Page 16 of Beyond Scandal and Desire
“Merely reading the newspapers and gossips rags.” His brow furrowed. “Although I had no luck finding anything about you in the Society pages.”
“Society frowns on my presence.”
“Wealth can make them overlook a great many ills. Wealth as well as the right friends, of course. Someone who could introduce you around. Say, if he were a partner.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” The earl seemed rather displeased that Mick didn’t jump on the offer.But it will be a cold day in hell before I take any action that will put coins in your pockets.
Although he could certainly see why Kipwick seemed desperate for money. He had no luck at all at the games, losing far more hands than he won. His glass was continually refilled with whiskey and tossed back. A man who didn’t keep a clear head when gambling garnered no sympathy from Mick when the gent found himself with an empty purse. By the time the earl discovered himself in that position, his reasoning ability had deserted him, and he was certain the next hand would reverse his fortunes.
With the earl’s signature on a sheet of foolscap, the owner of the club loaned Kipwick five hundred pounds, which he promptly lost. Mick doubted it would be the first marker Aiden collected. If the earl had been able to keep his head from lolling about, Aiden might have loaned him more, but Aiden Trewlove did possess a small amount of scruples.
Mick gathered up the earl. “Come along, let’s get you home.”
“I’ve yet to win back my losses.”
“Another night, perhaps.”
Kipwick might have been on the verge of nodding. Instead when his head went back, his eyes slammed closed, and he promptly crashed to the floor. Mick knelt beside him, checked for a pulse. Still alive.
“He’s a drunkard,” Aiden said from just over Mick’s shoulder.
“Apparently.”
“What are you going to do with him?”
“Tonight I’ll see him to his residence.” But one night in the future, he wouldn’t be so accommodating and the earl could remain wherever he fell.
Mick stood to the side while a couple of Aiden’s men trundled Kipwick inside the waiting carriage.
“Christ, you two look alike,” Aiden whispered beside him. “I don’t understand how he can’t see the resemblance.”
“The nobility never truly looks into the faces of those they consider beneath them. Besides, the beard helps. And he’s not looking for a resemblance. You are.”
“Like you and Kipwick, Finn and I have the same father and different mothers but we favor each other not in the least. But the two of you—”
“We favor our father. That will serve me well when the time comes.”
“How long before that happens?”
“Not long.” He held up two fingers. “I’ll take the marker.”
Aiden slipped it between the extended fingers. Mick tucked into a pocket, patted it lovingly. “Now that he knows where the place is, he’s bound to come here without me in the future. Keep a watch over him and send word when he does. His vices will lead to his downfall.”
“And the girl?”
“I’ll be the path to her downfall.”
Leaving his brother where he stood, Mick climbed into the carriage and settled himself on the squabs opposite Kipwick. No lantern burned inside the conveyance. Just as well. He didn’t want to have to take note of the similarities between them, didn’t want to be forced to acknowledge he was related to this man, this gent who had been raised within their father’s shadow.
The resentment boiled anew and he tamped it down. He didn’t want to contemplate that if his father had farmed him out to another woman, he might not be here now; he might be rotting in the soil instead.
His father.He needed another word for the man who’d sired him. Devil’s spawn perhaps.
The carriage came to a halt in front of a rather modest town house. Mick had been surprised the first time he’d seen it. Kipwick and Lady Aslyn would live here, he supposed. Eventually. When they married. If they married.
He leaped out of the carriage, then reached back in to drag out his half brother. Another word that didn’t quite fit the meaning. He had brothers—none of whom carried the same blood as he did, but he’d die for each of them without remorse, regret, or hesitation. This one, though, this one to whom he actually had a familial bond—
He handed him over to the waiting footman. “Take care with him.”
