Page 18 of A Gentleman's Reckoning
He could not ask her that, though. His misfortune had changed him. Perhaps the man he once was would have done so, for he had always liked nothing more than attempting the outrageous. Besides that, he liked and respected Lady Eugenia too much to engage in anything like idle flirtation. If only he could know something of what she was thinking.
“Do you find it unpleasant that you must keep company with a man of my caliber?” he asked, instead.
She glanced at him, a crease between her brows. “No. That means nothing to me. A person is defined by their character, not by the title or situation they were born into.”
“And do you find my character…acceptable?” He smiled, but itwas only the barest tug at his lips. It was a nervous smile as he waited, breathless, for the answer.
This was a dangerous conversation, for it danced into the space of intimacy which was something he could not, at present, afford. Despite knowing this, he could not stop. Somehow, the dawning possibility of friendship, forbidden though it was, made him want to hope. She would not have given anything of herself if she didn’t like him, at least a little. He had gathered that right from their first meeting.
She turned in his direction and met his look with a perceptive one of her own. “You know very well I find your character acceptable—what I know of it at any rate. I would not be sitting here talking to you if I did not, for there are many other people I had hoped to talk to tonight.”
Her admission sobered him, even as it made his heart race with the implication. He could no longer stay silent.
“I should not say this, for it is most ridiculous coming from one who is beneath your notice, but…” He covered the tips of her fingers with his, and she looked up in surprise. “I find your character beautiful—and without equal.”
Lady Eugenia was fair and nothing could keep her blush from burning bright when something incited it. He found even that touching, and beautiful. He had never come close to experiencing anything like what he felt for this woman in so short a time. And he was not without experience in consorting with the fairer sex.
“That is a very kind thing to say.”
The music ended, and John had no choice but to help her to her feet. They stood unmoving for a moment before he came to his senses. “May I bring you to Miss Buxton?”
She nodded.
He was reluctant for their moment to end, but he had no choice in the matter. Even if he had still been society’s darling, he would have to limit his dances to two. However, instead ofattending her in her drawing room the next day—something he had never felt compelled to do when he lived as a gentleman, although he had accompanied friends who did—he would meet her at the asylum.
They reached the Buxtons, who both broke off from their conversation to smile at him and Lady Eugenia. He bowed a greeting to them, and then turned and bowed to her.
“Good evening, my lady.”
She nodded in reply, her smile warm and speaking, as though their relationship had grown in her eyes the same way it had in his. He turned and let out a silent exhale. He was in danger of losing his head over this woman, and he could not have settled on a more complicated choice if he tried.
The next morning,John was disappointed when Lady Eugenia did not come but thought that perhaps the fatigue of the night before had kept her home. When she still did not come in the afternoon, he began to doubt what he had been coming to view as the beginning of a mutual attachment. Such a connection was hopeless, of course. She was his social superior, and he was posing as a common man, not even a gentleman. Not only that—unbeknownst to her, he was trying to expose her father. Those facts alone should have doused any ardor or hopes he had in her direction, but they hadn’t. It was the first time he actually liked a woman enough to pursue her. Everything in him dictated that he put on blinders and not consider what complications the future might hold.
There was another cause for dissatisfaction. At the dinner party the night before, the hostess had introduced him to two men who had donated to the orphanage in its early days and had not done so since. He had been given a chance to ask them in quite a natural way whether they had enjoyed seeing thefruits of their investment. Both had seemed content with the way their donations had been handled and were proud to have contributed to the future of such a fine institution. Meanwhile, after a week of looking through old ledgers, he was getting nowhere with his attempt to expose fraud.
If there was any desire to give up, it was thwarted by the knowledge that this was his only chance to regain his standing in theton. That, and the fact that if he left now, he was not going to see Lady Eugenia again, for he would never cross her path at any society event. He would not be invited to the places she went to, and she was unlikely to attend a ball such as the one they had met at last night.
Lord Blackstone had given him an open invitation to return to the club if and when he wished to meet its members. He was just curious enough to see what sorts of members there were, and besides, he might be given a chance to dig a little more into Lord Blackstone’s identity. The viscount was eccentric, but he seemed to be extraordinarily well connected. Perhaps he would assist John in other ways than by simply procuring for him an invitation to a ball. Perhaps Blackstone would give him concrete information about Lord Goodwin. At the very least, he could see if such an opportunity arose.
This was how he found himself in front of the club at the close of day, when the lights were already lit inside. The bowl in the window had been replaced by a statue, which resembled an elk’s antlers. He looked at the other window, but this one had been curtained and there was no view inside. Grasping the crow’s head, he rapped at the door.
This time it was Sacks who answered the door, and he stared a minute before recognition dawned. Then, he smiled broadly. “Come in, Mr. Aubin. Come in. I am watching the door while Plockton is away. Lord Blackstone will be glad to see that you have returned.”
John handed Sacks his hat and coat with an irrationalmisgiving that the man was going to place it on the boar’s head mounted on the wall to his left. He did not. He opened a door that appeared to have a rack for such things, then led the way to Lord Blackstone’s office. When John did not follow him, he turned back.
“Are you coming? Did you want to see Lord Blackstone?”
“Yes,” John said, faltering. “I assumed you wanted to inform him of my visit first.”
“No need for that. He is in the drawing room with the other gentlemen. When he’s there, no need to announce you. You may go straight in.”
“I see.”
John trailed behind the servant, on edge to learn who the members of the club were. Sacks opened the door to the drawing room, and the men immediately in view stopped their conversation briefly to look at John. Then they turned back without a word. He should have felt uncomfortable, but it was rather nice not to be given particular notice, especially when this had not been positive in recent months.
“Mr. John Aubin,” Sacks announced to the room at large before retiring. There were a few murmured replies of welcome.
Armchairs and sofas were set out in various places throughout the room with small tables at each side for those who wished to read alone or sit together and talk. Lord Blackstone was in one of those chairs, deep in conversation.
