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He found a table in a shadowed corner with a glass of brandy before him and wondered what logic he had used in deciding to go to the club. He had no friends, was not interested in playing a card game that posed no challenge to him, and could easily have drunk liquor at home.
Perhaps it was just an urge to get out of the house.
Castigating himself for his lapse of judgment, Felton sipped his liquor while his thoughts still tumbled around his head like balls bouncing off each other.
“Captain Morgan? Is that you?”
Devil and damn, it’s the blasted Duke of Ayles.
The man who had broken his sister’s heart came out of the gloom, looking at him with a delighted look. “It is you. I did not know you were a member of the club, my good man.”
“Good evening, Your Grace,” Felton said calmly while internally, he wanted to curse.“How are you?”
“Middling. May I sit?” He said while gesturing to the empty chair before Felton.
“Please,” Felton gestured, even though every bone in his body wanted the man gone. “How are things?”
“Quite well,” Duke Ayles replied, while resting his glass on the table and fixing his gemstone studded cufflinks. “You’ve made a strong impression on my sister, Captain. Esther is quite taken with you.”
Stopping himself from pressing his lips tight, Felton forced a laugh, “And here I think I was a bit too blunt or even boorish with her. I am not a sentimental man, Your Grace. Being sentimental is not in my make-up.”
“Oh really?” the Duke snorted. “Then why is my sister parading the bracelet you gave her as if they were the Crown Jewels?”
Buying time by sipping his drink, Felton tipped his head, “’Tis a trifle.”
“Not to Esther, it is not,” the Duke stressed. “I do like you, Captain, and I think you will do very well for my sister’s husband.”
The glass in Felton’s hand nearly slipped, but he caught himself in time, “Are you sure she would not prefer a gentleman from nobility? One of your class?”
John cocked a brow, “Is that why you’re here, in the darkest corner of the clubhouse, stewing? You doubt yourself?”
“Possibly,” Felton said, while spying an opportunity to pry into the Duke’s life, “Haven’t you ever found yourself in my position? Was there a young lady who made you think twice about if you were fit to marry her?”
“It was the other way around,” the Duke replied. “But my ill-fated courtship is not the issue here, your intentions for my sister are. Esther is not swayed by money or aristocracy, as she has been reared with both. What does gain her attention is that of a man who can hold his own, and for some reason, she has this fascination with travel.
“If she were to choose a man by those characteristics, she would have married a merchant, but—” John shrugged, “—Mother would have never allowed that.”
Felton’s fist tightened just so around the glass, as he was wont to jump to the conclusion that Esther was raised to demean those who were less than her, but the man had mentioned his mother. And not once had he gotten the impression that Esther found him unworthy of her.
From last night, it seems that she thinks that she is unworthy of me…well, intimately.
“I am only a servant of the Realm,” Felton said, “how am I any different?”
“You an esteemed captain of the Royal Navy, and fought for our country,” the Duke clarified. “I don’t see which merchant can mirror what you have done. Tradesmen have their place, just like warriors have theirs, and there is no overlap. Compare yourself all you would like, I, on the other hand, see a man who is worthy of praises and good life ahead.”
Resting the glass, Felton prodded, “And by happy life, are you not-so-subtly telling me that having Lady Harewood as my wife would be the best thing for me?”
The Duke grinned, stood, and took his glass, “I don’t think I said that, but if you think so…” he lifted his drink. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts. Please excuse me, Captain.”
Felton felt even more conflicted with the Duke gone, and eventually stopped drinking and wound his way out the clubhouse. The cold night air was brisk against his face as he sent for his carriage and waited for it to arrive.
Mayhap I should not lump Esther in with her condescending mother and brother.
When the carriage came around, he boarded it and sank into his seat as he was driven back to the apartment. Felton felt tired—bone tired. He had launched himself headway into a situation that he should have waded in. The pretence with Esther was starting to drag on him, but he was not sure how he could pry himself away from the situation.
I could always just admit the truth…
But even that made his stomach clench tightly. How would Esther take to knowing that he had tricked her? Then again, the lynchpin of how he would act rested on what Catherine would tell him about her and Duke Ayles' situation.
