Page 4 of The Duke of Aces
Wembly Hall was a large venue, ideally located on the cusp of Mayfair. The hall could be used for any number of purposes, but for the past five years, it had been snatched up and sublet by the former bluestocking Lady Katherine. It had taken Tom nearly three years of investigation before he discovered who was responsible for securing the location for so long. Even after discovering Lady Katherine’s identity, it remained a mystery as to what occurred inside the building.
Doormen who usually were easily persuaded to share information for coin were extremely loyal and refused sums that would have taken them years to have earned. Only those who were admitted were privy to the purpose for which Lady Katherine leased Wembly Hall, and that is what frustrated Tom the most. He had failed to identify any of the attendees year after year. He had a number of theories as to who and what occurred behind the closed doors of the place, but without evidence, that is all they were, mere suppositions.
Tom picked up his cards once more and shuffled them, taking one from the bottom and slipping it in between the others, over and over. The familiar movements brought about a calmness in him. “Mayhap Mr. Wembly would consider leasing the venue to me. We could hold our weekly card game.”
Guernsey ’s eyebrows shot up. “You want to lease Wembley Hall?”
“No need to look at me as if I’ve lost all my senses.” Tom continued to shuffle his cards. The more he considered the idea, the more certain he was that it was a grand idea. Wembly Hall was the perfect space for him and his friends to partake in a little vice in private.
“The tightness of your jaw tells me you have already set your mind to the task. You shall have to be quick about things, for it is rumored Mr. Wembley is to meet with a lady early tomorrow morning.”
“Does this lady have a name?”
“I believe it’s the Ice Queen’s unmarried sister.” Guernsey studied his cards before him and continued to say, “The chit’s name escapes me. She’s rather quiet and…”
Before his friend could unintentionally make an offensive remark about the woman who had plagued Tom’s thoughts, he supplied her name, “Lady Isadora Malbury.”
“That’s the chit!” Guernsey paused, rearranging the cards in his hand, and glanced up at Tom. “Not that I should be surprised by your excellent recall ability, but are you even acquainted with the young lady?”
“Charlotte invited the Malburys to attend our house party this past summer.” Tom sighed as he confessed his errant sister’s behavior. “My dear younger sibling extended the invitation without discussing it with me first.” He had meant to press Charlotte for an explanation for her actions, but when he caught a glimpse of Lady Isadora descending from the travel coach, and their gazes locked, he quickly decided to let the matter go. Lady Isadora conducted herself with unparalleled poise, and when she caught him spying on her, Tom knew the woman instinctually possessed the skills of an agent.
Inhaling slowly to steady his suddenly racing heart, Tom reached for his drink and lifted it to his lips. The smooth aromatic brandy touched the tip of his tongue, and the image of Lady Isadora’s gentle curves flashed front and center.
Women rarely caught his attention for more than a few minutes, and he rarely spent more than an hour or two with them in private. However, he hadn’t managed to banish Lady Isadora from his mind after watching her carefully for the entire duration of her stay at Avondale.
He had caught Lady Isadora carefully observing the coming and goings of the house party guests numerous times and envied what appeared to be her innate ability to navigate through dinner each eve while seated between the most challenging members of theton.
Yes, Lady Isadora Malbury met every demand on his long list of qualities that he had determined the next Duchess of Avondale must possess. Unintrusive. Self-reliant. Skilled at conversation. Intelligent. Poised. Quick-witted. Honorable. Confident. Observant. Amenable. It had taken two weeks for him to witness the full extent of Lady Isadora’s skills. She had the ability to easily converse with others when necessary, but she also had the propensity to fade into the crowd undetected. While Lady Isadora appeared demure standing next to the other ladies, her eyes gave her away. She was full of life, ready to seek out adventure. She was simply in need of a guide. By the end of the house party, Tom had decided to seek the woman out this Season and court her.
Guernsey frowned and leaned forward to peer at his cards. “You must be mistaken. Sweet, innocent Charlotte wouldn’t dare disobey you. She absolutely adores you. Everyone knows that.”
“Trust me, I was as shocked as you to find out it was Charlotte who had extended the invitation to the Malbury sisters and their mama. However, I’m quickly coming to the realization she is not as sweet as one might think.”
His sister was to debut this Season, and despite the fact she had proven to be one of the most effective agents for the Crown at the tender age of eighteen, Charlotte believed she had not yet reached her full potential.
“Why would Charlotte do such a thing?”
It was an excellent question. One Tom should already know the answer to but didn’t. Frustrated at himself for having not taken the time to discover Charlotte’s reasoning.
He squinted at his cards that were now clenched in his hand. “As you know, my sister has a mind of her own. I simply have to trust that she not only chooses her acquaintances wisely but also her future husband.” Ready to end the evening early, Tom flipped over his pair of aces.
“Bloody hell, the Duke of Aces strikes again.” Guernsey mucked his cards. “Mark my words, you shall need to keep a close eye on your sister this Season, or you’ll certainly land yourself in hot water.”
A shiver of fear ran down Tom’s spine at the suggestion he meddle in Charlotte’s affairs. If he interfered in her coming and goings, Charlotte wouldn’t think twice about reciprocating the behavior. He didn’t need his little sister meddling in his life. Tom rose and buttoned his waistcoat.
Prepared to take his leave, Tom said, “I should retire for the evening, given I’m to rise early to head off Mr. Wembly’s meeting with Lady Isadora.”
Guernsey stood and picked up both his and Tom’s empty glasses. His friend trudged over to the sideboard. “Stay for one more drink. I wish to discuss one more matter that has been plaguing me for some time.”
Tom had noted that the worry lines forged along Guernsey’s forehead did appear slightly deeper in recent weeks. He sank back down into his seat. “Well, old chap, what has you foregoing sleep these days?”
Shoulders slightly slumped, his friend turned and sighed. “Over this past summer, I’ve been giving serious thought to the matter of my marital status. I’ve come to the conclusion I only have another five years before I become leg-shackled to some lady.” Guernsey returned to the card table and held out Tom’s refilled glass.
Tom accepted the beverage with a nod. “Five years, you say, why not ten?”
“While I’m not a master mathematician like you, Your Grace, I am capable of simple addition. In another five years, we will be a spry three-and-thirty. Another ten. Well, we might be a tad old to father a healthy heir. I’ve heard of men delaying too long and ended up not being able to…” Guernsey wagged his eyebrows and then continued, “You know…perform.”
While Tom didn’t disagree with his friend’s logic, he fell into the old habit of playing the role of the devil’s advocate. Raising his glass midway to his mouth, Tom paused. “Many a gentleman has sired an heir at the ripe old age of eight-and-thirty. You would not be the first nor the last to do so.” His gaze remained steady on Guernsey to gauge his friend’s response. When Guernsey didn’t rise to the bait, Tom continued, “I’ll confess, I, too, have given the matter of matrimony a great deal of thought this past summer.”
