Lucas held out his arms, turning around in a small circle.
“Here we are, you see,” he said, with an air of triumph. “Now this is the sort of club we ought to be attending. White’s is all very well, but it’s a little crowded these days. This one is going to be the next new fashionable thing, you mark my words.”
Clayton sighed, taking in the new club that Lucas had insisted they attend. Getting a membership had been worryingly easy, and the name was something French that he’d already forgotten.
It was a neatly arranged place, much like most of the other clubs Clayton had attended over the years. It was quiet, with booths and little alcoves set aside for private conversations, plenty of comfortable chairs and low tables to rest coffee and whiskey glasses upon, and a small fleet of footmen moving around the room on noiseless feet, serving drinks and speaking in low voices.
A pall of cigar smoke hung in the air, which annoyed Clayton a little. His jacket was a new velvet one, and the smell would cling. Thomas would have to soak it in scented water.
Oh, well.
“Come, then, you can tell me all about this literary afternoon of yours,” Lucas said, hooking an arm through Clayton’s and tugging him over to a secluded alcove. “I’m dying to hear about it.”
“It was a literary evening, actually. Why have you brought me here, Lucas?”
His friend gave a sigh, plumping down into a seat. He caught the eye of a footman and made a quick gesture that apparently translated to an order for drinks, as the footman bowed anddisappeared at once.
“I wanted to keep you away from Simon and make one last plea for you to call off this wager. I know you are sick and tired of discussing this, and I know you know how I feel about it, but I wouldn’t harp on so if I didn’t think it was serious.”
Clayton bit his lip, looking down. “To be frank, I have had misgivings myself. The wager is a peculiar one, and in hindsight, I can see that it’s not the sort of thing a gentleman should do. I should have known at the time, but you know me – I dive in everywhere head-first and then wonder why I get stuck. I can’t back out of the wager with honour, though. You know that.”
Lucas pursed his lips. “Something is going on between Lady Isolde and you, Clayton. More than what the wager requires. I’m not a fool, you know.”
“What exactly are you trying to say?”
He leaned forward. “You’re fond of her.”
“I admire her, yes. She’s clever, strong-minded, and pretty into the bargain. What’s your point?”
Lucas shrugged, sitting back. “She invited you to this literary salon, yes? Doesn’t that mean something? Have you considered that if you win your bet, you’ll hurt her more than you can imagine?”
Clayton’s eyes fluttered closed. “Yes, I have thought of that. And yes, it hurts me a great deal.”
Frowning, Lucas narrowed his eyes. “What aren’t you telling me, Clayton?”
Clayton opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment, the footman appeared, with two whiskey glasses on a silver tray. He set them down without a word and moved away on velvet feet.
There was something of an awkward pause after that.
The two men sipped their whiskey, listening to the sparse noise and low-level chatter around them.
“I’m not a fool, Clayton,” Lucas said at last, gaze fixed onhis whiskey. “I know that something is wrong. I know you, and I know this business with the wager must be bothering you. And Lady Isolde…”
“I’m fond of her, Lucas,” Clayton broke out suddenly. He set his whiskey down with a clack, suddenly unable to bear the taste for a moment longer. “No, it’s more than fondness.”
“Oh,” Lucas said, voice soft. “Oh, dear.”
Clayton drew in a deep breath, dropping his head into his hands.
“Every time I meet her, she astounds me in some way. I’ve met my fair share of clever women – some of them much more clever than me – and I’ve met a great many beautiful women, too. But there is something about Lady Isolde that blows them all away. She’s shown such fortitude in the face of all this gossip about her, and I know that it’s all my fault and I have no idea how to set it right. If she were to find out… oh, I can’t even bear to think of it. She haunts my thoughts when I’m awake, and I see her in my dreams at night. I’d consider her a ghost, if she weren’t alive.”
There was a short silence after that. Clayton let out a long, slow sigh after he’d finished speaking, relieved to have it said aloud after all. The relief didn’t last long, and soon he began to worry that he’d said too much.
Abruptly, Lucas leaned forward across the low coffee table, and patted Clayton’s knee.
“It must have taken a great deal of courage to admit that,” he said quietly. “I’m glad you chose to confide in me, my friend. Thank you.”
“I… I don’t know what to do,” he confessed. “I have no idea how she feels about me. Sometimes I feel sure that she feels something, but other times… well, I half think that she might despise me. And considering what I’ve done, I’d richly deserve it.”
