “Yes, I have heard he has returned, and while I
disapprove of his being permitted to find a new bride so soon, it is hardly a
matter any one of us can control.”

“Here, here,”
Nathaniel muttered.

Emily cleared
her throat. “I, for one, am appalled at his lack of insensitivity. How does one
not mourn the loss of their spouse? When two people enter the sacred union of
marriage, they become partners for life. How dreadful, that even if their
marriage wasn’t as it should be, he could not at least put on airs.”

“That may be
the case, but we still have no business to involve ourselves.”

“On the
contrary, my dear, we should be interfering. I
shant
name my source, nevertheless rumor has it, he has his sights set on our very
own Emily.”

Emily
gasped, cutlery slipping out of her hand and clamoring to the floor. “I have no
idea what would have given you that impression, Isabel, but surely you are
mistaken. I would never marry such an unfeeling clout.”

“And you, my
dear sister, do not understand the power Mother wields when it comes to making
deals with the devil. She is, after all, your legal guardian.” Nathaniel tossed
his napkin onto the table.

Emily gazed
at her brother with a pensive expression for a brief moment then she looked
down, cleared her throat, and ran from the room. Her sobs echoed down the hall.

Avonlea could
not blame her for losing her composure, for surely, if he was in her situation,
he would most certainly find it grave. He could not think of a single female
who would want a cold and unfeeling duke to prevail upon them. She pulled at
his heart. Something in her blue eyes called to him.

Charles quietly
observed the usually upbeat family dynamic suddenly change into something
mournful and serious. He could not recall a single time when he had seen them
all this distressed, other than many months back. “Now, now, there is no need
to spoil what was a cheerful evening. My lady, dinner was outstanding, but I do
regret I should depart. There is a young lady in need of consoling. I should
hate to impose further.”

“My lord, you
would not be imposing, as I was the one who invited you. And do not worry a
moment over Emily. The silly gel is worrying over nothing, and I shall soon ease
her anxiety. Besides, I am sure the
marquess
would
not mind time alone with you.” The marchioness gazed kindly at her husband
while she pulled away from the table. “Excuse me, my lords, I have a young lady
to console.”

Avonlea nodded
and turned to face his host. “Honestly, Nathaniel, I do not want to keep you
from explaining further to your sister on what your wife’s meaning was.”

“It is no
trouble at all, old friend. Let us move into the library and get more
comfortable.”

Avonlea followed
the
marquess
, his nerves frayed and sanity
questionable. He paced by the fire, feeling more on edge than ever before. Nathaniel
poured them some port. He reached out and took the glass. “Thank you.”

“I have been
meaning to address some concerns, Avonlea. Up until that nasty business with
Downsbury, we had not had a chance to discuss your return from the continent,
nor mine. I imagine you completed your assignments? You returned to London at
least a month before me. You were not hurt, were you?”

Avonlea chose
his next words wisely. Here he stood with one of the only men he trusted with
his life. What would he do with the information about Celine, the baby, the
opium? Would he expose himself for the true cad he was?

Somehow, he
doubted it, but that same feeling that the ground would disappear from beneath
him loomed again, just as when his mother and aunt had berated him for not
having found a wife yet. Only this time, he sat on the floor trying to regain
his senses whilst the world tipped on its axis.

He looked up
to find Nathaniel on his haunches before him. “Are you all right, Charles?”

He sighed,
and with resignation, told his story to the bitter end. “So now, do you
comprehend why I stayed away? If the war office knew that I never completed my
assignment, I would be finished.”

“Not
necessarily, old friend. To some degree, in your circumstances, some would have
considered you unfit to complete the mission, and they would have retracted you
immediately. If it had come to the question of your honesty, I would have gladly
stood by you. But sadly, we were not on the same assignment.”

A pity that. But mayhap, it was for the
better.
“
’Tis
a good thing to know you still
value our friendship.” But would the rest of society understand? His mother and
aunt could not begin to comprehend the complex emotions he kept hidden, and he
certainly could not expect another woman to feel second rate, either. There
simply was not an easy answer on how to move forward.

Nathaniel rose
and squeezed his shoulder. “And you, my friend, were at my side during one of
the most difficult times of my life. I will stand by yours, if there ever is a
need.”

Avonlea eased
back into his chair. Relief washed over him, and with comfort finally settling
him, he swallowed the remainder of his drink. “What other concerns do you have,
Nathaniel?”

“Lord
Wycliffe, in particular. I am not quite sure as to how deep his attachment with
the former Duchess of Downsbury goes, but what I do know is, in his present
state of madness, he’ll soon no longer be permitted into White’s if he cannot
get his drinking under control.”

“And that is
just the beginning.” Charles snorted and stood to help himself to another port.
“Can I get you another? For I am sure we will be needing a few more before we
are finished.”

“Certainly.”

Avonlea set
the decanter down and walked toward the
marquess
with
their glasses. Whatever troubled the earl would soon pass, or so he hoped.

* * * *

Avonlea
groaned at the sight before him.

Lord
Rutledge and a few others sat amused, watching a member of their circle make a
total and utter fool of himself. The server attempted to leave a drink on the
table for Wycliffe, but the clout kept reaching for the other glasses on the
tray.

“My lord,
those aren’t for you”, the scrawny young man said, holding back the plate.
“Those belong to other patrons. If you would like, I will drop by again in a
few moments with another for yourself.”

