dining room, raising eyebrows of the members scattered at the tables. He didn’t give a damn about them either.
He had one reason for being here, and it wasn’t to play nicely with others—
Howard.
Amelia’s brother sat at a small table in the corner, where he was lunching on a plate of roast pheasant and chatting with two of his cronies. Pearce stalked toward him, halting conversation at every table he passed and trailing whispers in his wake.
The man looked up, just as startled as everyone else in the club to see him there. “Sandhurst.” Surprise lightened his voice. “How pleasant to—”
“I want a word with you.” He narrowed his eyes at the two men flanking Howard. “In private.”
“Of course.” He smiled apologetically at his chums. “If you might leave us for a moment?”
The men rose from their chairs, not giving Pearce another look as they left the room to wait in the bar.
“Boodle’s,” Pearce muttered as he sat heavily on the chair opposite Howard and pushed the previous man’s half-finished plate away. He made a disinterested gesture at the club around them. “I’m surprised that a man of your political ambitions isn’t entrenched in Brooks’s. That is where the Whigs live these days.”
Howard leaned back in his chair with a twist of a smile. “My allegiance is to my country, not to a club or even to one political party.”
Pearce chuckled darkly. “I didn’t think you had allegiance to anyone but yourself.”
Amelia’s brother merely shrugged, not feeling the sting of that insult. “A man has to look after himself these days.” He reached for his port. “He’d be a fool not to.”
“And your sister, don’t forget. You look after her, too.”
He lifted the glass in a toast. “Above all else.”
Pearce longed to slam his fist into the man’s face. Instead, he smiled tightly. “Good. Then we’re in agreement that Miss Howard’s interests should be taken into consideration when it comes to the turnpike.”
Howard nearly spilled his port. “Pardon?”
“Last night, after we spoke at the ball, I had the chance to spend time with your sister.” Time that he would never forget. “We discussed Bradenhill.” Among other things. “She’s concerned about losing control of her property, that the trustees will put their interests above hers. I assured her that I would protect her.” He fixed his gaze on Howard. “Always.”
“Then—” Howard lowered his voice so they wouldn’t be overheard. “You’ve come to a decision regarding the trust?”
“I have.” He waved away the waiter when the man came forward to take his lunch order. He had no appetite. “I’m all in for the project.”
A wide smile broke across Howard’s face. “That’s wond—”
“But I don’t want to wait. I want to move ahead at full speed, to make certain the trust passes through Parliament before the current session closes.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Happiness—and relief—beamed from the man. “So we’ll talk to—”
“Only one thing’s holding me back.”
His smile vanished, and he snapped out, “For Christ’s sake!” When other members at the tables around them frowned at him, he leaned forward in exasperation and lowered his voice. “What could possibly be holding you back now?”
“I want to meet the other men you’ve chosen to be trustees.” Pearce tapped his finger against the table to punctuate his point. “I won’t agree until I’ve had the chance to make certain that all of our interests align. I’m an experienced soldier. Character matters to me. So does trust. When the enemy has its guns pointed at you, the last thing you want to question is whether the men behind you have your back.” He smiled coldly. “Or if they’ll tuck tail and run.”
“I assure you that these men possess exemplary character.”
And Pearce was sure that he’d just lied. “Then I look forward to meeting them.”
“I’ll make arrangements.”
“Do so quickly,” he warned, shoving himself away from the table.
With that, Pearce strode from the club, pausing only to pull on his coat and hat in the foyer before stepping into the chilly rain. Howard would lead him to the last men on the blackmailer’s list, and those men would lead him to Scepter. He would stop their threats, and Amelia would be safe. And once Amelia was safe, he could focus all his attention on the next battle.
Making her his wife.
Twenty
“Who’s to say that Pangloss isn’t correct, that this world—for all its capriciousness, violence, and volatility, a world in which we are utterly lost to the buffeting winds of fate—isn’t in fact the best?”
Amelia rolled her eyes. And with that, the