Read Online Lady Belling's Secret by Amylynn Bright - Free Book Online
Authors: Amylynn Bright
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the club shortly.
Thomas handed his hat, walking stick and gloves to the butler at the door, and headed through the richly appointed rooms. He joined several old acquaintances at a card table and ordered a brandy from a footman. It wasn’t long before Christian arrived with a gentleman whom Thomas couldn’t remember meeting before. Still, he had a sinking feeling he knew who the gentleman would prove to be. He made a conscious effort to keep from glaring.
“Thomas, old man,” Christian greeted him with a familiar clap on the shoulder. “Meet my friend Henry Cavendish, Marquess of Dalton.” And turning to Dalton he said, “My friend Thomas Wallingham, Earl of Harrington.”
Thomas stood and shook the other man’s hand. “Dalton.” He nodded and made every effort to reserve judgment, but he was pretty sure he hated the man on the spot.
“Harrington,” Dalton responded. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Good to hear you’re back safe from the wars. King’s Navy, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Damn sorry to hear about your brother.” Both the man’s tone and expression were sincere. “He was a good man.”
Thomas didn’t reply. He had his own feelings about his brother that didn’t need airing at a poker game. Besides, Basil was dead.
“How are you faring at the table?” Christian smiled, clearly seeing the large sum of money piled in front of Thomas.
Thomas raised his eyebrows and replied tauntingly, “Sit down and see for yourself.”
“You are going to be sorry you made that suggestion.” Christian laughed and threw himself down in the leather chair next to him.
“I believe I will as well.” Dalton lowered himself in the chair directly across the table from Thomas.
Thomas raised his hand to a footman and signaled for more brandy. “Better make it a bottle,” he told the servant.
He surveyed his opponents. On his right sat his best friend; across the table, his bitter rival. Of course, Dalton didn’t know that they were rivals. Yet. Thomas had to wonder briefly, if forced to pick, on which side Christian would fall? He made his expression amiable and settled in for a conversation. Know thy enemy, right?
“So, Dalton, how is it that I never met you in school? You didn’t attend Eton or Oxford?” Thomas asked.
“Both,” Dalton conceded. “But I was three years behind you.”
“Ah, a whippersnapper.” He was certain he knew the type—one of the younger sort at school, the detestable hangers-on of their popular crowd.
“You’d think so.” Christian shuffled the cards with a curt snap. “But no. Dalton ran with the Lawrence brothers and their lot.”
Thomas’s eyebrows lifted. “The Lawrence brothers?” Damn, not a whippersnapper after all. The Lawrence brothers and the boys who ran with them were the up-and-coming boys behind him and Christian. Their reputation was one of good-natured mischief and gallantry towards the village lasses. Despite himself, his opinion of Dalton elevated ever so slightly.
“We were all stupid lads then.” Dalton picked up the cards dealt him and glanced at them briefly before making a quick bet.
Christian nodded. “I’d like to think I still retain some of that same spirit from when we were boys.”
“I’ve been back less than a week, Christian,” Thomas agreed, “and you’ve not proven to me that you’ve changed much since then.”
Christian flashed a toothy grin before he tossed in his cards.
“So whatever happened to the Lawrence brothers?” Thomas asked and tossed in his cards as well. He barely registered the loss of the hand. “George and Marvin, right? God, they were crazy, madcap chaps.”
Christian answered, “George died of influenza in ’07. Marvin left for America but his ship went down.”
“Oh. I didn’t hear that while I was away.” Thomas took a thoughtful sip of his brandy. “It seems I missed a lot while I was gone.” Of course, his thoughts strayed immediately to Francesca. She was still a
Thomas handed his hat, walking stick and gloves to the butler at the door, and headed through the richly appointed rooms. He joined several old acquaintances at a card table and ordered a brandy from a footman. It wasn’t long before Christian arrived with a gentleman whom Thomas couldn’t remember meeting before. Still, he had a sinking feeling he knew who the gentleman would prove to be. He made a conscious effort to keep from glaring.
“Thomas, old man,” Christian greeted him with a familiar clap on the shoulder. “Meet my friend Henry Cavendish, Marquess of Dalton.” And turning to Dalton he said, “My friend Thomas Wallingham, Earl of Harrington.”
Thomas stood and shook the other man’s hand. “Dalton.” He nodded and made every effort to reserve judgment, but he was pretty sure he hated the man on the spot.
“Harrington,” Dalton responded. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Good to hear you’re back safe from the wars. King’s Navy, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Damn sorry to hear about your brother.” Both the man’s tone and expression were sincere. “He was a good man.”
Thomas didn’t reply. He had his own feelings about his brother that didn’t need airing at a poker game. Besides, Basil was dead.
“How are you faring at the table?” Christian smiled, clearly seeing the large sum of money piled in front of Thomas.
Thomas raised his eyebrows and replied tauntingly, “Sit down and see for yourself.”
“You are going to be sorry you made that suggestion.” Christian laughed and threw himself down in the leather chair next to him.
“I believe I will as well.” Dalton lowered himself in the chair directly across the table from Thomas.
Thomas raised his hand to a footman and signaled for more brandy. “Better make it a bottle,” he told the servant.
He surveyed his opponents. On his right sat his best friend; across the table, his bitter rival. Of course, Dalton didn’t know that they were rivals. Yet. Thomas had to wonder briefly, if forced to pick, on which side Christian would fall? He made his expression amiable and settled in for a conversation. Know thy enemy, right?
“So, Dalton, how is it that I never met you in school? You didn’t attend Eton or Oxford?” Thomas asked.
“Both,” Dalton conceded. “But I was three years behind you.”
“Ah, a whippersnapper.” He was certain he knew the type—one of the younger sort at school, the detestable hangers-on of their popular crowd.
“You’d think so.” Christian shuffled the cards with a curt snap. “But no. Dalton ran with the Lawrence brothers and their lot.”
Thomas’s eyebrows lifted. “The Lawrence brothers?” Damn, not a whippersnapper after all. The Lawrence brothers and the boys who ran with them were the up-and-coming boys behind him and Christian. Their reputation was one of good-natured mischief and gallantry towards the village lasses. Despite himself, his opinion of Dalton elevated ever so slightly.
“We were all stupid lads then.” Dalton picked up the cards dealt him and glanced at them briefly before making a quick bet.
Christian nodded. “I’d like to think I still retain some of that same spirit from when we were boys.”
“I’ve been back less than a week, Christian,” Thomas agreed, “and you’ve not proven to me that you’ve changed much since then.”
Christian flashed a toothy grin before he tossed in his cards.
“So whatever happened to the Lawrence brothers?” Thomas asked and tossed in his cards as well. He barely registered the loss of the hand. “George and Marvin, right? God, they were crazy, madcap chaps.”
Christian answered, “George died of influenza in ’07. Marvin left for America but his ship went down.”
“Oh. I didn’t hear that while I was away.” Thomas took a thoughtful sip of his brandy. “It seems I missed a lot while I was gone.” Of course, his thoughts strayed immediately to Francesca. She was still a
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