Page 69 of A Gentleman's Reckoning
Blackstone’s was bustling with life. It had been surprisingly easy to settle into the rhythm here, and although he had planned to stay for only a couple of days, he found himself in no hurry to rush off again. The room was comfortable, the dinner excellent, and he had even grown accustomed to the beady eyes at every turn from all the animals that had been frozen in time. He greeted two members in the hallway as he headed to the drawing room and there chose an empty seat.
Harry was shuffling a deck of cards, though he was not at a table where a game could be played.
“Aubin, you must be pleased about what happened to Lord Goodwin.”
“What’s that?” John turned to him in surprise. He hadn’theard anything regarding the earl. At least nothing that had been reported inThe Gazetteyet. Not even Stuart had said anything, but perhaps he thought John knew.
“His Grace, the Duke of Rigsby let everyone know that the earl’s investments for the asylum and for some mill up north were all a scam. Or rather, he said the project had begun, but he was instead pouring the investments into some risky revolutionary bonds in South America.”
Harry looked around and saw that he had an audience. “Such a venture might have been lucrative—it has been in the United Provinces—except that the revolutionary army in Brazil suffered a defeat at the hands of the Spanish, which means he lost all of the funds. Everything.” He folded his arms as a man satisfied. “Now thebeau mondeis furious, as you might imagine. He won’t be able to show his face anywhere. News has it he’s gone to his estate in Windsor.”
John was silent, too surprised for words by the turn of the events.
“I suppose he’ll be blackballed next. Think he’ll become a member here?” That humorous remark was from Sebastian Drake.
John tried to follow, but it seemed his mind had turned sluggish. “How did the Duke of Rigsby find out about the bonds?”
Sir Humphrey was seated nearby reading, and he put down the newspaper to look over it. “From Lord Blackstone. I discovered the problem with the mill—as I said, I’ve been following Goodwin closely. Lord Blackstone learned of the revolutionary bonds, and he was the one who informed the duke of the connection between the two.”
“I see.”
John was glad of one thing. Other investors would no longer be so easily taken in. It was for this reason that it was best that Lord Goodwin’s actions had been made public. But he mourned for Lady Geny. With her father in disgrace, how would shecarry on? And what about her brother? John feared she would bury herself in loneliness in her London house, only going out to visit the orphanage. He pictured her growing more and more reclusive until the smile had left her face completely. This dismal image stole any satisfaction he might otherwise feel, and he was powerless to save her from it. Because of his deception, he had lost the right to love and protect her.
“A message has come for you, Aubin.” Plockton entered the room carrying a silver platter with a sealed note on it. “’Twas delivered by messenger, and he’s waiting for your answer.”
John opened the letter and skimmed its contents, lifting a brow in surprise. The note was from Mr. Thompson, requesting John’s presence to discuss a matter of some urgency. He was inviting him that very afternoon if he was available. John looked up at Plockton as though he might possess the answer to this mystery. What could be so urgent when they hardly knew each other and had seen each other the day before? He would accept the invitation, of course.
“Inform the messenger that I will be there in an hour or so.”
Plockton went off to do his bidding. After a moment’s reflection, John decided it must be related to the earl’s disgrace, particularly since Mr. Thompson had donated money to the orphanage. Perhaps he wished to ask John how to retrieve his donation, thinking that he might have some advice since he used to work there. John wasn’t sure he could satisfy him, but he would do his best.
An hour later, he stood outside a Palladian-style home, admiring how magnificent it was for a merchant who was still living as a bachelor. If he had thought about it at all, he had been expecting something much more modest.
The servant admitted him right away, saying he was expected. Without requiring John to wait, he led him to the drawing room and stepped back to allow John to enter. He did so as Mr. Thompson strode forward to shake his hand.
“Thank you for coming to meet me.”
“It is nothing,” John replied. He looked around the spacious drawing room with curiosity, noticing how tastefully it was decorated—again for the home of a bachelor. This appreciative regard came to a halt by the sudden appearance of Lady Geny rising from the sofa. The shock of seeing her there stunned him, then angered him. He turned his face to glare at Mr. Thompson before returning his gaze to her.
“My lady, I must ask what you are doing in the home of a man still living as a bachelor?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. Then the truth fell on him at once, and he took a step back, the air temporarily knocked from his lungs. “You have an understanding? Is that it?”
Movement from the right caught his eye, and he turned to it. Miss Buxton had been standing unnoticed by the window, and she now walked over to where he stood and curtsied.
“This is my home, Mr. Aubin—my parents’ home—and you are most welcome to it. You could not know this, since we have not made it public, but Mr. Thompson and I are betrothed.” She touched her fiancé on the arm. “And now, he and I have a few things to discuss for our wedding in a couple of months. If we are not needed, we will retire to the library.”
Mr. Thompson looked at him ruefully. “Forgive me for the deceit. I trusted my fiancée that this meeting was what you would have wished for. I hope I was not wrong.”
He bowed and followed Miss Buxton out of the drawing room, closing the door firmly behind them. John was rooted in place, frozen from what felt like a succession of shocking revelations, but this lasted mere seconds. He forced himself to go to Geny, unwilling to lose his chance to speak to her.
“I hardly know what to say.” He allowed his eyes to drink in the sight of her but dared not touch her. “I did not expect to have the fortune of meeting you again.”
She looked at him in silence, and he remembered the terribleimage of loneliness he had envisioned just hours before of what her future would look like. This propelled him to speak.
“Please tell me. Your father…” He examined her face for signs of tears or pallor. Instead, he found only two bright spots of color on her cheeks. The sight somehow gave him courage. “How are you faring?”
She still did not speak, and her silence now brought John a new and alarming revelation, one he was eager to dispel.
“It was not done by my hand,” he explained urgently, lifting both hands as though taking a double oath. “I was not the one to expose your father. I told him I would not do so when we met in Manchester.”
