Lady Guinevere and the Rogue with a Brogue - Julie Johnstone Page 0,67
enough money to do so, he’d bought into a partnership with Beckford to open his first club, the very one Asher now sat in, the Orcus Society, so named for the Roman god Orcus, the god of the underworld, punisher of broken oaths. Asher knew Beckford had some scores he planned to settle eventually, but he didn’t know the why or the how. His friend would tell him when he was ready.
Beckford raised his hand to indicate he needed a drink, and almost immediately, a tall, willowy brunette was there, tray in hand. She was all smiles and batting lashes, serving Beckford and then asking Asher if he needed anything. Anything at all. He took a long swig of his drink while shaking his head.
Once she departed, Beckford arched his eyebrows at Asher. “Why are you here? I heard you were betrothed to the Darlington chit.”
“I see gossips are still quick to relay news,” Asher replied, shoving his hand through his hair.
Beckford picked up his drink and finished it in one gulp. “They move like lightning when it’s as titillating as a newly titled widower duke and a beautiful lady being discovered in a scandalous situation. Especially if said duke has a history of being discovered in compromising situations and said lady was once an awkward duck now turned astonishing swan.”
Asher scowled. “She was always a swan.”
“So was she waiting for you, then?” Beckford asked. “Is that why she turned down so many offers of marriage?”
“Did she have many?” Asher asked, hiding his surprise at that bit of news. He refused to allow the belief that he was the reason she was still unwed.
“Rumor says at least a half dozen.”
“If she was waiting for me, she has had a most unusual way of indicating it. When I left her house last night, she was in the garden kissing Kilgore.” Asher’s fingers reflexively curled around his glass.
“Was the man unaware you were informally betrothed to her?”
“She’s not mine, and he was aware.”
“You want me to have him beaten?”
Asher did not even ask if Beckford was joking. The man was not. He controlled the underbelly of Covent Garden. Here, Beckford was a duke in his own right, and he could call in a marker in the blink of an eye. He could have ruffians at his command who would thrash a man without a thought.
“Nay,” Asher said. “Lady Guinevere has made her choice.” Or nearly made it. Damn hope. Was it midnight yet?
“It’s not Guin anymore?”
Beckford was the only person who knew the truth about Asher’s past with Guinevere. He’d confessed it in a highly foxed state the night after he’d seen her on the terrace with Kilgore and gotten himself ensnared by Elizabeth. “Nay. I’m here to put her out of my mind.”
“You should have said you came for a woman’s company.” Beckford started to raise his hand toward one of the women employed there, but Asher shook his head.
“I’ve changed my mind about what I want,” he said.
Beckford dropped his hand and shot Asher a pitying look. “Somehow I think it was never firmly set.”
Asher neither denied nor agreed. Instead, he just said, “I’m leaving for Scotland in the morning.”
“I thought you might not stay. Taking your title and your fortune and heading back to Scotland, eh?”
“Just the title.” The entailed land was here, after all.
Beckford leaned forward. “Care to explain?”
Asher quickly told Beckford of his father’s will. When he was finished speaking, Beckford said, “And you are simply going to give up? Let Kilgore take the woman and lose your fortune, your company?”
“I’ll think of another way. I always have before.”
Saying the words stilled him. Damn. He’d good and truly lied to himself. He’d told himself he would wed to obtain his full fortune, but when he had learned Lady Henrietta was already married, his reaction had been relief. When Lady Constantine had turned him down, he had been relieved, as well. He had hoped she would, he realized. He had wanted an excuse to pursue Guinevere and keep his pride intact.
“Ah, I see,” Beckford said, too discreet to say more.
Just then, a tall redheaded woman dressed in a man’s trousers came up to their table. She flicked her eyes at Asher and then focused on Beckford. “Beck, there’s a very insistent uppity bloke in livery at the alley door demanding to speak with a man named Carrington. Do you know if there is a toff by that name in the club tonight?”