Page 12 of As the Earl Likes
“I will, after a bit of fortification.”
“A wise move considering the scheme the patronesses have planned,” Lord Lucien said with a faint grimace.
The Phoenix Club had a group of lady patronesses, much like Almack’s. However, the Phoenix Club patronesses weren’t stuffy or judgmental. Indeed, one was the manager of the club, Lady Evangeline Blakemore, who’d been a courtesan in her former life.
“What’s that?” Sheff asked.
“They are trying their hand at matchmaking by randomly pairing dancing partners. I did tell them I think it’s a risk, but they assured me it would all be in good fun.”
“Will you be participating?” Sheff asked.
“Heavens, no,” Lord Lucien replied. “I am, happily, already matched.” His eyes glinted with a joy one only saw in those who believed themselves to be in love.
Sheff recognized the look because a number of his friends had recently fallen. Time would reveal how long they remained that way. Sheff did not think it would be forever. Romantic love was fleeting at best.
“Since you have the ear of the patronesses, I would appreciate if they would pair me with Miss Josephine Harker.” Sheff wanted to be sure he danced with her this evening.
Lord Lucien’s dark brows shot up. “Have you set your sights on someone at last?”
Sheff wanted to deny it, to reiterate that he would never wed, but that was not the point of this endeavor. Everyone must think he’d finally succumbed—at least for now. At some point, he would have to do something to prompt Jo’s rejection of him. Though it would be necessary, he realized the thought of that turned his stomach. He would not humiliate her. He couldn’t. He could ruin himself without adversely affecting her.
“Jo is someone with whom I am able to be myself,” Sheff said, shocked to find that was actually true. Mostly. He had to keep some things secret. Even she would be horrified to learn how roguish he really was, how like his father he could be.
“I like Jo—and her mother—a great deal,” Lord Lucien said. “Don’t let anyone deter you from what you want. Or whom you love,” he added softly before moving on to a new topic. “Evie found a delicious whisky from the Highlands that just arrived today if you want to give it a try.”
“I do, indeed.” Sheff went into the members’ den and immediately saw his friend the Marquess of Keele seated at a table on the side of the room. Joining him there, Sheff bid him good evening. “Is that the new whisky?” Sheff asked, inclining his head toward the glass of golden liquid in Keele’s hand.
“It is. Can’t imagine it will last long unless Lord Lucien is rationing it.” Keele gestured toward the opposite chair with his free hand. “Sit and have a splash. I assume you’re here for the ball.”
“Why would you assume that?” Sheff asked. “I am no more interested in marriage than you are.” Too late, he realized that was the wrong thing to say in light of his plan to propose marriage very soon. He couldn’t forget the scheme he was launching or the role he was playing within it. He needed to be careful not to ruin this ruse before it even began.
“Because regardless of what you say, a small part of you still considers the possibility that you will wed. You have to—there’s a dukedom at stake.”
“Your marquessate is somehow less important?” Sheff noted wryly.
Keele chuckled. “It’s still a mess, so yes. Leaving it to someone in this state would be cruel.” He’d inherited a severely indebted estate along with his title several years ago and spent nearly every waking moment trying to repair the damage, even marrying a woman whose family was in trade—a very successful one—to fill the empty coffers. However, she’d died two years ago. Keele had just ventured out into Society in the last month or so.
A footman stopped at their table, and Sheff requested a glass of the whisky, though, glancing at the clock, he supposed he ought to be quick. He’d no idea when Jo would arrive, but probably soon if she hadn’t already.
Sheff thought of what Keele had said, that a small part of him would consider marriage. Keele was wrong, but Sheff couldn’t argue that point. Not on the verge of his scheme.
Keele sipped his whisky and closed his eyes in brief appreciation. “Still can’t believe Somerton wed. Perhaps you’ll be next, for matrimony seems to be spreading amongst your set.” He smirked. “Like a disease.”
Dammit, Keele wasn’t wrong. Sheff had lost Bane, Wellesbourne, Droxford, and now Somerton. Keele and Price were all that were left, and Keele wasn’t even really part of their set. Their set being the group of gentlemen who gathered in Weston every August for a week or so of masculine pursuits. Though, that wasn’t quite the same anymore since Wellesbourne had married eighteen months ago. Last August, their fun had been interrupted when Droxford had shockingly proposed marriage to his now wife. And now Somerton had gone and wed Price’s sister.
Sheff was leaving Bane out. He’d been the first to ruin things when he’d been caught in a compromising position with a young lady and then refused to wed her because he was already betrothed to someone else. That had been news to Sheff, who’d thought he was Bane’s closest friend. Sheff hadn’t seen him since he’d gone north to marry his bride, and they’d recently received news that his wife had died giving birth to their daughter, who had also not survived. Dammit, now Sheff was feeling melancholy.
The footman brought Sheff’s whisky. Raising his glass, Sheff offered a toast. “To good friends, even when they fall prey to the parson’s trap.”
Keele lifted his glass. “It’s not so bad when you find the right person,” he said quietly. “But you must be prepared for the possibility that it won’t last.” He finished his whisky and waved his glass for the footman to refill it, which happened a moment later.
Amen to that, Sheff thought as he sipped the rich liquor, its smoky flavor coating his tongue. While he enjoyed it, there were other varieties he preferred more. Setting his glass down, he said, “You should come to Weston with us this August. As you noted, my set is dwindling.”
“Your father has an estate there, does he not?” Keele asked.
“Yes. The stables are excellent. We do a great deal of riding, and the countryside is beautiful, as is the beach. Have you ever ridden a horse across the sand?”
“I have not,” Keele replied. “I don’t like to take time away from my work here in London. As it is, I only go to Westlands for a month in September.” He referred to his estate between Birmingham and Manchester. “I don’t think I could spare more time away, especially someplace that is nowhere near London or Westlands.”
