The Hunt Club Chronicles Bundle (16 page)

Somewhere in all that, Aiden supposed he should have provided a response. But the vast outpouring of words stirred his curiosity. Did Josephine truly want her son to gain the title so badly that she dissuaded
all
women from pursuing him?
He couldn’t be sorry for it.
At the moment, their attitudes toward the marriageable misses of society aligned perfectly. Although Josephine's behavior often perplexed him, he shrugged it off. “What did you wish to see me about?”

“I, ah, well—I received an invitation to attend the Hunt Club today. I was hoping you would be willing to accompany me and somehow avoid revealing our destination to my mother.”

Aiden's eyebrows rose in surprise at the invitation. He hadn't expected Robert to gain entry to the Hunt Club until he was a few years older. “
Staines
invited you?”

Robert nodded vigorously as he reached for the letter in his coat pocket. When Aiden saw the tell-tale green sealing wax and insignia pressed upon it, he waved the letter away. He didn't see the contents, each invitation was exactly alike.

“He's a friend of yours, isn't he?” Robert hid the invitation quickly, shifting in his chair anxiously. “A very good friend?”

Aiden nodded. The Duke of Staines ruled his private gentlemen's club with an iron fist. But that rare invitation to join would set the boy, heir to the Lewes ducal estate and title, firmly among the leaders of the
ton
. He'd have to buy
Staines
more than one case of brandy in thanks for the unexpected gift. “Tonight?”

“Yes. If you are free, that is.” Robert glanced toward the door. “Is the invitation for all parts of the house?”

“
Staines
doesn't offer half invitations.” He thought a moment. “Oh, you wish for private entertainment as well?” When Robert blushed scarlet, it was Aiden’s turn to shift uncomfortably in his chair. “Those types of rendezvous require merely a nod to the major domo on arrival.”

Robert jumped to his feet, a wide grin revealing his excitement. “Thank you, Your Grace. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

Although Aiden nodded as Robert went on his way—a jaunty hitch to his step—Aiden’s dark thoughts crushed him. Very soon Robert would sink or swim because Aiden couldn't exist in this wasteland man called society. Certainly not for much longer.

He slid the drawer of his desk open and stared at his dueling pistol.

Not yet.

But soon.

Chapter Two

London
thrummed with the pulsing vitality of a great beast and Terrance Bridgewater breathed deep the swirling currents of corruption and excessive vice flooding the city. He glanced left and right along the bustling street, content but excited by his return home to familiar surroundings. He’d been buried in respectable countryside far too long.

Now that he had left the vicinity of the coaching house, he patted his coat pocket. It was good to know he hadn’t lost his skill at picking the occasional pocket. The cull had had it coming. Five jabs to the ribs with his elbow had not made Terrance warm to him on the long journey from
Grantley
Park
, his last place of employment, to
London
. But the final indignity was the foul breath that had wafted over him time and again as his seat partner sought to claim even more space on the bench.

He'd come very close to losing his temper, yet he'd hesitated to teach the man his proper place in the world. Perhaps it was the sweet old woman sleeping opposite, or the fresh-faced girl practicing her coy smiles beside her, or maybe it had been the wide-eyed, impressionable youth sitting opposite him that held him back. No one had the right to impose on him. Yet Terrance had hesitated for fear of upsetting the carriage occupants sitting closest.

With a wry grin at his brief moment of soft-heartedness, Terrance tossed the wallet to a grubby-faced urchin. He had no need for the funds contained within. Not now. The sandy-haired boy stared at him, then at the wallet. But every street thief worth his salt knew when life couldn't get any better than having fate smile upon them. The scamp turned tail between two houses and disappeared as fast as his legs could carry him. Terrance smiled, thinking how the lad reminded him of the boy he used to be—desperate and not too proud to beg for hard coin. He'd lived by his wits, and the speed God had given him in order to survive life in the gutters.

Terrance hurried along
Mill Street
, counting house numbers until he found his destination. Once there, he stopped still to admire the Duke of Byworth’s second
London
residence. Three impressively understated stories, and all at his disposal for the duration of his stay. Again, he experienced a twinge of unease at accepting the duke’s generous offer of accommodation. But as Byworth had bluntly put it, Terrance staying here would keep Henry, Terrance’s oldest and closest friend, and Byworth’s lover, from fretting over his welfare.

The duke’s unexpected concern for Henry’s feelings had completely thrown Terrance’s opinion of their association to the four winds. Byworth shouldn’t care less about his lover’s friend after he left his employ, or even during it. But Byworth was adamant about Terrance staying here and had even made him promise to send Henry a regular correspondence—especially when he left
England
.

Smiling at the adventure to come, Terrance hurried to the front door of number six,
Mill Street
and rapped the lion-head knocker.

After a long wait, the door creaked open. “Yes?”

