The Rake's Redemption

‘Just like old times, huh?’ George set down the paper he wasn’t going to read for awhile. ‘I left Rose and Robert in the company of Juliet. Adam is at Tattersall’s looking at horseflesh. They plan on touring the Continent, and he wants to take his own conveniences.’

‘Oh, Adam.’ Charles scowled as he thought of his disreputable brother-in-law.

‘Still on that note?’ George shook his head. ‘He’s reformed, and he makes her happy.’

Charles’s scowl lightened marginally. ‘True on both counts, but that doesn’t mean I have to like the situation.’

‘What about you and the Stockton chit? Is your behaviour any better?’

Charles bristled. ‘You are no one to be talking about the Stocktons and how we treat the women in that family.’

George paled but he held Charles’s gaze. ‘You are right. I did poorly by Miss Stockton. The only redeeming feature of that incident—which I tell myself—is that I did not love her and she didn’t love me. Ours was to be a marriage of convenience. I am now married for love and happier than I have ever been, and Miss Stockton has the chance to find a man who will value her like I could not have.’ He stared into space for a minute. ‘Love is a powerful emotion. I found just how much it could change me.’ He looked back at Charles. ‘I hope some day you have the experience.’

‘Yes, yes.’

Charles found himself unwilling to talk about Emma Stockton and her finding a suitable marriage partner. Something about the topic made his stomach twist. Nor did he want to talk about finding love. So far, he was not impressed with what love had made his siblings do.

‘As for the sweet pea in my lapel.’ He grinned again. ‘I am performing a test.’

One of George’s golden brows rose.

‘Yes, a test. To see how many sheep there are in the ton.’

‘Sheep in the ton? In other words, how many men will have a sweet pea in their lapel by this evening or tomorrow.’ George shook his head. ‘You are incorrigible.’

Charles made a mocking bow from his sitting position. ‘I try.’

Even as he bantered with George, raised voices caught Charles’s attention. Glancing in the direction of the commotion, he saw a group sitting by a window. One of the men was Bertram Stockton. All Charles’s former ire at his brother-in-law, the injustices done to Miss Emma Stockton and young Green several nights before, and other emotions he could no more describe than he could banish, surfaced.

‘What is that good-for-nothing doing here?’

George looked over his shoulder. ‘You mean Stockton?’

‘Who else?’

‘I imagine the same thing we are. Looking for company and entertainment on an otherwise boring afternoon.’

‘He shouldn’t even be in London.’

George’s eyebrow rose again. ‘And why is that?’

Charles gave him a scathing look. ‘Because the man is in debt—he’s deep in the River Tick and likely going deeper. He will make it impossible for Amy Stockton or Miss Stockton to make suitable marriages because of the family debt they will expect their prospective husbands to pay off.’

‘Ah, that explains your interest and irritation.’ George drawled the words as he put one hand up to cover the smile he couldn’t stop. ‘And what about your past? Aren’t you the pot calling the kettle black?’

Charles sat up straight. ‘My peccadilloes are in the past. And what I did only impacted on me. My losses made no difference to your future or Juliet’s. I hurt no one.’ A muscle in his jaw twitched. ‘I learned the hard way and don’t want to see anyone else in the position I was in several years ago.’

‘I am sorry for that.’

Charles knew George blamed himself for the plight Charles had got himself into. ‘Don’t be. I did it to myself and I am doing my best not to do it again. My business interests pay me well even though trade is not considered respectable by the ton. I do not gamble anymore and I stay within my means. It was a hard lesson to learn.’

‘I know. I didn’t know any other way to help you.’

‘There wasn’t.’

Still, if he let the memories take him, they were painful. He did his best to keep them at bay. Just as he stayed away from gambling dens, knowing how hard it was to resist temptation. The other night had been the first time in three years that he had entered a gaming establishment. But his club was different. More than gaming went on here.

‘I am merely out to make enough money to do the things that are important to me.’

‘And those things are…’

Charles waved a hand to indicate White’s. ‘Belonging here. Good horseflesh. My estate…’

‘And women.’ George’s voice held a hint of exasperation.

Charles’s eyes flashed. ‘You are certainly on your high horse today. I shouldn’t think what I do is any concern of yours.’

George smiled gently. ‘Everything someone in my family does is of concern to me. I care for you.’

‘I am not duelling and I am not breaking any laws.’ Charles felt as though he were in the witness box defending himself to a judge. ‘Nor am I going to mend my current ways.’ He sighed. ‘I have made the only major change I intend to.’

George nodded. ‘And I know it was hard for you. I admire your strength. But think how hard it was for you and maybe you will find a little compassion in your heart for Bertram Stockton.’

‘I didn’t lose my family’s fortune and force my sister to put herself on the Marriage Mart to save us from ruin.’

‘True. Even when you lost everything, I was able to cover your debts. Today you are more careful with money than I am even if you are still reckless with women.’ He paused to consider. ‘But then, women encourage you shamelessly.’

Tired of the subject and more than a little defensive, Charles stood. ‘I am going to go and see what is going on.’

‘It really isn’t any of your business,’ George said reasonably.

Charles looked down at him, his black brows a V of ire. ‘Someone must stop the man from gambling away what he doesn’t have.’

‘That someone isn’t you,’ George said pointedly. ‘And you don’t know if they are gaming.’

Charles stared at his brother, knowing George was right. His impulsiveness and tendency to fight for the underdog—or in this case, underlady—had nearly put him into a position that was untenable for him and for the Stockton ladies. It was not as though he was engaged to either one of them or owed them more than common courtesy and manners required. No matter that baiting Miss Emma Stockton seemed to occupy more of his thoughts than it should.

He sat back down with a thud, his usual gracefulness gone. ‘You are right.’ Charles beckoned for one of the waiters. ‘A bottle of port.’

‘A little early isn’t it?’

‘No.’

As though the waiter’s movement had started a chain reaction, Bertram Stockton broke off whatever he was saying to the man beside him and looked at Charles. Their eyes met. Charles looked away without acknowledging the other man, giving Stockton the cut direct. He was being unreasonable, but couldn’t help his anger over the burden Emma Stockton bore. She was an underdog.

The port arrived at that instant and Charles sniffed the cork, approved the wine and then accepted the glass poured by the waiter. He took a long swallow, wishing he could wash away the bad taste left in his mouth from Stockton’s presence, and knowing he couldn’t. So he watched the man who was to blame for Emma Stockton’s situation.

Charles finished his wine and poured another glass. He didn’t even like Emma Stockton. He merely enjoyed irritating her and even that was to stop. He had no wish to further compromise either her or her younger sister. Nor did he want to be responsible for another rift between the sisters.