Page 31 of Sinful Persuasion of a Lady in the Making
Chapter Eleven
“Well, well, well,” the skinny man said, looking up from his seat at the card table. “If it isn’t Lord Sebastian Hartwood himself, gracing us with his presence.”
“Oh, Blackmore,” Sebastian said, taking a chair from the side of the room and joining the gentlemen at the table. “Your wit overwhelms on a daily basis.”
“It’s not like you to be late, Hartwood,” William said, cards in hand ready to deal. “You in? Put your coins on the table if so.”
Sebastian emptied his pockets, the coins rattling on the table.
“Deal me in,” he said, nodding to William.
These men were his usual crowd. On his left was Lord Percival Blackmore, Marquess and unmarried at nine-and-thirty, with no desire for a wife either. He was tall and overly thin, most probably in thanks to too much drink and not enough sustenance.
To his right was Lord William Ellis, a young thing at merely one-and-twenty but already disillusioned with life and well-ensconced in their weekly meetings. He was always smart, always full of wit and humor, and he was so handsome he had all ladies falling at his feet.
“Why are you so late anyway?” Finally, and turning his gaze fully on Sebastian, was one Mr. Roger Fitzroy, an accountant to the rich and wealthy, and always eager to join in their debauchery.
“I had a delicate matter which needed my attention,” Sebastian said, throwing Fitzroy a withering look.
“Ah yes,” Blackmore replied. “I know of such matters. In fact, I feel such a matter might arise for myself later on, as we pass by the girls on our way home.”
“Paying for it again, Blackmore?” Fitzroy asked with a chuckle as he threw the cards across the table. “Put down your blinds, Lads, let’s get this game moving.”
“He has to pay for it,” William said, picking up his cards and peeking at the corners. “Can’t get it any other way, can you, Blackmore?”
“We’re not all as pretty as you, young William,” Blackmore sighed, flicking a coin into the middle of the table. “I’ll play,” he said, then turned back to William. “Mark my words, those looks of yours will fade one day, and then you’ll be in the same boat as me.”
William snorted with laughter. “Not a chance, old man. I have no intention to wind up a piece of string such as yourself. Hartwood, you playing?”
Sebastian sighed. “Not if you insist on giving me such terrible cards,” he said, throwing them into the middle of the table. “I fold.”
“Already, Old Man?” William sniggered. “You’re losing your nerve.”
“He never had any nerve in the first place,” Fitzroy said, flicking his own coin into the middle of the table and then proceeding to turn over the next cards.
“I suppose you’re right,” Sebastian said, a little sadly, wondering why the evening suddenly felt so different.
He normally reveled in such banter, the men teasing each other relentlessly and freely. But right then, it felt to Sebastian like the last place in the world he wished to be. Talking to Miss Jones had been much more preferable.
How has she got under my skin when so many others just pass through my night?
“What’s got into you?” Blackmore asked. “It’s not like you to take an insult like that without giving anything back.”
“Oh,” Sebastian said, shaking his head, “tired, that’s all.”
“Left you feeling frustrated and unsatisfied, did she?” William asked with a smirk.
“Who?” Sebastian asked, turning to William with surprise.
“Whatever woman of the night you were with earlier on. That is why you were late, is it not?” Fitzroy asked. “No shame in it, Old Man. Everyone partakes, on occasion.”
“She is not awoman of the night!” Sebastian snapped.
Fitzroy held his hands up in surrender.
“Sorry, Hartwood. Didn’t meant to hit a nerve.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Sebastian said, “Ignore me. As I said, I’m tired. And the strangest thing happened to me tonight.”
