Page 4 of Her Notorious Rake
“Only a little bit in the morning, and my spirits are wonderfully lifted for the rest of the day. This is my first morning taking it, and already, the difference is remarkable.”
Dalton forced another smile, for his mother’s sake. “Perhaps it’s time we take a trip to the sea. You always feel better after such occasions.”
“Ah, but the season will be in full swing. I must be here to support Celeste,” Mother raised her own glass to her lips. “She needs as much fortitude as possible, and with my melancholia gone, I can offer her encouragement.”
“Perhaps in late summer,” Uncle Ernest smirked.
Dalton shot him a hard look and returned to picking at the food on his plate. He didn’t get down more than three bites and excused quickly himself to get a breath of fresh air. Perhaps he should venture over to the fencing court on Old Bond Street.
He thought that it would lift his spirits to see his old friend, Lord Theodore Longworth. A glance at his pocket watch toldhim that he had just enough time to make it before Theodore’s routine fencing practice ended. Theodore followed a strict daily regimen that did not include a night of carousing and drinking until the wee hours of the morning.
Afterward, he would improve with reading, and would then go shooting for a time. Once upon a time, he had joined Dalton in the throes of London sousing, but as of late, he’d taken a more serious turn of mind, and eschewed such wild behavior from his life completely.
Sure enough, Dalton found Theodore engaged in a fencing match with Lord Neville, an elderly gentleman who insisted on frequenting the fencing courts, despite his pitiable lack of agility.
Lord Neville sagged against the wall, wheezing, as Theodore turned at the sound of Dalton’s greeting, pulling off his fencing cover. “Blakemore! Have you come to contest me?”
Dalton nearly grimaced, but as wretched as fencing sounded, he would not let a night of carousing get the best of him. “I certainly have.”
Several footmen helped him get ready, and once he was ready, he headed out to face Theodore waiting for him. The match began, but it was over sooner than usual. Dalton gave his head a shake, willing the ache in his head to go away. It didn’t.
“Again,” he told Theodore. The match started again, but it ended when Dalton’s head began to spin, and Theodore managed to strike the winning move.
“Good Lord, Blakemore. I’m afraid your excessive pursuits have made you a poor fencing partner.”
“Forgive me,” Dalton panted, as Wilson supplied him with a towel. “Just, give me a moment.”
“You’re as white as a sheet.”
Dalton shot him a look. “It will pass. I’m just a touch under the weather.”
Theodore rolled his eyes. “Enough. Walk with me,” he jerkedhis chin towards the nearby doors. “You’re on the verge of passing out. Some fresh air will do you good.”
Once outside, walking the gravel path towards the nearby hedge-maze, Theodore adopted a stern tone. “I fret about you, Blakemore.”
“Fret about me?”
“Now, I beg you to not take offense. But as your oldest—and only—friend, I feel it is my duty to address a concerning matter. The drinking, the gambling. The reveling at that gentleman’s club. It’s going to be your death.”
Dalton set his features into a smooth, unreadable expression, swinging his cane in the air. He clenched his jaw, turning to watch a butterfly dance along in the breeze.
“I know it is all a result of your father, and your dear mother, God bless her. But you are ruining yourself. Abominably. And I shall be accursed if I remain silent and allow such a thing to transpire without voicing my discontent.”
“Longworth, I shall be fine.”
“Verily, you shall find yourself beneath the earth. Or so drowned in debt that you might as well be.”
“I’m not going into debt. I know when to sit out a game.”
“And what of the drinking? You will be apoplectic.”
Trust Theodore to bring brutal honesty to any conversation. Dalton preferred that sort of honesty, but just now he wished his friend would hold off. “Longworth. I shall be fine,” he spoke in a low, measured voice, but to his credit, Theodore dropped the matter. Albeit with a sigh.
***
“Now who do you suppose that is?” Gemma wondered aloud to no one in particular. She watched a strangely grand carriage pull to a halt on the road in front of the cottage, and a tall, imposing woman emerged from it draped in shimmering silk.She set down her broom with a clatter and hurried out back into the garden, where Iris was pruning some of the rose bushes. “Mama! We have a guest!”
Iris nearly dropped the shears in her haste. She all but ran to the window just as the guest knocked on the door. “Did you see who it was?” she demanded of Gemma in a whisper.
