The Beautiful Stranger (3 page)

Rothembow turned on him. He was a drunkard! A worthless, penniless drunk! He was doomed from the moment he met the likes of you, he said, gesturing wildly at both of them. My Phillip was a good boy until then, a very good boy, but you ruined him! The Rogues ruined him, and now now . . . Rothembows voice suddenly trailed off; his blue eyes skirted the walls and ceiling before his shoulders slumped. He glanced blindly down at his feet like a defeated man and exhaled a long, weary sigh.

The three men stood in silence for a long moment until Arthur asked quietly, What would you have us do?

The small sound of grief from Rothembow scored Arthurs heart. I would that you give me back my son, Christian, he said hoarsely, and lifted a watery gaze. Short of that, I would very much appreciate it if you would instruct your offices to handle this unseemly matter at once and clear my sons name. Do whatever it takes, but dear God, at least allow my sons name to be respected in one corner of the kingdom! Let him have his peace somewhere!

Arthur glanced at the letter lying on the library table. I dont know what can be done, but I give you my word, I shall endeavor to repair it, my lord.

With another subdued sigh, Rothembow looked at Julian, then turned and walked slowly to the door. I fear this will never end, he said raggedly as he reached for the handle. My son will never rest in peace.

He closed the door loudly behind him.

If his son never rests in peace, it is his own damn doing, not ours! Arthur muttered resentfully at the closed door.

With a halfhearted shrug, Julian moved to a drink cart and poured two whiskeys, holding one out to Arthur. Rothembow will always believe we killed him. Nothing will ever change that.

Phillip killed himself! And he made his own foolish decisions, Arthur responded, gesturing angrily toward the letter. Why in Gods name would he buy a herd of Highland cattle? To have something to hold, something to make him normal. Arthur strode angrily to the table and picked up the paper. The lawyers neat script detailing the troubled property made the indignation mount, but for who or what, Arthur suddenly wasnt sure. It seemed that everything Phillip tried ended in one disaster or another, as if the heavens were dead set against him. He folded the paper and put it in his coat pocket, then tossed the whiskey down his throat.

Come on, then. Your guests will wonder where youve gone off to, Julian said.

Arthur glared at the door. Heaven knows I have tried to understand why he did it, but I can find no reason for it. Nonetheless, I didnt force him onto that field any more than you or Adrian, and I am sick unto death of taking the blame for it, I swear to God that I am!

Then dont, Arthur, Julian said quietly. We can never understand why he did what he did. He opened the door, waiting for Arthur. And a man could make himself insane trying.

For the rest of the evening, Arthur ignored the letter burning in the inside pocket of his coat. Almost mindlessly, he did what was expected of himhe spoke at length to the dimwitted Perry, despite feeling as if he was talking to the wall. He bantered a bit with Sir Fox about the horse races, charmed a group of young ladies who giggled like children, and suffered through two quadrilles. In the dining room, where tables and chairs had been set up for the dancers, he talked amicably with Miss Amelia, Warrentons homely, but well-endowed daughterboth physically and financially, as Julian discreetly pointed outover a plate of goose and asparagus awash in French creme sauce.

He played his part well, but he scarcely recalled a thing he heard or saidhe could not stop thinking about Phillip. He hadnt thought about him like this in months, had managed to push his anger and resentment down until he could pass several days without thinking of him. Until another dream would come, unwanted.

But now thishonestly, had Phillip really believed that an ill-advised venture in Scotland would make a difference to his situation? Why hadnt he asked for advice, sought counsel on his growing debt from the finest solicitation offices in the kingdom? Offices that just happened to belong to one of his closest friends? Why did he kill himself?

When several of the guests returned to the dancing, and a few select men gathered in the library, Arthur watched Julian turn a beaming smile to Claudia as she glided past. He could see the adoration shining in Julians eyes and felt a faintly familiar tug in his chest that felt, oddly, a bit like envy. It could not be envy, howeverArthur Christian did not envy men their wives. All he had to do was look at Portia to remember why that was.

