his father had voted against the bill that did away with drawing and quartering traitors. Its passage had spared him a more gruesome death. Shortly after his execution, the Crown had confiscated the duke’s titles and properties and left Griff and his family with naught but the clothes on their backs and the few belongings they’d managed to gather before they were evicted from the residence. The truth of the duke had broken their mother’s heart, and she’d passed away in ruin and despair. Family and friends had abandoned them, and they’d been left to their own devices. Even Chadbourne had turned his back on Althea and broken the engagement, which had resulted in Society shunning her completely.
Working in the shadows, Marcus was determined to regain the family honor by discovering who else had been involved in the plot to do away with Queen Victoria. For a few months Griff had joined in the quest but had recently lost patience with it and decided his efforts would be better spent striving to ensure he could provide funds when needed. Little money was to be earned in clandestine endeavors.
Rolling out of the bed, the only piece of furniture presently in this room, he snatched up his trousers and pulled them on. His investments had finally come to fruition, providing him with enough money to purchase the building he’d wanted, but more was needed to turn it into what he’d envisioned. And he knew just where to get the blunt.
His clubs had cancelled his memberships, refused him entry. But a well-placed sovereign in the palm of an otherwise-trusted employee had gotten him what he needed.
Reaching into his coat pocket, he removed the slip of paper on which was listed the name of every damned lord who had wagered against his prediction that the Duke of Kingsland would select Lady Kathryn Lambert as the woman he would court with the intention of marrying. While paying a debt from a wager was a matter of honor, it seemed gentlemen were not compelled to honor those debts when they were owed to the son of a traitor. The money would have come in handy when he and his siblings had found themselves with nothing.
Now those very same lords and gentlemen who’d turned their backs on him, who had refused to make good on their wagers, were going to learn that eventually the devil always got his due—with interest.
The following night
Kathryn had always loved the theater, and since last June, she’d become a regular fixture in Kingsland’s box. Attending plays was one of the few things they did with any regularity, although sitting beside him now, with her maid serving as chaperone and settled in a chair behind her, she wondered if he brought her here because it removed the need for much conversation. She always became so absorbed in the performances that she easily maintained the quietness he claimed to prefer. On the rare occasion when she did glance over at him, it was to see a man who appeared distant, distracted, as though he was busily engaged in running sums through his mind.
They’d attended a few dinners together, and he’d carried on conversation with ease, but she suspected that after they married and it was only the two of them at the table, he would be occupied with ruminations on his business affairs rather than discourse revolving around her interests or how she might have spent her day. Not that she needed to be the center of his world or the focus of his attention. She had accepted that theirs wouldn’t be a love match, but then love was not required among the aristocracy for a well-suited marriage.
“Is something amiss? You seem distracted.”
With a start, she glanced over at the man she was to marry—if he ever got around to asking. If she ever insisted that he did. Since he’d called out her name, they’d had relatively little time together. He’d been in France, Belgium, and even America for a while and had only just returned from Scotland the day before. It seemed his business ventures took him all over the world. Although, whenever he was away, she received small tokens indicating he was thinking of her: flowers, chocolates, an invitation to use his box when a new play began. He sent nothing that would be inappropriate for her to accept. Still, she would have preferred a letter sharing the details of his travels. But having received none, it seemed they should have had