Page 39 of Her Notorious Rake
“I’ve just come from Vauxhall Gardens,” Dalton waved his hand. “Do you have any whiskey on hand?”
“Just coffee,” Theodore sighed. He’d obviously resigned himself to this impromptu visit.
“That will do. I must have a word with you, friend.”
“Heavens,” Theodore shook his head, like a dog shaking off water. He turned to the butler. “Please have a pot of coffee prepared.”
“Of course, my Lord,” the heavyset butler bowed, and disappeared into the hall.
Theodore sank onto one of the settees before the hearth, and Dalton followed suit, before shooting to his feet and stalking over to the mantle, leaning against it. He gazed down into the fire, watching the flames leap and pirouette.
“You, Theodore, are a veritable gentleman. Which I have always admired you for.”
“Thank you,” Theodore snorted.
“That being said, I seek your most sage advice regarding a delicate matter, which I cannot wait to discuss any longer.”
“We could have discussed this at coffee the other morning—”
“I was not yet prepared to face the facts of the matter.”
“Ah, well. Of course. Go on, then. Enlighten me on what vexes you so.”
“Vexes,” Dalton scrubbed a hand down his face. “It’s more than that.”
Theodore leaned back on the couch, as if settling himself in to be entertained. Dalton plucked one of the buds from the bouquet on the mantle, bringing it to his nose. It was a little rose, small and dainty, unassuming. After a long pause, he sighed. “Gemma Hayesworth entrances me, deeply.”
Theodore did not respond for another prolonged moment, studying Dalton with an unreadable expression.
Dalton shifted his weight from one foot to the other before demanding, “Come. What am I to do about it?”
“’Do about it’?” Theodore repeated, his mouth twitching. “What is there to do? You are in love. Besotted. With Gemma Hayesworth, the talk of London.”
Dalton groaned. “In love? You suppose that’s what it is?”
“You’ve never been in love before, have you?” Theodore chuckled.
“No.” Dalton blinked, frowning. “Have you?”
“Once, years ago. As a mere boy. But then I went to Oxford, and when I returned…”
“She’d flown into the arms of another?” Dalton grimaced.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Just then, the butler hurried in with a tray laden with a silver coffee pot, cups and saucers, and refreshments. He set it upon the drawing room sideboard and began to pour the coffee, requesting if they should desire milk and sugar in it.
Dalton returned to the settee across from where Theodore sat and rested leaning on the sofa’s arm.
“Ever since you’ve met her, you’ve been utterly changed. Your outlook is refreshed, your spirits lifted. And I haven’t seen you like that since before your father’s passing.”
“But I am nothing more than a profligate. A libertine. A wastrel who has lost his direction in life.”
“You can find it again. Andyouare the only one condemning yourself to such a way of life.”
Dalton waved his hand. “I was right to name you a true gentleman, was I not?”
Theodore laughed more loudly this time, pressing a hand to his chest and bowing his head as if accepting a great commendation. “Indeed, you were.”