Wycliffe
mumbled an obscenity and went back to his own beverage.

Avonlea reached
over the table and swiped the Earl of Wycliffe’s scotch. The man had clearly imbibed
enough already. And he suspected it had to do with the former Duchess of
Downsbury’s untimely death.

“Give me my blasted
drink back!” Wycliffe hiccupped.

He simply
shook his head. “I will not. Get a grip of yourself, man. I understand you are
mourning, but enough is enough.” Avonlea swirled the contents, eliciting a
groan from Wycliffe. “This will not bring her back. It is time to move on.”

Wycliffe
snorted. “I cannot simply go and find someone to replace her. You would not
understand. I have needs, and only she knew exactly what I required.”

This surely could not be all about bedding a
woman. Just what exactly is he in to?

His comment
had garnered some attention, the other gents chuckling in their seats.

“I assure
you, if you take the time to visit Madame Martine’s establishment, you would be
pleasantly surprised at how accommodating her ladies are,” the earl quipped.

The drunkard
grunted in disgust. “If you won’t give me my drink, and the staff here at
White’s won’t serve me, I will find myself a hovel. Luckily for me, London has
many.”

He rose,
knocking over his chair, and ran into a server, sending his tray clattering to
the floor. The contents spilled and stained his pants. “Ugh! Get out of my way.”
Wycliffe growled, staggering out the door.

“Well, that
was a joy. When do you suppose the Earl of Wycliffe will get his head out of
the bottle and heed his father’s wishes?” Lord Rutledge asked while taking the glass
from Avonlea’s hand.

“Never, at
the rate he is going. Wycliffe has a duty, and the only way he can get out of
this mess is with help.”

“Help? Stop
being
ludacris
, Avonlea. You should know it is every
man to his own at this point. There is too much going on right now, none would
dare meddle in personal affairs.”

“What are
you afraid of, Rutledge? That your own skeletons will come tumbling out of the servant’s
quarters?”

Rutledge,
whose portly belly stuck out more than a woman in confinement, stood and wagged
a fat finger in his face. “Listen here, you impertinent fool, I will not
tolerate your insolence.”

“Insolence?
You, my fat friend, will be one of the first pigs to be roasted on an open spit
for your negligence. Quite frankly, I think I will follow Wycliffe’s direction
and have a swig of some cheap vile from a hovel in one of London’s finest.” Avonlea
departed, leaving Rutledge and the other gentlemen to wager and gossip like
women.

Why does life have to be so black and white?
He had heard of Wycliffe’s attachment to the duchess, as others did, but to
think there really was more to the association. What if he and Emily were in
that situation? Married to other partners, but visiting each other secretly.
What a ruinous conundrum in which to be. To be besotted with someone who
happens to be married to another.

Not too long
ago, he had assisted Nathaniel, and now he would do the same for Wycliffe.
Why does it always fall on me?

He
walked down the cobblestone street until he reached a young lad in cut-off
pants. “I have a guinea with your name on it if you’ will tell me what
direction a tall, muscular man passed by. He has dark hair, though I doubt
anyone would notice given the hour it is. He is also wearing gentlemen’s
clothing much like myself, and he might have been mumbling. Did you see any man
of the sort?”

“’e
went that way, sir. He was grumbling like a mad man, something ’bout being
gipped a scotch at White’s and ‘
eaded
in the
direction of them fancy ladies. I think the establishment is called Martine’s.”

So
the bloke was headed for Martine’s place after all. It would not hurt to keep
an eye on him. The man clearly needed a release in the worst sort of way.
Well,
so do I, but every time I close my bloody peepers, all I can see is Emily.

The
earl reached into his pocket and handed the lost child his compensation. “Now,
run along home. There is no need for you to be out here for the rest of the
week with that sum.”

Beneath
scraggly hair kept untidily under a dingy cap, dark eyes peered back at him. “You
are mistaken, sir. My mum needs more than this to keep out of debtor’s prison.
But if you ever need anything else, this ’
ould
be my
corner.”

“Pray
tell, what is your name, child?”

“
M’name
is Percy.”

“After
your father, no doubt?”

The
child snorted. “
M’father
ran off with a whore in
Whitechapel, and his name sure as hell
ain’t
Percy.
He took off before I was born.”

Avonlea
surmised this was a common story from the slums of London. A tragedy really. Children
were the future of this country, and sadly, this one would be lucky if he made
it to twenty. “Either way, lad, stay out of trouble. Understood?”

“Yes,
sir!”

He treaded
through the
gaslit
,
cobblestone
street
until he happened upon the tallest house in the lane. He
approached the door when a lone, burly guard, who wore the stench of piss and
ale, blocked his entry.

“There
be a fee for late entry into this evening’s festivities, guvnor.”

“And
what would that be, sir?”

“A
guinea for entry and another for my silence.”

He
pondered a moment what the gent meant. If the oaf thought Charles was shackled
by marriage, then he was sadly mistaken. The day he took a wife was the day he
ensured the woman could handle him in every single way. “I will give you the
guinea for entry, sir, but nothing more.”

The
idiot grunted and held out his grimy hand while Avonlea dropped the note,
pushing him out of the way to enter the establishment. For a bawdy house,
Martine had gone out of her way to make the surroundings more like home. Men
were seated in lavish chairs, decorated in the finest fabric, while some of the
girls sat on their laps in nothing more than a silk robe, loosening their
cravats.