Page 73 of Enslaved to the Seduction of a Lady
“What?”
Lord Denninson’s face was crushed with confusion and Luke felt a bolt of sympathy for him. It was exactly the feeling he’d had talking to Mary White. It felt strangely satisfying to know he had more information than someone else, for a change.
“I…” Lord Denninson looked around the street, “I don’t understand.”
“Look, there’s a tavern around the corner,” Luke said. “Why don’t we go and fetch ourselves a drink, and I’ll tell you everything I know.”
“Atavern?” Lord Denninson asked. He looked down at himself and then laughed. “Let’s forget the tavern. My coach is around the corner. We’ll go to my club, where we can have a proper drink—and where we will not be put upon by petty thieves.”
Luke frowned at him, taking his words as an insult. Lord Denninson sighed and shook his head.
“No, goodness, Mr. Jones. That did not come out quite as I meant it. There is nothing wrong with your taverns, as such. But honestly, they will take one look at me and—”
“See you as an easy target. I understand.” Luke then looked down at his own clothes—clean and reasonably new, but not a patch on the finery of a lord. “But the club—”
“Will assume you are one of my servants, at the worst. Besides, we have an unspoken rule there—we donotask questions.”
“All right,” Luke said. He pushed his lips together, bobbing his head as he talked himself into leaving with the lord. “Let’s go.”
They said little on the journey to the club, but they glanced at each other often, both in awe. Luke struggled to piece everything together, but the more he looked at Lord Denninson, the more he recognized.
Those eyes, the warm brown glint of them, it reminded him so much of Jenny’s eyes. And the shape of his jaw had something of his own. In fact, the more Luke looked at him, the more he became convinced that they were, indeed, brothers.
At the club, they took a small table in the far corner of the room, tucked away from prying ears or eyes that sought out too much. It was a large room, full of sunlight and tables all different sizes.
Luke squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable in his surroundings. For a man who was normally so confident in himself, the finery around him made him feel awkward. He focused on Lord Denninson instead.
“I think we’ll both take a brandy,” Lord Denninson said, looking briefly at Luke for confirmation.
“Oh, yes, yes please,” Luke said eagerly.
Brandy really was a rare treat, and he had no doubt that the club’s brandy would be significantly better than that at the local taverns.
Luke took a sip as soon as it arrived, then winced at the burn. He was right. It was the sweetest, smoothest brandy he had ever had the fortune to try. He licked his lips, cradled his hands around the bowl glass, and looked up at Lord Denninson to find him staring at him in amazement.
Lord Denninson took in a breath, about to say something, but then he closed his mouth, clearly uncertain. Then Luke tried.
“I suppose this is a little peculiar.”
“You can say that again,” Lord Denninson said, snorting with laughter. “Did you know?”
“Know what, My Lord?”
“That… that we’re brothers,” he said.
“No, not until we were in the street. I may have worked it out a second or two before you, but really not long.”
“And my—our—mother?”
“Dead,” Luke said. “I’m sorry.”
Lord Denninson shrugged. “I expected as much. And as awful as this sounds, it’s hard to mourn someone you never met.”
“I can understand that,” Luke said.
Over the next two brandies, Luke told the lord everything he had learned from Mrs. White.
“So we really are brothers, then, Mr. Jones,” Lord Denninson said.
