He raised his glass. “Things will turn out as they should.”
“Always maintain your countenance. Good man. Young yet. Plenty of time to get a leg-shackle.”
The drunk and his friend wandered off. Several minutes later, a stocky man, not much above medium height, who reminded Rupert of his local squire, strolled in. “Stanstead?”
“I’m afraid you have the advantage, sir.”
“Should’ve known it was nothing but a hum.”
“I beg your pardon?” He set his drink back down.
“Damn me if you don’t look like old Lord Beaumont when you look like that. Don’t see much of Stanstead in you though.”
Next to Rupert his father stiffened.
“I’m said to favor my mother.”
“That happens. Some of mine look like their mothers as well.” The man tucked his thumbs into the top of his breeches, leaning back like a strutting rooster.
“And you are?” This could only be Lord Tewkesbury. Still, the question had to be asked.
“Viscount Tewkesbury. Thought you might remember me. Then again, you were just a pup at the time.”
Rupert reclaimed his glass and took a healthy draw. “You must excuse me, I do not remember. Have you just returned to Town?”
“No returned about it, my lad. Don’t like the place. I’m only here to collect a new bitch.”
The room had become quiet, and Tewkesbury’s voice seemed to echo through it.
“Indeed.” Rupert held up his goblet as if admiring the color of the wine. “I seem to remember you are famous for your dogs. I wasn’t aware anyone was keeping them in Town.”
“Not a hunting dog. Got all of them I need right now. I’m talking about Lord Brackford’s daughter, Lady Beresford.”
Something in Rupert shifted and he was closer to calling a man out than he’d ever been before. That, though, would not help Vivian.
“Here, here, man. Shouldn’t be referring to a lady as a female dog,” a gentleman said.
“No insult meant.” Tewkesbury swayed back, and Rupert wondered if the man was in his altitudes. “All females serve the same purpose, breeding and companionship.”
Rupert started forward, but Hawksworth placed a hand on Rupert’s shoulder. “You are insulting, sir.” Hawksworth’s tone was deadly calm. “I do not yet have a wife, but I assure you I would not stand by and listen to anyone call her a bitch. I think you might wish to leave before someone takes offense.”
At that point, the porter, followed by two footmen, approached Tewkesbury. “My lord, unless you apologize, I must ask you to depart the club. One of our board members has complained.”
For a moment, Rupert thought the cur would resist, but after some coaxing from one of the other gentlemen, Tewkesbury left.
“Thank you.”
Hawksworth shrugged. “Someday you might do the same for me. If you need help in a fight though, Beresford’s your man.” He tossed off his brandy. “I’ll see you at the ball.”
“You shall.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Vivian glanced at the clock and began to pace. “What could be keeping them?”
“Any number of things.” Freddy patted the seat next to her. “Wearing yourself out with worry won’t help.”
“Very true.” Serena pressed a glass of sherry into Vivian’s trembling hands. “Sherry will help calm you. Robert and Edward are with him.”
