Page 2 of My Wicked Earl
“Are you familiar with Lord Wently?” Colin pretended to study the amber liquid in his glass.
“Wently? Do you have an invention to share or perhaps you’ve written a treatise on sheep farming? While he is still funding the restoration of some Grecian marbles, marbles I’m quite sure will be shown to be fakes, I’m told he has thrown his weight behind William Howell and they’ve started a publishing house. Howell is the author of those lurid novels involving murder and young innocent ladies. Arabella is quite addicted to them, I fear.”
“Your sister has always been rather bloodthirsty.” Colin sipped at his drink trying to appear nonchalant.
Nick’s eyes slid over him with a look meant to force Colin to give up all of his secrets. “What are you up to Hartley?”
“I may have a proposition for Lord Wently, though I need an introduction.”
Nick held his glass up, pretending to study the amber liquid. “I’m not acquainted with Lord Wently, although Lord Robert Cambourne is his close friend.” Nick shot him a speculative look. “But, I’m sure you knew that having spent so much time with the Cambourne family at Gray Covington. Perhaps that’s why you’ve come to London?”
“Possibly.”
“Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?” Nick said. “I may be able to help.”
The last thing Colin wanted to do was explain his reasons for seeking an introduction. In addition to picking apart a person’s life, Nick had a terrible habit of rearranging other’s lives in a manner Nick thought would suit them best. The results were often mixed.
“I was hoping to beg an introduction to Lord Wently from the Marquess but I understood Lord Cambourne was not in town at the moment.”
“Well, not presently. But, as it happens, the Marquess of Cambourne is scheduled to make an appearance at my grandfather’s ball tomorrow night, as is most of theton. He would be delighted to see you, I’m sure. Cam’s father was quite fond of you. Lord Cambourne is a man whose opinion I trust. Much more of a father to me than my own sire. I’ve often sought his advice, when I didn’t wish my grandfather’s.”
Before Colin could respond, a harsh whisper drew his attention. A large man, his round form barely squeezed into the poor chair on which he sat, glared at Colin and Nick, while relating something to his companion. The fleshy face burned red with outrage as the beady eyes looked over an upturned nose at Colin.
He looks like an enraged pig.
Mr. Pig’s companion was just the opposite, all sharp angles with a chin that looked as if it could cut through cheese.Thisgentleman was a bit more reserved in his perusal, only nodding in agreement with each word his friend spoke.
“What do you think,” Colin waved his glass of whiskey towards Mr. Pig, “that we have done to offend those two? Possibly we attended Eton with their sons and our reputation as the Wickeds precedes us.”
“Humph.” Nick regarded the men with hooded eyes. “I cannot fathom why such a ridiculous nickname has stuck so soundly over the years all because the three of us managed to encounter some old gypsy in the woods. Though, at the time I did appreciate her gracing us as such, for it was a useful tool in keeping the spoiled brats at Eton from threatening us with their fists.”
“You mean threatening Cam and I,” Colin corrected him. “No one dared go after you.” Colin waved his hand over Nick’s large frame. “Too bloody big.” He nodded towards the men. “Probably my father owes them money. If so they will need to look elsewhere for recompense. Do you see that the large one resembles a wild boar of some sort?”
Nick’s lips twisted into a grimace. “It’s me.” The words left his lips in a quiet hiss. “It’salwaysme.”
Colin sipped his drink. “Oh yes,that. Sometimes I forget you’re the bloody Devil of Dunbar. I for one shiver in my boots every time I am in your company. You’re terrifying,” Colin pretended to tremble in fright.
Nick stayed silent, only sipping at his whiskey.
“Nick,” Colin apologized, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made light of such a thing.”
“It’s of no import.”
“I’m certain no one still thinks on the rumors. The war has been over for a very long time.”
Accusations of theft and treason, though unproven, still cast a shadow upon the Dunbar family. Nick’s father, Phillip, had taken his own life over the false accusations, as well as that of Nick’s mother.
“You’d be surprised. The deaths of my parents didn’t actually absolve them of the act my father was accused of. Most view it as proof of his guilt. I still find it baffling. Anyone that knew my father personally knew he was too much of a drunkard to pull off such a complex scheme.” Nick’s eyes grew hollow and cold. “Someday I will find the person who is truly guilty. Neither they nor their family will be safe from the Devil of Dunbar. The Dunbars serve the Crown.”
It was a phrase Colin had often heard repeated while he attended Eton with Nick.‘The Dunbar’s serve the Crown.’ His gaze fell to his friend’s large hands, the knuckles covered with scars and bruises. He’d never asked Nickhowexactly the Dunbars served the Crown. Probably better off not knowing.
“The actions of my parents,” Nick waved a hand in front of his mismatched eyes, “and these, are enough to make me a bit of a pariah. Were thetonnot all afraid of Dunbar, I’m certain I would be hunted down with pitchforks and set aflame. Look at him,” Nick lifted his chin to the quivering servant who stood to the left of their chairs. “He can barely hold his tray he’s shaking so badly.”
At Nick’s perusal, the servant paled and blinked.
“My family is a founding member of this bloody club, so you’d think at the veryleastI would be waited on by someone who isn’t trembling like a virgin on her wedding night.” His friend sounded more amused than angry now and Colin relaxed.
“Well, youarethe Devil, Nick.” Colin chuckled taking the sting out of his words. The whiskey was going to his head. How long had they sat at Hastings drinking? No more than an hour. His eyes fell to the nearly empty bottle sitting on the table next to Nick’s knee.Well, possibly more than an hour.