Terrance smiled and handed over his letter of introduction to the old butler. “Good afternoon, you must be Finnegan. I have a note here from the Duke of Byworth.”

The old man’s expression grew worried. “He’s not unwell, is he?”

Terrance smiled and shuffled on the front step. “The duke is in excellent health, as is everyone from the Park. I’ve just come from the estate, actually.”

Finnegan glanced at the note, and then the baggage at Terrance’s feet, lips firming with indecision.

Terrance could well understand his dilemma. Byworth had explained the house contained few staff and those here were somewhat aged. If he were an old man, he too would hesitate before letting a young, strapping stranger inside. “I’ll wait here in the sunshine until you read the note.”

The door shut quickly in his face.

At least Byworth had warned him of the quirks of his third household. He’d have to thank him for that. Under normal circumstances, the disrespect would have itched under his skin and ruined his adventure. He could not wait to reacquaint himself with
London
and then head south for passage on a ship. He was bound for the continent as soon as he gathered supplies and booked passage.

While he waited, Terrance glanced left and right along the street. A neat location, kept in good order and likely to be careful to lock their windows against
midnight
thieves. He rolled his eyes at his own thoughts. An hour in
London
and he was ready to slip into his former life as a petty criminal. But he didn’t have to steal to survive anymore. He had more than enough funds to support himself for several years of travel, even if he never took on another tutoring position.

Although he’d saved every penny he could, Byworth had slipped him enough funds that even his brows had raised. And all under the condition that he simply write. Terrance had never met another man to be so generous without expecting something in return. Yet the Duke of Byworth had never propositioned him. He had Henry to warm his nights and seemed in no way dissatisfied with the exclusive arrangement.

Luck had finally smiled down upon his friend.

Not bad for a pickpocket and former whore.

He peered down the street again as a flicker of movement low to the ground beside a fence caught his eye. But whatever, or whoever, it was disappeared quickly from sight. He frowned. Had his momentary weakness with the bulging wallet and homeless boy set him up to be followed? He didn’t care for that at all.

The door creaked behind his back. “Come in, Mr. Bridgewater. Do excuse my caution. One can never be too careful these days.”

Terrance took his hat from his head and stepped through the door. As soon as he glanced around, he clenched the hat tightly at the careless wealth lying around him, begging to be taken. “I’d be worried too.” And indeed he was. The house—an ostentatious display that the owner had more money than sense—called to him. He wanted this house and everything in it.

“It’s just me and the missus here at the moment. We have a maid of all work come in most days, but her head’s full of fever and she’s lying abed. Can I take your things?”

Terrance looked over the older man’s frail appearance. “I can manage. If you’d care to show me to a room, I’ll get out of your way. I’d not like to make trouble for you.”

The butler gave him a queer look. “Wouldn’t you like a tour of your house?”

Terrance blinked. “Did you just say ‘my’ house?”

Finnegan smiled. “We always knew this day would come, sir. It’s been many a year since the house had a master in residence. I expect the Duke and Duchess have settled things between them.”

Terrance closed his eyes as a wave of shock swept over him. Now this was unexpected and far too much. Byworth couldn’t give away a bloody house, too. The old man must have misunderstood. He held out his hand. “May I see the note?”

The old man shrugged and passed it over.

The bold handwriting glared at him. In two short sentences, Byworth explained that the house had a new master. Him. As thanks for services rendered, Terrance Bridgewater would reside here for the rest of his life. He closed his eyes.
Bloody wastrel
. It was a good thing that Henry had only one close friend. If Henry had more, his lover would have empty coffers before he’d gained sense.

Terrance had never understood peers. They had all the money, all the power, yet often stuck their noses, and other parts, in places they shouldn’t tread. Like Lewes.

Terrance gritted his teeth as the image of the Duke of Lewes came unbidden to his mind. He wasn’t going to think about that blasted duke for one more minute of his life.

“Ah, yes. I’d forgotten all about his generous gift.” There was no point having the butler question the situation too closely. Terrance looked about him again. Although Byworth’s generosity stunned him, he’d be a fool not to take the house. The place appealed to him immensely.

“Perhaps you’d like a tour now?”

“Of course.”

Terrance followed behind the slow moving butler as he was shown his new accommodations. Drawing room, morning room, study, a library that made his fingers itch, a small rear garden that would be pleasant should he step out of doors to read.

Unfortunately, the butler was wheezing as they reached the upper floor. Concerned, but unwilling to show it, Terrance stopped to examine a fine landscape so the butler could have an excuse to catch his breath. “This is very fine.”

“Yes, it is. The house boasts quite a few pretty paintings like that,” Finnegan gasped. “The duke was always sending things along when the house last had a resident.”

Terrance frowned at the second reference to the house’s unused state. “When exactly was that?”

Finnegan mopped his brow. “Oh, going on three years now. The duke removed to the country and hasn’t returned to
London
for any length of time since.”