Page 10 of The Vagabond Viscount
Augusta couldn’t care less about food. She just wanted the comfort of being close to her sibling. “Remember when Serafina stayed with us, and she wanted cook to make pasta?”
“Yes, it was almost as bad as when Mama insisted Serafina drink orgeat. I have nightmares about watching her face as she downed her first glass. Poor girl. All she really wanted was a glass of red wine,” said Victoria with an overdramatic shudder.
Augusta’s dark mood broke as she burst into laughter. Her Italian friend, Serafina de Luca, had been a guest of the Kembal family the previous year, and her Roman tastebuds had been assaulted by British cuisine. Her pleas for fresh pasta or any sort of Italian food had fallen on the cook’s deliberately deaf ears. “Yes, poor Serafina, she kept trying to tell Mama that at home she was allowed to drink wine, but instead she was forced to drink orgeat.”
The lovely Serafina had spent her entire two-week stay at Mowbray House being fed a steady diet of hearty roasts and potatoes.
Victoria held her brandy glass to Augusta’s. “Here’s a toast to special friends whom we miss, and to other friends who may just end up being that.”
Augusta quietly studied her drink. Her sister’s words held a great deal of truth. Serafina had gone home to Rome, leaving a hole in Augusta’s life that her friend’s occasional letters couldn’t possibly fill. And as for her other friend, she was coming to the conclusion that she may well have to set the relationship with Flynn back to what it had once been, simply friendship.
I have to stop meeting him in secret. I am only making this harder on myself.
“I expect you are right about Flynn. I can’t see a way that would have him go against his father.”
Victoria set her drink aside and turned to Augusta. “Hear me out on this would you? How do you think Viscount Cadnam would react if he saw you dancing with other men? With potential suitors. Would jealousy help to push him into finally doing something about confronting his father and demanding more money so he can offer for you?”
Augusta flinched, shocked at the very thought of manipulating Flynn in such a cruel manner. There were plenty of other young women in London society who wouldn’t hesitate to use such tactics to force a reluctant beau into offering marriage, but Augusta wasn’t one of them. Nor would she lower herself to begging.
She took a sip of the brandy and stared at the glass once more. The gold liquor was tart and bitter to the taste. “After tonight, we need to start stealing other bottles from Papa’s study. I can’t drink this—it’s awful. I think I might even prefer orgeat.”
Victoria took hold of Augusta’s hand. “It seems a night for making decisions.”
“Yes, I think it is. But while I won’t miss the brandy, I might need time to grieve over the other loss.”
The crack in her heart grew wider. And in the days ahead, it would likely break. As painful as it would be, Augusta sensed it was the only thing she could do. Let it happen, then allow grief to find a way for things to slowly mend.
Only then could Flynn Cadnam go back to being what he had been to her when they first met all those years ago. Her brother’s best friend, and nothing more.
“I think it is time for me to move on.”
Victoria shook her head. “But not before you throw the dice one last time. I want to see what Viscount Cadnam does when he sees other men paying you special attention. If that doesn’t force him to make a move, then as far as I am concerned, he doesn’t deserve to be anything in your life. Not even a friend.”
Could she cut Flynn out of her life completely? Until now, Augusta couldn’t have imagined doing such a thing. But then again, she hadn’t ever been at such a desperate point, one where she knew she had to do something.
“Alright, I am going to give him one last chance to save our love.”
“Good. And if he fails, then he only has himself to blame.”
ChapterSix
“Ah, Cadnam, just the chap I was looking for.”
Flynn had had enough experience with his father’s insistent creditors to know that those words were never good. Especially when he was in no position to be able to make a polite escape or pretend he hadn’t heard his name being called.
Seated by the fire at White’s club in St James’s Street, he had nowhere to run. A gentleman couldn’t just ignore another club member and make a dash for the door. It simply wasn’t done.
I am certain there is a rule against collecting debts while on club premises.
And if there wasn’t, then there damn well ought to be.
He lifted his gaze from scanning the gossip paragraphs of theMorning Heraldand gave his fellow associate a wan smile. In his experience, it always paid not to give any sort of encouragement to people who sought him out.
“Good afternoon,” said Flynn, his voice edged with suspicion.
To his surprise, the other man offered him a friendly grin. “I have some tickets to the theatre for tomorrow night, and I was wondering if you would like them. They come with entry to a private box, drinks, and a hot supper. Everything is included.”
Flynn’s eyebrows rose. No one ever offered him anything. It was always what he could do for others, which usually involved asking him to speak to his father and request that the earl make payment of an overdue account.
