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Stanford took his leave and before Randolph could return to his muddled thoughts a scuffle ensued outside the door to the breakfast room. He looked up to see Driscoll Rose looming over him. “Get up, Newton.”
“Come to gloat, did you? Well, I intend to visit with my solicitor today and make arrangements to have Miss Smythe returned to my care.”
“Your care?” Rose growled. “You call auctioning her off to a bunch of leering, debauched wastrels taking care of her?”
“’Tis none of your business.”
Driscoll leaned down, so close Randolph could smell the coffee on his breath. “Stand up.”
When Randolph didn’t move, Driscoll grabbed him by his cravat and hauled him to his feet. With one swift punch to the gut, Randolph collapsed to the floor, casting up his accounts all over the Aubusson carpet, the last of his finer things—everything else having been sold.
Driscoll grabbed a napkin from the table and dropped it on him, then growled, “Clean yourself up and stand. I’m not finished with you.”
If not for the crazed look in his visitor’s eyes, Randolph would have curled up into a ball and shouted for Stanford to toss Rose out the door. However, he wiped his mouth and climbed to his feet.
Rose grabbed him again and slammed him into his chair. “Miss Smythe is no longer your concern. She has accepted my hand in marriage.”
“Now see here,” Randolph sputtered, “she cannot marry without my permission.”
“Wrong, Newton. She will and damn your guardianship. And I will explain why.” Rose drew out a chair and sat, adjusting his jacket, and resting his ankle on his knee, as if they were having a gentlemanly conversation. “What you attempted to do last night is illegal. Right now, as we have this friendly conversation, my brother is headed to Scotland Yard to file charges against you.” He brushed lint off his jacket. “In case you’re wondering, we have men willing to step forward and testify as to the events here last night.”
“Nothing happened here last night except a gathering of men to enjoy cards and drinking. No different than any other gentlemen’s clubs. Or your own gaming club for that matter.”
Driscoll shook his head. “Stubborn, aren’t you? Well, the men we have already contacted have agreed to testify as to why there was a gathering here last night. Miss Smythe is also prepared to swear that you tried first to pay a gambling debt offering her services as a mistress, and then decided to make it a full auction instead.” He shook his head. “Not well done, Newton. Illegal. Immoral. Very untrustworthy. Very un-guardianly. The courts look down on men who abuse women and take advantage of their wards.”
His head pounding even more, and his stomach still prepared to bring up whatever was left, he closed his eyes and shook his head. “What do you want, Rose?”
Driscoll grabbed him by the cravat again and came within inches of his nose. “You will sign the papers I have with me, granting permission for Miss Amelia Smythe to marry Mr. Driscoll Rose, second son of the late Earl of Huntington and brother to the current Earl of Huntington.”
Randolph nodded. He knew when he was outflanked and outmaneuvered. How he would pay Lyons remained to be seen but facing the authorities with these ruinous charges left him no choice.
Rose whipped out papers from his pocket and opened them. Laying them flat on the table, he produced an ink pen and handed it to him.
“I am prepared to pay off your debt to Lyons, as well as offer you two hundred pounds once this contract is signed.”
Randolph frowned not quite sure he’d heard correctly. “Why would you do that?”
“Because, despite everything, you are Amelia’s only family. I want her to be happy and not constantly reminded of the debacle she suffered at your hands every time she sees you at an event.” He pulled a small linen sack from his pocket, along with a small piece of paper. “I will give you this money on one condition.”
“What is that?” Rose was too cagey to do this just from the goodness of his heart.
He handed him a ticket. “You will accept this for the next boat that sails from Southampton to America. You will use the two hundred pounds in that sack to start a new life for yourself. Hopefully one not as debauched as the one you’re leaving behind.”
Randolph’s heart thumped with both fear and excitement. Leaving his home and country did not appeal but having Lyons off his back and the chance to start a new life gave him something he hadn’t had in a long time.
Hope.
“I agree.” Randolph quickly signed his name and handed the pen back to Rose. Driscoll tossed the bag at him and handed him the ticket. “I will take care of Lyons.” He stood and once more pulled Randolph to his feet. “Just one more thing.”
Before Randolph could process what Rose said, the man drew back his arm and smashed his fist into his face, knocking him to the ground again.
He brushed his hands together and stared at him. “Have a nice trip.”
* * *
Driscoll returned to Hunt’s townhouse pleased with himself. If Hunt was able to secure the special license, which Driscoll had no reason to believe he wouldn’t, the wedding would take place as soon as Amelia and Diana purchased what they felt was suitable wedding attire for his bride. Hopefully that wouldn’t take too long.
He intended to take Amelia on a wedding trip but had spent time looking for a decent house to lease, since obviously his flat would not do for a married couple. He’d found two that were acceptable, but he wanted Amelia’s opinion before he committed to either of them.
