Dalliance with the Duchess (Seducing the Duchess #3)

Chapter Sixteen

W hen Sophia arrived the next night at Lucifer’s—the hell was tucked away in a narrow street on the edge of St. Giles—the first thing she heard was Chatham’s bored drawl.

“There you are, Madam. I beg you to put your skills to use. Robinson is on a winning streak, and the three of us will soon be paupers.”

She smiled as if she were amused, but it was becoming more and more difficult to play her part. She wanted nothing more than to stand up and leave and return to Berkeley Square and wait for Nicholas. She had glanced about her on the way inside and hadn’t seen him, but she knew how clever he was at hiding himself in plain sight.

For a time, the four of them played, and at one point she rose to fetch them a plate of biscuits to nibble on. She thought Gordon could do with soaking up his few sips of wine, and the table service at Lucifer’s left a great deal to be desired. Why hadn’t the others gone to Hettie Devenish’s as usual? Apart from Hettie warning them about Gordon—at least that was what Sophia assumed she’d done—was there a reason they were now at Lucifer’s? It only took her a short while to notice that the play at Lucifer’s was more dangerously deep than at other clubs. Gentlemen hunched over their cards, as if they had only one aim in their lives, and that was to win. She recognized some of them, highfliers from the government who should have known better.

Questions plagued her, and when she returned to the table she was still so deep in her own thoughts that she missed part of the conversation.

“Then we are agreed?” Chatham was exchanging glances with the other two men, and they shared smiles.

All except Gordon, who swallowed, his gaze skimming over Sophia as if he didn’t want it to linger too obviously. “Are you sure it is a good idea?” he said. “I did not hear the insult you spoke of, and the Earl of Mountfitchet is friends with the Prime Minister. He won’t take kindly to me—to me...” His voice trailed off, and he covered his mouth as if he might be sick.

“What insult?” Sophia asked, but they weren’t listening.

Butcher made a sound of disgust, and Arnold joined him. Chatham was watching Gordon with a disappointed look in his blue eyes. “I thought you were a man, Robinson. Am I wrong?”

“I just—”

“ What insult?” Sophia demanded, cutting across Gordon’s protest. “What are you talking about?”

The marquess looked mildly surprised. “You did not hear it? As you walked past Mountfitchet over there,” he nodded toward one of the gentlemen she had recognized at the next table bar one, “he made a slighting reference to you. We all heard it, and young Robinson here is going to avenge your honor.”

Sophia stared at Chatham. Avenge her honor? It sounded ridiculous, and not something the marquess was in the habit of doing. She had been insulted before, and usually they just laughed it off. Although now she thought about it, there had been an incident once when someone said something unpleasant in front of Oldney, and the next time she saw the gentleman, he’d had a black eye.

Perhaps they were prepared to stand up for her and she was being unnecessarily skeptical. And yet there was something in the air around them that made her suspicious.

She looked at Gordon and noticed how pale he was, before she turned back to the marquess. “Do you mean a duel?” Her voice was far too loud, and she was quickly shushed by the others.

“No, not a duel ,” Chatham hissed. “Duels are illegal, as you well know, Duchess. We will meet with him and demand an apology, and if he refuses then we will teach him a lesson. Robinson is hot for it, are you not, boy?”

Gordon looked sick, and certainly not ready to take on a man of twice his age and experience. And as he had said, an important man high in the government. But he could not refuse outright. This may be a test of his loyalty to the group.

Or what if this was the plan Chatham had spoken of? The way in which they were going to ruin Gordon? Her stomach dropped in a dizzying fashion. Yes, it made sense. Gordon would “teach” the earl a lesson, and there would be a tremendous scandal. A scuffle between Gordon and Mountfitchet might be forgiven, but what if Mountfitchet was injured? Gordon would go to prison, unless he asked Nicholas with his powerful friends to step in and intervene with the earl and the government. Even if he rescued Gordon, he would never be looked upon the same again. Involving himself with the Duke of Oldney’s widow and her compatriots? How could Nicholas maintain his good standing?

No wonder Gordon looked so frightened. If he refused, then his time with the set was over and so was any chance he had of discovering what had happened to Fern.

No, he had to go through with it, and just pray that Nicholas was watching on, and would swoop in like an avenging angel and save them before too much damage was done.

“Well?” Sir Tomas said, his face close to Gordon’s. “There is a sniff of the coward about you, Robinson.”

“Downright chicken-hearted,” Butcher added, sneering.

Gordon swallowed and straightened his back, his jaw jutting out in a pugnacious manner. “I will do it. I can’t allow the duchess to be insulted, no matter who the man is. The blighter,” he added, and his voice gave an unfortunate squeak.

“Good fellow!” The marquess clapped him so heartily on the back he almost fell into his drink. “I knew you would step up. Look at him, he’s ready for anything!”

Sophia took in their smirking faces. “Really?” she said, because she could not help it. “There is no need for this. I am not bothered by what men say, especially those who mean nothing to me. My skin is thicker than that.”