After the men had exhausted their talk of politics in the library and had vowed to support Alex in his reform efforts in the Lords, they rejoined the ball. Arthur followed, filled to the brim now with a growing anger at Phillip, and worse, the old anguish buried deep inside him that Rothembow had stirred. He stood alone like some abandoned soul, staring morosely at the dancers, anxious for the evening to end.

When he had at last made himself quite miserable with the incessant rumination of Phillip and life and what might have been, he slipped out of the ballroom and onto the terrace behind the mansions breakfast room, away from the guests who had filtered into the gardens.

The flare of a match caught him by surprise; he glanced over his shoulder as Julian extended a cheroot toward him. Made with the finest blend of American tobacco. Delivered just this morning.

Arthur took the cheroot and inhaled, then watched the smoke slowly rise up to the ink-black sky.

I take it then you are finished with the dancing, Julian remarked.

Arthur shrugged. I needed some air.

Youve allowed Rothembow to unsettle you.

Arthur shot a curious look at Julian; he shrugged, exhaled the smoke of his cheroot. Face it, Christian, youve always been a bit too sentimental for your own good.

Dear God, here we go again, Arthur snorted. From one sentimental fool to another.

Julian ignored that. I wasnt aware that he had invested cattle or land in Scotland.

Frowning lightly, Arthur shoved his hands in his pockets. I knew, he admitted quietly. It just seemed at the time he seemed quite desperate for it, as if that bloody land would solve some monumental problem.

The worst of it is that I didnt advise him against it in spite of seeing that it was a rather foolish thing to do.

Phillip Rothembow was responsible for his own affairs, Arthur, not you. You cant punish yourself forever.

Apparently they were destined to have this conversation again, the one in which Julian would insist Arthur didnt deserve to shoulder the blame for what had happened to Phillip, that he was sliding too far into isolation where guilt would consume him. And then Julian would insist that what happened to Phillip was his fault, that he had known Phillip better than most, had been close enough to see his demise.

I dont disagree, really. But you cant deny I might have advised him And you might have let him make his own decisions, like any man. You wouldnt presume to advise Albright against a purchase like that unless he sought your counsel. You certainly wouldnt think to tell me to invest in the percents instead of those dusty old manuscripts. Why should Rothembow have been any different?

Julians interminable logic never worked in this conversation. Phillip was different because he was Phillip.

Unwilling to argue, Arthur looked away, into the dark beyond them. Nevertheless, I promised Rothembow I would look into it and do what I could. I suppose I shall have to send someone up thereRedmond, perhaps. Hes done quite well for us. He might enjoy No. You believe it all your fault? Then you go, Julian said sharply, and Arthur looked up, surprised. You go, Arthur, and clear Phillips name, do whatever it takes to release this enormous guilt you carry if you think you can.

Go to Scotland? Dont be ridiculous.

Whats so ridiculous about it? You rarely leave London. Youve mentioned a desire to see one of the Scottish clippers that are beating the Christian fleet to every port. And since you insist on bearing Phillips death like your own personal cross, what better way to help him now? Really, Arthur, what have you to lose? Its not as if there is anything to hold you here!

To his credit, Arthur managed to hide his considerable irritation at that remark with an indulgent smile.

Thank you for your advice, Kettering. I shall consider it.

With a look of pure disdain, Julian tossed down his cheroot and ground it out with his heel. Very well, then, wallow in your guilt, he said irritably, and walked away.

Arthur watched him, almost laughing aloud at the absurdity of his suggestion. But by the time he returned

to the ballroom, the smile had faded, replaced by a feeling of distraction.

He couldnt just up and go. Edinburgh was not an easy journey; it would take some time. And there was far too much to be done here. Or was there? A dozen or more highly trained solicitors handled the Christian family wealth; they hardly needed him for anything other than to lend his signature to papers and bank drafts. And he really was rather keen on examining the Scottish clippers that were outpacing every other ship on the seas.

Still Arthur shook his head. A journey deep into Scotland was hardly the same thing as popping over to Paris. And it wasnt as if he knew anyone there at all hed be virtually alone. Yet it wasnt as if he was engaged in any meaningful activity here. His life consisted merely of another Seasons events, which included, he thought with a grimace, the constant parade of unmarried debutantes under his nose, the occasional outing with Julian and Adrian when they werent engaged with their families, and the periodic call to Madame Farantinos to tend to his physical needs. There was nothing: no purpose, no reason for him to be here. He did not really belong here.

