Page 62 of A Gentleman's Reckoning
“It is just that I like him so much. I hadn’t the heart to say no when he came to propose to me. He was actually nervous, and I never see him nervous.” Her eyes twinkled. “I think that was what made up my mind.”
Geny sighed but accompanied it with a smile. At least somebody would have a happy ending. And she would not begrudge such a thing of a friend who had always been there for her. They drank their tea and spoke of wedding plans whenever Geny had her way. Margery, on the other hand, kept directing the conversation away from the subject, and she knew it was for fear of causing her pain.
When at last a silence fell, Margery studied her. “Did Mr. Aubin’s explanation enlighten you in the end? Do you think he is innocent of any matter of which he is accused?”
Geny looked down, remembering the conversation, and the pain she saw on his face. She said softly, “I think he was honest at least in his feelings for me.”
“Well, there is that at least.” Margery folded her hands and made her mouth into a straight line. “For that reason, I will refrain from despising him.”
Another silence fell, then Geny laughed suddenly.
“When we left the meeting room—both of us in the height of emotion—who should be standing there but Mr. Dowling,eavesdroppingon our entire conversation.”
Margery’s eyes widened as Geny continued, “And John floored him with one punch.”
“What?” Margery said, bringing her hand up to cover her laughter.
“He informed Mr. Dowling that should he hear any rumors concerning me or my family being spread about, he would invite Mr. Dowling to choose his weapon.”
Margery smiled broadly. “Nowthatis something I would love to have seen. Mr. Aubin may be a rake, but he knows how to be a gentleman.”
Chapter Twenty-One
John left London and headed north, leaving instructions for Owen to pack his things and bring them to the estate. As he climbed into his traveling coach for the fifth consecutive day, every miserable word of his conversation with Lady Geny came back to haunt him. The accusation that he had kissed her while he was attempting to expose her father was particularly galling for how true it was. She would have felt that to be the worst betrayal of all.
The pain of having her send him off scorched. It had been so final, mitigated only by his fury against Dowling which he had allowed vent to and which left his knuckles sore for two days. John clicked on the reins urging his rental team to pick up their pace.
There was nothing he could do to salvage his relationship with Lady Geny, and it left him with a raw ache. All that remained to him after that was to leave. London held no interest; the orphanage was off-limits. He no longer even cared all that much about regaining his reputation.
The decision to visit his brother had been a simple one sincehe could not bear to go to his newly acquired estate and had nowhere else to go. His brother lived in Mossley, West Riding—a trip of six days—and he halted for his last night in Cheshire, at an inn in the town of Cheadle. As he requested a room, John attempted to remember why the name of the town sounded so familiar. He must have come through here before when he visited his brother.
No!The realization of why came to him at once. Cheadle was where Barnsby’s estate was located, the man he had ruined. This fact he had learned in the aftermath of his card game when the rumor mills spread about just how much of a fortune John had stripped from the poor fellow.Well, John thought as he followed the innkeeper to his room,that is the nature of a card game. You know going into it that you will either win or lose.
Despite that resolution, he spent the evening over his solitary supper remembering the card game’s evolution. His mind brought forth the desperate look on Barnsby’s face when John won the last hand which separated him from the remainder of his fortune. It made him sick to think about it, which was probably why he generally chose not to. But with the other alternative being to think about Lady Geny, he allowed his mind to dwell on the unwisdom of his conduct, replaying the events of the card game over and over. By the time morning arrived, he had reached a decision.
When he went to pay his shot, he decided to try and see what the innkeeper knew.
“I am looking for an estate in Cheadle owned by a man named Barnsby. Do you know of it?” A sudden, desperate hope shot through him that he would not be informed that Barnsby had been forced to sell.
“Ay, that I do. It is not three miles from here. You’ll want to take the road past Gatley. Stick to the main road until you cross the Mersey River—there’s an old stone bridge—and take the path on your right. The estate’s at the end of it.”
“I am much obliged.” John went outside where a stable hand stood at the head of his lead horse. He climbed in and gave the pair a signal to start forward in the direction the innkeeper had indicated.
John did not know what sort of reception he would receive there, but he had decided on his course. He knew the financials of his estate well and had come to the conclusion that he could return the money to Barnsby without in any way reducing the funds needed for his own estate, although it would require two years of sober living. Given his current situation, that would not be a hardship.
Besides, he had hardly spent any of his winnings from that night, having fallen out of society within weeks of the event. He directed his horse over the stone bridge and followed the shady path on the other side that led to the estate. When he pulled up, a servant came from around the house to hold the reins for him while he went up to the door and knocked. After some time, another servant came to the door and asked him to state his business.
John handed the man his card with the name of Mr. John Rowles. He had had the notion on his ride over that a card bearing the name “Mr. Aubin” would likely have him turned away without being granted an audience.
“Tell him that we met in London.”
“Very well, sir. Please wait, and I will see if he will receive you.”
The servant went down the large corridor, and John looked at his surroundings. The hall was shabby, but not as decrepit as he might have imagined. In fact, the estate did not seem to be in terrible disrepair, and there were at least two servants. This was a consolation. If he had truly destroyed the man’s fortune, such a thing would not be possible. He would still give the money back, but he was relieved that Barnsby had not suffered great want in the months since.
“Follow me, sir.”
The servant moved forward, and John fell in behind him until he was shown into a study. Inside, Barnsby was standing next to his desk, and he looked up when John stepped in. His mouth gaped open in shock.
