Page 14 of The Scoundrel of Drury Lane
“One drink, that’s all. Then you can return to your green-ribbon girl,” Darius teased.
“She’s not my girl,” Kit replied. “I do need to return to the theater, however. I mean to see the clerk’s daughter tonight.” He wanted to see the woman. Assess her. Once he did, he would determine how best to exact his revenge.
Darius said nothing, but the merriment in his eyes was gone. Instead he looked worried, and for some reason that angered Kit. He didn’t want his friends worrying about him. He’d survived everything life could throw at him for the past seven years.
It was his enemies’ turn to worry now.
4
Kit was surprised he didn’t hear actual crickets chirping the moment he walked into the main cardroom at Berkley’s. The boisterous room turned as quiet as a tomb; a wave of silence hushed the casual talk that had filled the room with a comfortable atmosphere. Darius stood right beside him as dozens of faces turned Kit’s way, his presence behind Kit an obvious show of support, for which Kit was grateful.
One older gentleman who held a cigar between his lips gaped at Kit, his mouth open like a fish suddenly plucked from the water. His cigar tumbled to the floor. The man standing beside him crushed the still burning tip beneath his boot before it set the rug on fire. Two others were in the midst of pouring drinks, and their brandy spilled over the tops of the glasses. The rest simply stared at Kit.
“Well, I think it’s safe to say everyone now knows you’re back in England,” Darius said.
“Yes, they do.” Kit yearned to have his beard and his tattered sailor’s clothing back. He wanted to vanish into the shadows and never be seen by any of these men again. It was too late for that. He was committed to his plan. His hand twitched, and he nearly moved to touch his smoothly shaven skin. Feeling like a stranger in his own body, he stood there trying to find some sense of recognition of himself, and failing.
A tall, blond-haired man rose from his game of cards and approached them. The man’s intense blue eyes swept over Kit from head to toe, and he felt the man’s scrutiny like a physical touch.
“Kentwell, may I introduce you to Lord Lennox?” Darius said.
The man bowed. “Glad to see that you are back, Lord Kentwell. We should speak about your father’s investments at your earliest convenience.”
Kit shook Lennox’s hand. So this was the man his friends had mentioned. The powerful and wealthy baron whom they had trusted to help his father. And by all accounts, the man had done admirably.
“I understand I have you to thank for assisting my father these last few years.” Kit spoke softly, not wishing anyone but Lennox and Darius to hear him.
“I require no thanks, as it was good business,” Lennox replied in complete seriousness. “He was a good man, your father, and any decent gentleman should stand by a good man in his hour of need.”
Kit managed a nod, but no words would come. Thinking of his father elicited an ache that left it hard for him to breathe, let alone speak.
“Do pay a call on me when you’re ready,” Lennox said. With a bow, he returned to his table. The men seated with him gave Kit supportive nods of acknowledgment. He recognized one among their number as a man who’d been one year ahead of him at Eton, Charles Humphrey, the Earl of Lonsdale.
“Glad to have you back, Kentwell,” his former classmate declared in a voice loud enough to cause a new ruffle of feathers amongst the older men in the room. Not that Charles cared, and that made Kit return the man’s smile.
Then Kit resumed his gaze around the room, staring down each man until he looked away. If he was to feel like a damned caged animal, he could at least turn away their stares with his own. He kept his spine straight, his muscles tight, one move away from throwing a punch at any who dared utter a word against him.
“Come on,” Darius murmured as he moved ahead of Kit deeper into the cardroom. “You can’t go starting a fight today. The others are waiting for us.”
With a grunt, Kit followed Darius through the maze of connected rooms until they reached the Bombay Room. It was a private room painted in a rich gold. The gold walls were contrasted by striking black palm fronds that were painted as if growing from the base of the floorboards to decorate the walls. The lamps were lit, enhancing the room’s glow even more golden.
Christ, he’d forgotten this place. The Bombay Room. He’d come here often as a young buck with his friends during that year between age eighteen and nineteen. It hadn’t changed in all the time he’d been away. He took in every detail, from the curtains hanging against the windows to the perfectly polished furniture and the fully stocked bottles on the sideboard table.
But this time, his mind was also thinking about the dozens of servants who kept the entire club, not just this room, spotless and running efficiently. He had developed a healthy respect for the working classes, more than his friends would ever understand, and it left him feeling even more detached from the so-called high society that he belonged to once more.
Felix and Warren sat at the main card table in the room, tossing a few hands of cards while they spoke softly. Felix said something with a wry grin and Warren laughed, the sound so familiar even after so many years that it wrenched his heart.
How many nights had he lain on a dirt floor listening to the snores of men around him, his muscles sore and every bone aching as though he were a thousand years old. He’d imagined himself right here, listening to his friends’ laughter accompanied by the shuffle of cards and the clink of brandy glasses as they reveled in their innocent youth? The small pleasures he’d taken for granted over and over... they were his once again, but it didn’t feel the same. Would it ever feel the way it once had? Or was he cut off from the past forever?
“Is it only you two?” Darius asked.
Felix and Warren both turned, and Felix’s jaw visibly dropped while Warren let out a low whistle.
“By God, it reallyisyou, Kit.” Warren chuckled. “I admit, I half expected someone else beneath that hair and beard, but here you are.”
Unused to his friends and their gentle teasing, Kit grimaced and touched his face, wishing his beard to still be there. The nakedness of his face felt more vulnerable than he liked.
“Lionel had a family dinner,” Warren explained. “Octavia is debuting this year, and she’s practicing her skills at a few dinner parties before she’s presented at court.”
