Page 116 of A Gentleman's Wager
Lucerne allowed him to stew a few moments, convinced that the tale would spill out soon enough. Sure enough, his silence was swiftly rewarded.
“Very well,” Vaughan began, “since you are so determined to delve to the roots of this. I commandeered his date at some poxy military ball. One could hardly blame me. She was the only diamond there, and he’d left her stranded with some withered old stick so that he could discuss tactics with his superiors. I gave her a very good time.”
Lucerne shook his head unable to suppress a smile. It was all entirely too predictable, and while likely a truth, perhaps not the whole of it. “Who was the woman?”
“Miss Phillipa Farringdon, if I remember correctly. It has been a while. I suppose he didn’t take too kindly to losing his companion, but he had no right to expect anything else. She was a beauty, and every eligible bachelor in Vienna was there. It was hardly necessary to have me arrested.”
“You think he overreacted?”
“I only asked her to dance.”
Lucerne clapped a hand to his brow. “No…no. You cannot expect me to believe that. I know you far too well. When did you ever only dance with a woman? If you take one about the floor, then you take her afterwards too. Thus, I’m sure you gave him plenty of reason to retaliate. Perhaps not to the extent of having you arrested, but…” He shook his head. “Actually, I remember Miss Farringdon. She spent a Season in London before going to Austria with her father, and I recall that Freddy was rather smitten. She was much like Louisa, in character if not colouring.”
No wonder the captain had despaired over Vaughan’s arrival and made such a fuss of that business at the ball. Although, it was in the back of Lucerne’s mind that the animosity between them stretched way further back than the coalition against France.
“I bumped into her last autumn. She’s wed now, a portly chap, attached to the Admiralty and much away. I found her rather charming until I discovered she’s four other danglers.”
Vaughan snorted. “Not terribly like Miss Stanley, then.”
Lucerne frowned, but his expression only made Vaughan shrug.
“He thinks I’m the great corrupter. I think he’s an idiot and a cad. I do despise those who insist on lying to themselves.”
“Might you not let it go?” Lucerne asked, finding himself unaccountably irritated that the pair of them couldn’t get on. “You’ve had your revenge, probably made him far more miserable these past weeks than you were during your night in a cell.”
“Possibly, though it was deuced unpleasant.”
“Vaughan.” He sat forward. “It’s not as if I’m demanding you be friends.”
“That is good, for he is dull, and I’m immoral.”
“Could you at least not wage war against one another?”
Vaughan turned his attention to pouring some port. He swirled the liquid around his glass before sipping it. “For you, I will consider it. However, you may wish to confer with Miss Stanley before you do anything so dumb as to invite him to return to Lauwine.”
Lucerne had not entirely forgotten about that business, though he wondered how Vaughan knew of it. He had not passed on a thing of what Bella had told him of the women’s wretched visit to Richmond. Perhaps Vaughan had heard it straight from Louisa herself.
“Tis all rather a shame, you have to admit,” he mused. “If his finances were only a little more robust… They are suited in every other way, don’t you think?”
“I rather think she’s more concerned by his lack of fidelity than his blunt.”
“Well, thanks to you, there’s arguments to be had about that on both sides.”
Vaughan simply blinked and swallowed more port, like he hadn’t deflowered the girl.
Lucerne picked up a glass and held it out. Pickling his innards with port seemed the natural thing to do whenever discord arose. “I don’t suppose you’ll forgive Charles his debt for this vulgar wager of yours?”
Vaughan snorted. “Why the devil would I do that? While the intention, at least on my part, was primarily to rile the captain, the outcome is decidedly about money. If Aubury cannot cough up for his debts, then he ought to put more thought into shaking on things.”
It was a sentiment that was hard to argue with, given Lucerne had made that point to Charles repeatedly himself. “Just how much does he owe you?”
Vaughan tapped his index finger to his full red lips. “As if he has not told you a dozen times over; several of them on his knees, I imagine.”
He had, but Lucerne had not paid particular attention to the sum. His answer to Charles’s pleading was not determined by the sum, more the principle.
“Vaughan, it’s not as if you need the money.”
“That is hardly the point, so please, defer from making an appeal to my better nature, you know I am without one.”
