AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Henry swatted Darcy’s hand away. “I do not actually carry coin on my person.”
“Yes, I know. You wager funds you never intend to pay. Henry . . .” Darcy sighed. “Henry, one day you will come across a man who will not take your flippant manner well. I do not wish to see you harmed. Have you thought at all what that might do to your parents? To Fitz, who has no desire to be the viscount?”
His cousin studied him carefully, and Darcy wondered if his words had made any difference.
“Darcy,” Henry began, but paused. His expression was unusually somber. “There are things you do not know.”
“Very well. Enlighten me.”
Henry glanced away to view the street outside the carriage window. When his eyes returned to Darcy’s, he smiled as brightly as ever. “I cheat at the duels, too.”
The club was nearly full when they arrived. Darcy could hear the gambling crowd on the first floor, their shouts and laughter wafting down the stairwell. Henry headed straight for the steps, and Darcy, with an inward grimace, followed.
“The books, Darcy,” Henry murmured and shoved the most recent one in his direction.
“Darcy!” a young man called from the back of the room, the high pitch of his voice cutting through the din. “What are you signing, man?”
Henry cleared his throat, ceremoniously pulled at his cravat to make certain it was straight, and announced, “My cousin is to be wed tomorrow, and I have at last convinced him to settle your bets!”
Darcy took up the pen and opened the book. He could not prevent his small, contented smile as he wrote in clear strokes: “Mr. F. Darcy married to Miss E. Bennet, December 6, 1811.” St. Nicholas’s day and the day of my marriage.
The room fell deathly silent for a second while he wrote. When he set the pen down and stepped away, there was nearly a brawl as the rest of the men shoved their way to read the page. Darcy saw Mann paying something to another gentleman with a scowl. Good. He hoped Mann had lost more than the hundred pounds he earned wagering on Darcy’s trip to Hertfordshire. Someone called, “Who is Miss E. Bennet, Darcy?”
Henry stepped up. “She is the daughter of a gentleman who does not care for London, and when you meet her, you will all be rushing out to the country to seek a wife just like her.”
Darcy took a deep breath. Henry had handled that deftly. Now it was his turn. He motioned to one of the servants and requested several bottles of wine. The man rushed off and returned with glasses and assistance. Darcy noted that the wine was a rather more expensive vintage than the typical drink the club served, but he did not protest. “Serve everyone who wishes a glass,” he instructed the men, loud enough to be heard around the room. “For we are to toast both my enchanting betrothed and my removal from the marriage mart! For those of you who wagered against me—you are justly served. Raise a glass anyway.”
The crowd laughed uproariously. Most had already imbibed despite the early hour, and the noise brought other men streaming downstairs to see what was occurring. Henry nodded at the servants, and one young man dashed back to the kitchens to replenish their supply.
When everyone had a glass in hand, Darcy raised his own. “Gentlemen,” he said. “Tomorrow I wed. May you all find such felicity in marriage as I anticipate.”
“Did you anticipate?” one man called out, as though he knew the answer. Several others guffawed.
“Darcy anticipate his vows? You clearly do not know my cousin,” Henry responded with a wink. “Never a man so prudish. Why do you think he wanted to marry his betrothed within three months of meeting her? He would not bed her before he wed her!”
Darcy felt the heat of his blush not only in his cheeks but his entire face. This seemed to confirm Henry’s declaration, for there was more laughter and many nodding heads.
“I never thought I would see the day, Darcy!” a man cried from the center of the crowd. It was Dudley, who was also happily accepting money from a scowling Mann.
“There are other considerations as well,” Henry said in a theatrical conversation with the men at the front of the crowd.
Darcy did his best to remain stoic. His ridiculous cousin was greatly enjoying himself, but Darcy could not reprimand him here.
Henry leaned in as though revealing a great secret, though he spoke loudly enough for much of the room to hear. “You know how our aunt in Kent will respond. Darcy is hoping to spare his bride and himself an angry scene.”
There were more men genuinely commiserating now. Even Mann was nodding his head. Apparently, Lady Catherine de Bourgh was not the only obstinate relation in England.
Darcy pushed away the joking insults that followed Henry’s comments and allowed himself to think of Elizabeth. Her eyes. Her plump lips. He again raised his glass. “Omnia vincit amor!” Love conquers all, indeed. It had certainly conquered him. Darcy drank deeply, and the men followed suit. He was forced to submit to a great deal of back-slapping, some rather ribald jests, and numerous complaints about lost wagers.
“Beware, gentlemen!” Henry cried, “For the best among us has fallen. Who will be next?”
There were groans and some remonstration. While Henry was chuckling with the crowd, Darcy felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He gazed around the room, searching for the source, and found it near the back wall, a thin figure with large ears and spectacles who was given wide berth by the other members of the club. No one had offered him a glass of wine, nor did it appear he had sought one. No one spoke with him or called his name. A pair of hazel eyes stared at Darcy with an anger so intense it was unsettling. He stiffened.
Howard.
Darcy’s own anger flared and propelled him forward. Before he could take a third step, however, Henry was in front of him.
“Do not alter the plan, Darcy,” he murmured. “You need evidence to act. Allow Richard to do his job.”
Before Darcy could reply, Henry had waded back into the throng of men and Howard was gone.
