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“You like Mirabelle, I saw it when we played croquet.” Ken’s fist clenched against his thigh as he stared down his friend.
“She’s trouble,” Somersworth answered, his eyes hard. “Just like the rest of the Smiths.”
Ken’s lips curled. “You’re trouble and I still like you.”
“As long as I don’t go near any of the women in your life,” Somersworth snapped back. “You were like that with Emily too. Like I’d break her if I came near and yet you still let her marry into that mad family.”
Ken blinked. So the problem wasn’t Mirabelle at all. Somersworth was angry with him about Emily. He’d wished to court her and Ken hadn’t allowed it. “Emily didn’t feel that way about you.”
Somersworth gave him a sullen look. “And how do you feel about Mirabelle?”
“I…” His jaw worked as he shook his head. “That’s none of your business.”
“Isn’t it?” Somersworth sat forward. “We’ve been your friend for years even though you’ve been tied to your sister’s apron. Now you’re finally free and we have real plans to adventure together, and you’re about to ruin them all…” His arms spread wide.
“What am I doing?”
“You’re trying to get married.”
The words hung in the air as Ken tried to respond. “Married? That’s mad.”
Upton shook his head. “It isn’t. You don’t see yourself around her.”
“I’m well aware that my time for freedom has finally arrived.” He straightened his spine. “I’m using Mirabelle to get real updates about Emily so that I might be comfortable leaving her.”
“Good,” Somersworth muttered. “That is more like it.”
“More like it?” he asked, puzzling over the sick dread that settled in his stomach.
Somersworth looked out the window, still appearing sullen. He didn’t meet Ken’s gaze as he said, “You are supposed to be having fun in your freedom.”
But he was having fun. A great deal of it. Just not the sort that Somersworth suggested.
“What he needs is a night out.” Upton nodded along with his own words.
“When?” he asked, shifting in his seat.
“Tonight,” Somersworth said with a slap of his palms. “The club is opening. It’s the perfect opportunity.”
Tonight. It was the night he’d been waiting for years to have. He’d go out and come home to an empty house. No woman waiting for him. Needing him.
Why did that sound empty and hollow instead of exciting?
CHAPTEREIGHT
Later that evening,Ken stood by a gaming table, jeering men all around him, and he knew exactly why this evening’s festivities had lacked appeal.
It was dreadful.
He swallowed down another gulp of his whiskey, knowing he was halfway to completely drunk but still not enjoying himself. The room blurred for a moment before he managed to focus again.
This was his club. Hell’s Corner brimmed with clientele as they stood about highly polished tables, the bright red paint reflecting the gold of candlelight.
Around them, crystal glasses winked with the reds and ambers of liquor, men’s cheers and cries as they won or lost filling the intimate space.
The dealers, who never drank, moved with quick, sure hands, quiet smiles on their faces as they kept the games moving, ensuring clients bet again no matter the outcome of the previous play.
And all Ken could think about was Mirabelle.
