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“Why aren’t we using the front entrance?” Harry scowled at Cam’s back, as he led him through a labyrinth of dark tunnels that led through the walls and basement of Jenner’s.
“Do you want to deal with every young rake on the main floor? I thought that was everyone you were trying to avoid,” Cam called from up ahead, moving carefully through the tight passage.
“Rohan, you didn’t tell me that I would need to wear my corset to fit through these hallways,” Leo complained from the rear of the group, grumbling as he turned sideways to move around a particularly small corner.
“I forgot it was so cramped,” Cam answered, a soft touch of nostalgia in his voice.
“It was probably much roomier when you were twelve,” Harry said, wryly. “And nobody asked you to come, Ramsay.”
“You said you were going to Jenner’s! I assumed it was for hazards and brandy, not playing pirate’s cave!”
Cam sighed, and didn’t bother to stop his brother-in-laws squabble. They’d been fighting like this for twenty years, and he was sure they weren’t about to stop any time soon. His foot tapped and found a hollow point in the wall, meaning he had calculated their point exactly right (as usual). “The door,” he called behind them, even though they were still arguing back and forth.
Not ceasing for a moment, Ramsay and Rutledge followed Cam through the small hidden opening that led into one of the private parlors in Jenner’s. It was not intended for members to lounge and take a break in this particular parlor, it was where the Duke of Kingston received his more important- and more confidential- guests. They had arrived a bit early for their meeting, in part because the Rutledge had been a flurry of feminine frippery for the past few weeks, with Poppy and Cat planning every last detail of their daughter’s combined coming out ball, and both Harry and Leo sorely needed some time away from laces and silks and menu planning. And so Cam expected that they would have beaten their host to the parlor, but they were wrong.
Sebastian, Lord Kingston was seated at his large oak desk, shouting at someone sitting opposite him, a person who was so short that he could not be seen over the top of the chair. “You rogue, you will have ruined me, this is not the last you’ll hear of this!” He stopped short, with a wild grin as he watched three grown men (including a viscount and one of the most powerful men in London) crawl through the trap door behind the fireplace like mischievous boys. “Rohan,” he greeted Cam, coming around to the front of his desk.
“My lord,” Cam answered, his dark eyes twinkling. It was still strange to think of his old friend as the Duke of Kingston, when he’d known him as Sebastian St. Vincent for so many years.
The chair facing Sebastian’s desk turned around, and there stood a young boy of ten years with blond curls and a face that would be angelic were it not for the wickedness glinting in the winter-blue eyes, the eyes of his father. Lord and Lady Kingston caused a scandal (not for the first time) when Lady Kingston appeared at her eldest daughter’s wedding enceinte. It was in the very early stages, but any woman who’d had a child could tell, and it sent tongues wagging. It was enough that a lady would be seen in public when she should be confined in her home, but at her age, and giving away a daughter in marriage!
Lord Kingston and Harry Rutledge had always liked each other, and had the particular bond between them of having three daughters each. As Kingston’s girls (Phoebe, Miranda and Claire) were a few years older than his own, Harry made it a point to observe his habits on fatherhood. As Phoebe St. Vincent grew older, into a red-haired beauty (not unlike his own Elizabeth), the realization started to come over London that with Kingston having no male heir to leave his title to (not to mention the generous fortune he had built at Jenner’s), and no far flung cousins to swoop in at the last moment, Phoebe’s husband would have the fortune of gaining a very handsome dowry. This idea was presented to Kingston in a rather unpleasant way.
As he was making his usual rounds on the main floor of Jenner’s one fairly quiet autumn evening, his attention was brought to a Mr. William Higgins, the second son of a viscount, a drunkard and a reprobate. Mr. Higgins was half in his cups and boasting to the other fellows at his table that soon enough, ‘Little’ Lady Phoebe would be ripe for the picking, and wasn’t he just the harvester to pluck her? He didn’t seem to notice that no one at the table joined in on his laughter. It was only too late that he realized that Kingston was standing behind him, listening to every word.
He was quickly plucked from the table and dragged from the club and not seen again. Some said that he had crawled off to a cousin in Boston, when he would not be received in London anywhere (nor was his credit accepted at Jenner’s or any other gaming club, decent or otherwise). And any other fortune hunters that had their eye on Lady Phoebe wisely set their sights elsewhere. “Christ,” Sebastian remarked to Cam one night, after recounting the thrashing Higgins received in the back alley by Kingston himself, and three of his larger runners. “I need a bloody heir.”
“It’s only just occurred to you, phral?”
Sebastian grinned, and for a second he was once again the most wicked rake in London. “I suppose I didn’t realize how very old I am, Rohan.”
Not too old as it turned out, and it became more obvious that Lady Kingston was in the family way, and soon enough, the future Duke of Kingston was born, as sinfully beautiful and blonde as his father had been, and as the boy grew into the most charming toddler the town had ever seen, parents of baby daughters had serious discussions of locking their girls away, if the son were to be anything like the father.
And he was his spitting image, as he went to stand next to his father. “Gabriel, you remember Mr. Rohan, don’t you?” Sebastian pushed him towards Cam in an affectionate way.
“Cam,” he grinned.
“And this is Mr. Rutledge, and Lord Ramsay. He’s a viscount, like you.”
Gabriel assessed Leo, who had to smile in spite of the boy’s insolence. “Ah, but I will always be a viscount, where you will be a duke one day, young lord.”
Gabriel mimicked his father’s pose, leaning back against the great desk with his arms crossed in front of him. “But I suppose we’re equals for now.”
At this, all had to laugh, even Gabriel, though he wasn’t quite sure what he said that was so funny. They were all still laughing when Evangeline, Lady Kingston, or Evie as her friends called her, entered the room (using the door, this time, instead of the fireplace) looking for her wayward son. She gave a little squeal of girlish delight when she saw Cam. They had played together as children and there was an easy, sibling-like affection between them.
“My little gadji sister,” he said, hugging her.
“Enough of that,” Sebastian snapped, though it was an old joke between the three of them. He bid his son good night, with a softer smile to his wife. Sometimes, they still looked like newlyweds. He turned back to his guests. Cam had made himself comfortable, going to Sebastian’s private store of brandy and pouring a snifter each for Leo and Harry. “By all means, help yourself.”
Harry leaned back in his seat. “Do you have it?”
Sebastian accepted the brandy that Cam brought over to him, and opened a drawer in his desk. Taking out a fat portfolio, he tossed it over to Harry.
Harry opened it and leafed through the pages inside- thick enough to fill three Bibles. “Is that it?”
“What the hell is that?” Leo asked, one eyebrow raised.
“That, is information on every male guest attending that ball of your daughter’s in two week’s time,” Sebastian answered.
“Have you been researching for a dissertation?” Leo asked incredulously. “How kind of you, my Lord, to do such a service to us.”
“What do you mean, ‘us’?” Harry asked. “Your daughter seems quite spoken for.”
“Well, it’s never a bad thing to have Harry Rutledge owing you a favor,” Sebastian said slyly, with a wink to Harry’s scowl that he only meant the comment in jest. “Besides- I feel sorry for the poor bastard. I know what it’s like.”
Leo took a stack out of the papers and thumbed through them. Financial credit, scandals, past love affairs, illegitimate children, duels- it was virtually every secret of the male population of London. He turned to Harry. “I suppose you’ll have this memorized by midnight.”
Cam laughed, downing the rest of his brandy. “It’s early yet, Ramsay, he’ll probably be through it by ten.”
Harry didn’t look up from the tome. “Just wait until it’s Tali’s turn.”
And Cam’s laughter died away immediately.