Page 15 of Playing the Scoundrel

Chapter Six

Standing in front of his father’s townhouse was the last place Henry wanted to be. In fact, he would much rather be facing exile to the America’s, or the very gates of hell itself, but instead, society required that he visit his father when summoned. The more proper term would have been invited, but the elder Mr. Godwin did not have a warm bone in his body, so it came off more as a demand. Which was what found Henry pausing at the townhouse entrance, working up the desire to actually knock on the door.

It would only be fifteen minutes of abuse, and then he could return to his evening of debauchery.

Finally raising his hand to the door, Henry knocked and almost instantly, it opened.

“Good day, Mr. Godwin,” said the butler, bowing and stepping aside to allow him in.

“Baxter.” Henry nodded in greeting. “How is the old man today?”

“He was expecting you five minutes ago, sir.”

Henry glanced down at his pocket watch. He was precisely on time. Once again, unable to meet impossible expectations. A great way to start the visit.

“Of course he was.” Henry sighed. “I’ll see myself in.”

“Oh, but he won’t like you being unannounced.”

Henry strode toward the corridor, calling over his shoulder, “Does he like anything I do?”

Baxter shrank but remained in the foyer.

Once he stood at the library door, Henry huffed and put on a face of bravery.

Before Henry could even offer a half-hearted greeting, the old man said, “You’re late.”

Gritting his teeth, Henry paused before continuing into the room. His father was seated in a large armchair before a roaring fire, his back to the entryway. The rest of the room was immaculate, with dark woods and velvets, but the one fine thing that shone out above all the rest was the framed painting above the mantel of Henry’s elder brother. The late Edgar Godwin.

“Actually, Father, I’m on time. If you wanted me to arrive five to the hour, you should have specified in your letter.”

“You should have known better. I don’t request much of you, but punctuality is key.”

“Oh, indeed. You request nothing of me,” Henry mumbled and rolled his eyes, taking a seat in the chair across from him. It seemed his father had aged years in the last six months, but that shouldn’t have surprised him, for anger and hatred did tend to suck the life out of people.

“Fetch the tea,” Father ordered, lifting his hand to dismiss the servant behind him, who then disappeared. “Now, what caused your delay?”

Henry sat back, crossing his legs in front of him. “I was securing a ticket for the theatre tonight.”

“Is it to court an eligible young woman?”

“You might say that.” Henry had only purchased one for himself, but who could tell if he would be lucky enough to find a lonely widow in need of company?

“I don’t mean some woman to satisfy your senseless depravity.” The old man narrowed his eyes. “I mean a woman of quality, of means. Someone to bring honor back to this house.”

The tea arrived, and Henry pressed his lips together as it poured. “Unfortunately not, Father. I don’t tend to attract the kind of women in society you’d prefer.”

Father shook his head. “Of course not. Because you’re the last kind of man a respectable woman would want.”

Henry closed his eyes and took a sip of his tea, which was too hot, too bitter. “And why’s that?”

“Because you’re good for nothing!” Father slammed his teacup on the side table, sloshing the drink all over the floor. “What woman wants a man that has no merit? I offered you a commission into the Royal Army, and you wouldn’t take it. I sent you to law school, and you couldn’t pass your exams. And I wouldn’t offend the Lord by sending you to the Church, for I know they wouldn’t take you.”

They agreed on the last point, at least. Henry would not have done well in the Church. But he didn’t go into the army because his mother insisted that it was too dangerous. And he hadn’t been able to pass his exams because it was at that time they’d learned his brother had died from service in the army. Henry had still been grieving his elder brother. And then the loss of his mother.

With the loss of his brother, Henry was no longer required to have an occupation, but none of this mattered to his father. All he saw was the son that wasn’t living up to his potential. The son that wasn’t Edgar.

“It seems the life of a gentleman is the only thing that suits me,” Henry said.

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