A movement to his right caught Arthurs eye and he glanced across the room, his gaze landing on Portia.

She was smiling seductively at him while her husband chatted with another gentleman, fingering the pearl at her bosom again, openly stroking herself.

No, it wasnt as if there was anything or anyone to hold him in London.

He owed this to Phillip, didnt he? He had failed him miserably; the least he could do was try and clean up the mess he had left in Scotland and establish his good name again.

Arthur pondered it until the early morning hours when the ball finally began to draw to a close. Julian and Claudia were among the first to escape. As they stood beneath the great stone portico and waited for a runner to fetch their driver, Claudia slipped her hand into Arthurs and smiled up at him, winking mischievously. Ive convinced my stubborn husband that we ought to have a supper party, Wednesday next. Wouldnt you please come, Arthur? Im rather keen to invite Miss Wilhelmina Bentson-Fitzmayor.

She is a dear friend of mine and her father a rather generous benefactor to the Whitney-Dane School for Girls, but she hasnt been introduced as of yet. Youd be doing me a great honor.

Arthur returned Claudias bright smile and squeezed her hand affectionately. I am terribly sorry, but Im afraid I must decline, he said smoothly.

Julian chuckled as their coach pulled to the curb. I assure you, Miss Wilhelmina Bentson-Fitzmayor is a far sight lovelier than her name.

Arthur bent to kiss Claudias cheek, then returned Julians smirk as he helped her into the coach. I dont doubt for a moment that she is, but I shant be in London Wednesday next, he said as Claudia settled herself on the squabs.

Indeed? Julian drawled as he stepped inside the cab. And where exactly might you be, old chum?

Arthur smiled. Scotland.

Mr. Jamie Regis, Esquire, stared at the man sitting across from him in the leather winged-back chair, quietly reading a letter. He didnt like the looks of Lord Arthur Christian very much; he had that air of suffocating wealth about him. Not that Jamie Regis had anything against wealth he just didnt like being summoned by it.

And summoned was exactly what Christian had done, sending him a letter one month ago dictating exactly where and when he would be expected to show himself, without any thought as to how difficult it might be for Jamie to come all the way to Edinburgh. The English Ass had business in Edinburgh, and therefore expected the world to come to him, just like the rich sheep farmers Jamie often represented.

Look at him. He was awfully pleased with himself, wasnt he? Sitting there like the king himself, right in the middle of the drawing room of the fancy Kenilworth Hotel, one leg draped casually over the other as he read the banks letter. Jamie considered himself rather dapper in his grooming, but the Ass was wearing a dark brown coat made of a material so fine it had to have come all the way from Paris. And his waistcoatLord, the pale green waistcoat was silk, Jamie was quite certain of it, and embroidered with rose and dark brown thread that exactly matched his coat. His pale green and brown neckcloth was impeccably tied, and the cut of his hair a bit longer than the current style, Jamie thought smuglywas trimmed in such a way as to tame the waves in it. Even the mans side whiskers were, impossibly, perfectly matched. It just wasnt possible for a man to be that exacting on himself!

He shifted his gaze to Christians hands and smirked. They were big, large handsperfectly manicured, a heavy gold seal of some sort on the left ring finger hands that had never worked a day.

Jamies smirk faded as his gaze dropped to the mans feetand he quietly sucked in his breath. It was Christians boots that held him in awe. Rich, supple leather, tanned to shining perfection, rising up to a flawless fit just below his knee. Jamie Regis would have laid down his life for a pair of boots like that.

Mr. Regis?

Caught salivating over the mans boots, Jamie colored. He looked up, felt instantly overpoweredthe other thing the Ass possessed was a very sharp hazel gaze. Aye? he responded tightly.

Im still a bit unclear. You handled Lord Rothembows investment in property in where was it again ah yes, Glenbaden, in Perthshire, is that correct?

Jamie nodded.

I imagine it is rather picturesque there.