Page 68 of A Gentleman's Reckoning
Geny did not answer—she could not. It seemed nothing in her life could possibly be any bleaker, and she was grateful to have at least one true friend.
An unusually long silence settled between them—longer than ever occurred when they were together. After a while, Margery started wiggling her foot in its slipper, a sign that she had something else to say.
“What is it?” Geny asked. She needed the distraction, and it surely could not be anything worse than what she had heard so far.
“Mr. Thompson said that Mr. Aubin has returned to London. He ran into him by chance.”
Geny looked at her in surprise, irritated at the darts of happiness that poked at her from the news. “Where did they meet?”
“On St. James’s Street. Apparently there is a club there by the name of Blackstone’s.” Margery had a gleam of humor in her eyes, adding, “Mr. Thompson learned that it is a club formembers who have been blackballed from the other more prestigious ones.”
“Such a club exists?” Geny asked. “I have never heard of it.”
“I imagine it is not the sort of thing that its members spread about. Anyway, Mr. Thompson saw him about to enter, and because they recognized each other, they stopped to exchange civilities. I think…I think Mr. Thompson greeted him first, because he knows of his connection with the asylum—and you.”
She glanced at Geny as though wishing to reassure her. “Of course he was ever so discreet, so you needn’t worry that he would say anything of a confidential nature. Anyway, Mr. Aubin said that he had just returned to London the day before and was renting a room in the club, for he would not be staying in London for long. Then they bid farewell. Mr. Thompson said it was the extent of their conversation.”
Geny pondered this for a moment, then slid her hand over to clasp Margery’s. “John had traveled north. I know this only because he went to visit the mill that my father is having built, and they met there, also by chance. That is how he learned that Mr. Aubin and I are acquainted.” She knew that she was using John’s Christian and family name interchangeably, which she did even in her mind, depending on how angry or nostalgic she was feeling. She supposed it revealed like nothing else the changing nature of their relationship.
“And what did your father say of the meeting?” Margery eyed her intently. Geny felt it and lifted her eyes to meet her gaze.
“Father told me that Mr. Aubin said that he loved me.”
It seemed impossible to move after confessing out loud the very thing that had spun around in her mind over and over. If she’d had any pride, she should be hurt and disgusted and wish for nothing to do with him—not when he had been deceitful with her. Not when he had kissed her without being in a position to offerfor her. Yet the fact that he had boldly declared his feelings to her father seemed to make those earlier sins diminish, as though they were nothing. And she could not deny that she still loved him back. She bit her lip, musing over how hopeless it all was.
Margery drew a deep breath and sat upright. “I fear I am about to be a bit managing and tell you what to do.”
Geny looked at her expectantly. For once it would be nice if someone did that—especially if it brought her to a happy ending.
“Mr. Aubin will never seek you out after you have specifically told him that you did not wish to see him again. But I am not so sure you should give up so easily, for I know your heart is already lost to him. What we must do is have my Mr. Thompson send him an invitation requesting that they meet on a matter of importance.” She sent Geny a bracing look. “And you must be there when he comes. Then, if your relationship is meant to be, it is meant to be.”
Geny felt as though her pride should dictate an absolute refusal. At the very least, she should give it long and hard consideration before capitulating. After all, he had behaved abominably toward her, and she should categorically refuse to see him.
But she could not. Not when she so desperately wanted to see him. Not when it felt a little bit like a resurrection.
Chapter Twenty-Four
John headed back toward his rented room in Blackstone’s that afternoon, after having paid a necessary trip to his counting house. He was steps away from it when he felt someone bump into him from behind. He turned, angry at the gesture, only to pull back in surprise. It was Lord Stuart, his friend from those earlier days in society—the one who had been with him when he won the card game against Barnsby.
“Is this where you’ve been all this time?” Lord Stuart asked, wearing his usual sardonic smile.
John was confused by the greeting and that Stuart was addressing him at all. He responded stiffly, “I am surprised that you stopped to greet me.”
“If you are, it shows how little well you know me.” At John’s baffled expression, the look on Stuart’s face grew exasperated. “I go to my hunting box for a few weeks and come back to find you cast out of society, with no one capable of telling me where you went.”
It was true John had not divulged, even to his closest friends, that his brother had left an estate to him. He had alwaysremained circumspect about his situation. His friends knew only that he had enough blunt to keep up with them, and that was all they cared about.
“After Theo and Fernsby gave me the cut, I could not help but draw the same conclusion about you.”
Stuart lifted his eyes upward. “If all of our years together have not taught you not to lump me in with those fellows, then there is nothing more to be done with you.”
He met John’s look with a smile, then glanced behind him. “I am not so fickle a friend as to give you the cut direct without at least trying to hear what you have to say to the rumors made against you. I have not moved, so come see me when you have some time, will you?”
John finally emerged from his daze and reached out to shake Stuart’s hand, amazed and touched that he, of all people, had remained loyal.
“I will. Thank you.”
Stuart lifted a hand and waved as he turned back to where he had come from, and John entered the club with much to think about. He would never again judge a person without giving them a chance.