Gordon’s eyes met hers, and there was a spark of hope in them. But the others weren’t having it and refused to be turned from their objective.

“Men like that think they are above the rest of us, and can do and say as they wish,” Sir Tomas hissed furiously. “It cannot be allowed.” His choice of words struck Sophia as strange and hypocritical, as he had accused Nicholas, the commoner, of not showing them enough respect.

“Hear, hear,” Lord Butcher thumped his fist on the table, making the cards and the goblets jump. “Robinson will make him change his tune.”

Sophia knew then that this was going to happen and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Gordon got to his feet and made his way to Mountfitchet’s table. There was evidently some deep play going on there and no one seemed to notice him standing there. He cleared his throat and eventually the earl looked up. He frowned, scanning Gordon’s face with disinterest.

“What do you want?” he asked, choosing another card from the deck.

“You insulted the Dowager Duchess of Oldney,” Gordon said. He glanced back at Sophia and then took a breath and put his hand on Mountfitchet’s shoulder. “I am here to avenge her honor.”

“You’re what?” One of the earl’s companions goggled at him. “Are you foxed, boy? Do you know who you’re speaking to?”

“The man who insulted a lady,” Gordon responded, and his voice had gained strength. He was getting into his role and Sophia wanted to shake him.

She watched in dismay as the earl rose to his feet, throwing aside his cards. “I will pretend I did not hear you, and for your sake you should be grateful,” he said slowly. He was tall and thin, with a beak of a nose, and he must be twice Gordon’s age. But there was nothing feeble about him, and from the looks of anticipation on the faces of his friends, he was well able to take care of himself.

“I can’t do that,” Gordon replied bravely. Beads of sweat were popping up on his brow.

Mountfitchet stared at him a moment more and then shrugged. “Let’s deal with this now then. I don’t remember saying anything derogatory about the lady, but if you say I did...” He smiled, and Sophia realized then that the earl was actually looking forward to this. “There’s a courtyard near here where we can settle our argument.”

Mountfitchet stalked out of the room, which was deadly quiet now, everyone watching on. No chance of pretending this wasn’t happening. His friends rose to follow him, and Chatham and the others rose, too, with Sophia following them. Her legs felt as if they could barely hold her up, and when she reached Gordon, he clung to her arm as if he were close to fainting. She managed to be alone with him briefly, while his coat and her cloak were fetched.

“You do not have to do this,” she said, leaning in close. “We can say no and walk away. This isn’t helping us find Fern.”

His eyes were wide, and he looked so young. It broke her heart. “But how will we ever find her if I don’t do this?” he said. Then, catching Chatham’s gaze upon them, he raised his voice. “I refuse to let that man insult you, Your Grace. He needs to be taught a lesson.”

Sophia shrugged indifferently. “I’m sure it wasn’t meant,” she said.

“He called you a harlot,” Arnold replied, and there was glee in his eyes. “ Our harlot. He wondered aloud if you took us on one at a time or all together.”

Sophia felt sick. “Nasty,” she said, her voice not as confident as before. “I’m sorry I did not to hear him. I would have dealt with him myself.”

Sir Tomas patted her on the shoulder with false sympathy. “Well now you don’t have to,” he said. “If Oldney were here, he would do the same.”

“In fact,” Lord Butcher looked about at them, “we will do this in Oldney’s name. He was our friend, and you were his wife.”

Sophia tried to look grateful. She tied her cloak, purposely dropping her money purse, and using the moment to glance about her. Some of the other patrons had followed them out, eager to watch the spectacle. But where was Nicholas?

He must be here somewhere. He said he would be. Why couldn’t she see him? It felt as if everything had happened too quickly and they weren’t ready. Gordon was scared to death and her hands were shaking. She hoped Nicholas was prepared to step in when the time came, or they would be in trouble.

When she finished with her cloak and looked up, Chatham was watching her with a satisfied smirk on his face. He immediately changed his expression to a concerned one, but it made no difference to how she felt about him. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“I still think an apology will suffice,” she said. “I will ask him for one.”

Chatham’s hand grasped her wrist so tightly that it hurt. She tried to pull away, but he would not release her. “I don’t think that is wise, Duchess,” he said quietly, but there was a warning in his pale eyes. “It will not send the message we desire. Mountfitchet must learn his lesson. Would you deny Robinson here the opportunity to behave in a heroic manner?”

“Of course not,” she said impatiently, giving her hand another tug. This time Chatham released it. “But nor do I want blood shed over a—a trifle.”

“Your honor is no trifle, Madam,” Sir Tomas said gravely, as if he knew what honor was. “We are prepared to uphold it no matter the cost.”

Dear God, this was madness, but there seemed nothing she could do to stop it. Even Gordon was determined to go through with it. She just had to hope that Nicholas was nearby and could stop them.

“Very well,” she snapped. “If you must.”

They exchanged more glances, while Gordon fiddled with his cuffs. This was it then, the plot that would bring Nicholas down. It felt as if it was rushing toward her like a runaway carriage, and she wasn’t sure she would have time to step aside before it struck her.