Cecily sniffed. “I still do not like this. EvenIknow how risky this could be for you.”
“Which is why we are starting with a couple of calls and a dance or two. In the meantime, I’ll find out what Thomas can bring to the table.”
“You think his behavior has changed just as Robert’s has?”
Rose glanced down at the paper. “Thomas was never much of a gambler and preferred to do it at Campion’s Gentlemen’s Emporium instead of at White’s. He prefers to spend his money on clothes instead of cards. He has a somewhat unforgettable temper, but it seems to flare only rarely. When it does, however, it’s ferocious.”
“Duke Wolfsbane.”
“Precisely. He liked the ladies and built his roguish reputation with widows and actresses several years ago. Never visited the brothels. Eventually a woman named Mrs. Carterton, a widow of some means herself, became his mistress. According to the Newbury House servants, Thomas is the most changed and has started working more closely with his father.”
“Isn’t there a third brother?”
Rose let out a long sigh. “Michael. What I’m hearing is that he was so far gone with his drinking that he’s still sorting that out. The servants are saying he only leaves his room to eat and visit the stables. Apparently, he has a way with the horses.” She peered closer at one note near the bottom of the sheet. “And he seems to have taken up with a stable cat named Rufus.”
“Can’t blame a man for that. You should introduce them to Athena.”
Rose laughed. “No, indeed. And Miss Athena is enough of a wild child on her own without the influence of a stable cat ruffian.” She pushed the sheet aside and took off her spectacles. “I have to admit, this is a bit of a leap of faith.”
“Something you are not very good at.”
“Not in several years.”
“So are you trusting him because he’s someone... how did you put it? Someone ‘you have known your entire life.’ Tell me this doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that you’ve been infatuated with him for years.”
Rose had already asked herself that a dozen times. “Hadan infatuation. Past tense.”Liar.“But perhaps it has colored my judgment somewhat.”
“Somewhat.”
Rose sniffed. “What I really hope is that he can bring me information about one particular man.”
“And if he cannot? If they aren’t the men you hope they will be?”
“Then I suppose my last season in Society will end with a fanfare no one could have imagined.”
Chapter Seven
Thomas stared intothe fireplace of the card room, a glass of White’s finest brandy held loosely in his right hand, his wolf’s-head cane leaning against his left knee. Both reflected the flickering red and gold of the flames, but Thomas’s focus remained in a far distant place as he slouched deeper into the comforting leather, crossing his feet at the ankles. He’d had enough of the brandy that his mood had tempered somewhat, currently vacillating between moody introspection and intense curiosity. In the middle lay thoughts of a woman whose driven nature and passion made her stand out in a room full of bland beauties. A woman who—after one event—made his loins tighten and his heart race even more than Mrs. Carterton ever had.
Who—despite what he had told Robert—had begun to occupy more of his thoughts than wisdom or reason would dictate. Whose bouncing blonde ringlets of childhood had given way to a mane of hair he had the urge to plunge his hands into. Whose plush curves a man could explore and disappear into for days. Whose full and soft lips pursed and tightened, smiled and scowled, dancing through a hundred emotions, inviting a man to still them with long, demanding kisses.
A woman who used Society’s restrictive protocols not as limitations but guidelines to achieve a goal to which she’d dedicated much of her adult life. Who wore out-of-season dresses but shone brighter than any of the debutantes around her who glittered with bright fabrics, beads, and feathers.
He took a deep draw on the brandy, letting the burn in his throat help his focus. “Why?” he whispered. Because he didn’t believe for a moment that he had the entire story. Something was missing. Something that Robert had hinted at but never stated directly. “Who is your big fish, Rose Timmons?”
A ruckus at one of the card tables behind him made Thomas flinch, and he pushed up in the chair. He should go home. He’d hoped to drill Robert for more information tonight, but his brother had left abruptly, having received a message from Bill Campion. Thomas knew Robert’s loyalty to that man could derail his re-entry to Society, but he also knew his brother’s attentions had been split for several years. It had been Bill Campion who had taught Robert to run a business, and now his younger brother had a deep desire to do just that. Thomas wasn’t yet convinced that their father could change that direction. Of the three of them, Robert had the most potential to make a living—if not a fortune—on his own.
A body dropped into the chair on the other side of the fire, and Thomas glanced in that direction, startled to see Felton Barfield, Lord Broxley, in the chair Robert had occupied earlier in the evening. Reflexively, Thomas’s left hand closed around his cane as the man had the audacity to smile.
“Newbury. Surprised to see you here. I thought you and your brother had given up the club for loftier pursuits.”
Thomas remained silent, his eyes narrow. He set the glass of brandy down on the table between the two chairs and straightened, putting both feet on the floor.
Broxley’s smile continued. “I do admit I was surprised to see you at Higginbotham’s in league with that crazy bitch from hell. After all, you and I are of the same class. And she’s lying, you know. About the debt. There’s no way a woman like her could know anything of the sort. She’s a harridan who’s been hounding any number of good men over the years for no reason other than the fact that we want to be with beautiful and innocent young women, no matter what so-called Polite Society thinks.”
Thomas leaned toward Broxley, his voice low and confidential. “I can tell you another thing that Lady Rose Timmons did not know.”
The smile brightened. “I told you. What’s that?”
