Page 3 of Falling for a Forsaken Marquess
“I don’t think I wish to say anything at this point,” said Martin, his lips thinning. “I should let you deal with the matter as it comes.”
“Do not be so petty, Marty. Not everything can be planned to the letter, and I am sorry for being a little late. What do you have to tell me?”
Martin’s jaw worked as he stared William down, or perhaps it was correct to say up as the latter man was an inch taller.
“Very well,” he eventually said. “You’re in danger of being thrown out of the club due to your continued flouting of the rules. I’ve warned you many times to adhere to what has been set out in our booklets, but you’re too stubborn to listen.”
William couldn’t say he was surprised. Indeed, he had seen it coming. He didn’t disregard rules; he just had bad luck when it came to following them. The club failed to consider that he had a life outside of the club and expected him to jump to attention whenever they desired it.
William had grown accustomed to paying fines for various reasons like not turning up in uniform, not going to a meeting, missing target days, snubbing society dinners, or forgetting his medals at home. His annual bill to the society, counting his fines as well, usually added up to eighteen pounds, a fortune for others as it could buy a horse or cover the wages of a skilled worker.
“Have you listened to a word I’ve said?” Martin asked, breaking into his thoughts.
“I have, and I have nothing to say about it,” said William with a shrug. “Let them remove me from the membership.”
Martin let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his brow. “You’re one of our best archers, Will. Letting you go would be like shooting off our noses to spite our faces. It makes no sense at all, but this is also your fault. I cannot keep speaking up for you and covering your misdeeds with the other members.
I’m the vice president, for heaven’s sake! I have a responsibility to the society, including disciplining our members and ensuring wins at tournaments with other clubs. I can’t do both if you keep defying our rules. At least you’re wearing the white waistcoat and breeches, but where are the buttons?”
William felt somewhat apologetic about putting his best friend in a difficult position. Having Martin’s father as the president and being the vice president had expectations, but William wasn’t making it any easier on his friend. Looking down at his waistcoat, William noted he had forgotten to wear the gold buttons, gold loop, and dark blue feather. It was their differentiating feature from other societies. They also had a headpiece worn only on special occasions like dinners and balls.
“Come, come now,” said William. “I’m under a lot of stress, which is the very reason why I decided to come here. I would have skipped this meeting if not for my need to avoid my mother.”
Martin rolled his eyes. “Very well, but keep your arms in front of you as much as possible, and stay at the back where Father and the secretary cannot see you. They’re discussing your fate after the meeting.”
“I cannot wait,” said William sarcastically.
Martin looked heavenward and began marching forward, weaving through a group of men ahead of him. William followed with his horse, handing the thoroughbred to a footman at the club’s gate.
The society had its own stables and a building that took up most of the street on one side. Its white-painted stucco facade and main front door framed by two columns were no different from the other buildings, but once one stepped inside, the many paintings, busts, and rooms let a person know they were indeed in an archery society.
William entered the place moments later, greeting the servant at the doorway who ushered him into a room to store his outer garments before heading into the main hall where Martin was seated.
“You must be sorely vexed to leave me behind,” said William, sitting beside him.
“I’m frustrated— there’s a difference. I do not think you understand the consequences of your actions, Will. You may be a marquess, but you are not above the rules.”
“I would be the first to understand that,” William insisted. “I’m not as mindful as you are, Marty. I focus on other matters that require my immediate attention. Unfortunately, this club comes last.”
“Yes, that much is evident. Well, you’re in luck at the moment as the meeting has been postponed. Father had a sudden situation to attend to.”
“So your father is given a pardon because he is the president, but the rest of us must be fined?” William asked. “Do you see the disparity? The discriminatory treatment? Your father should be upholding the rules, yet he is the one breaking them. How can anyone point the finger at me?”
Martin rubbed his forehead, a habitual gesture that communicated his distress or frustration.
“Let’s not discuss this right now,” the man begged. “I’ve had enough troubles this week with tournament cancellations and the influx of people wishing to join the club.”
“That is perfectly fine with me,” said William, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankle as he observed the other members of the club.
A few of their friends joined them shortly afterward, discussing their plans for the upcoming hunting season.
“My parents wish to host a ball and call it the Glorious Twelfth of August,” said Jeremy Potter, an old school friend. “It’s not an original name, but it fits the purpose.”
“They’ll be in competition with other people who wish to do the same thing,” said William. “Everyone wants to be known as the people who officially ended the London Season and started the shooting season with a ball.”
“By everyone, do you mean your parents?” Jeremy questioned.
William shook his head. “Not at all. They wish to have a winter ball in December and host several events throughout the season.”
