The Rogue She Loved by Ella Edon
Chapter Four
Whitman’s was not Stephan’s preferred type of gentleman’s club. It was dark, modestly furnished and lacked both the subtlety and splendour of Dennings’ club. All around was the scent of cheap perfume and the colouring of the brandy did not bode well for its quality. It was the best Stephan could do for the night. After his encounter with the Marquess at Dennings, he had resolved to find another club where he would not run the risk of crossing paths with the Marquess again.
It bristled Stephan to go against his preference but he had no choice and his appetite for a night of fun had not dulled in the week that had passed. He gestured to one of the servants for a drink and one belatedly arrived. In Dennings’ one simply had to incline one's head for a drink to appear but here the waiters were not quite so attuned to the whims and wants of their clientele.
A deep, familiar voice called his name. “Stephan.”
Stephan glanced over his shoulder with a smile. His best friend Matthew had arrived and that meant there was much to salvage of the evening.
“The good Viscount,” Stephan responded playfully.
Matthew took a seat on the chaise lounge opposite Stephan. “May I ask why you chose to meet at Whitman’s?” he asked.
Stephan gritted his teeth. “I am not very fond of some of the gentlemen that frequent Dennings’” he replied.
Matthew quirked an eyebrow. “Strange, you’ve never voiced an objection to the men at Dennings’ before. On the contrary I have heard you remark more than once that no greater group of men could be found outside its walls.”
Stephan snorted. “That was before I discovered that the Marquess of Plymouth had become an esteemed member of the club.”
“I see,” Matthew said, thumbing his chin. “I imagine that was not a very pleasant encounter.”
Stephan threw back his drink in one gulp and gestured to the nearest servant for another round. “Not at all. The man remains as dishonourable as ever and was determined to make a spectacle of the meeting. By some mixture of residual sobriety and restraint I managed to leave the establishment before it came to blows between the two of us.”
“Oh Stephan, please tell me you did not allow his jibes to affect your temper so much.”
The waiter arrived with drinks for Stephan and Matthew both.
Stephan sipped generously. “I’m just glad I left before making more of a fool of myself than the Marquess had already succeeded in doing.”
Matthew gestured for a drink. “Well, in that case, I suggest we make a new home of Whitman’s, the furnishings are accommodating and the drinks are,” he took a testing sip of his drink, “adequate,” he finished.
Stephan gave a small laugh. “Adequate is quite a charitable commendation.”
“And not more than this drink deserves,” he said glaring at the half full glass.
With that they both finished their drinks and took to the main floor for a round of gambling. Matthew’s style of playing Whist was the perfect illustration of his style of living life. He was cautious and prudent, making bets only when he had the surest chance of success. Whenever Stephan wanted to make an outrageous gamble, Matthew was always the one to give him pause with a disapproving look or a soft shake of the head. Matthew’s path through life was sure and straight, while Stephan’s was wild and winding. Where Stephan was drawn by his desire of new experience, Matthew was always tethered by common sense and seriousness. As business partners it made them a formidable pair but as gamblers it meant that their fortunes often shifted between incredible success and ruinous failure. All the same, Stephan could think of no greater company than his dear friend Matthew. Stephan had a mind for the cards and a habit of reading his opponents gestures and manners to devastating effect. Matthew was judicious and practical in his evaluation of the game.
As they played, Stephan drank constantly, allowing himself to revel in the totality of the moment. Within an hour of playing, he was on the brink of total stupor. One particular waiter had displayed the attentiveness and alacrity in service that Stephan most enjoyed and Stephan had put the waiter to good use, helping himself to almost ten rounds of brandy. Matthew had watched it all happen with silent poise and when Stephan called for an eleventh helping of brandy, Matthew ushered him away from the gambling table.
They settled at a solemn table at the side of the room and Matthew took his friend by the shoulders.
“Do you drink like this every night?” Matthew asked.
“Only on the nights I can remember,” Stephan said.
Matthew shook his head in disapproval. “Stephan, I know you are going through a lot at the present time but you simply cannot afford to spend all your time drinking and gambling.”
Stephan raised a finger in objection. “You forget that some nights, I also fight and race.”
Matthew’s sigh was deep and breathy. He accommodated Stephan’s eccentricities but always drew the line when he thought his friend was stepping beyond the mark. Between his blurred vision, waning concentration and the soft lantern light, Stephan could barely see Matthew but there could be no mistaking his friend’s glare. Matthew’s eyes which were almost always unassuming had grown sharp and serious in concentration. It was the same look that Matthew had given him the night he broke down when he found Maria in the Marquess’ arms. He had gone to Dennings’ that night, wanting to die but Matthew would not let him have his wish. He’d reminded Stephan of the one thing he could never give up: family. It was enough then to drag him out of his depression then for Stephan would never let his sister suffer for his own sins. The pain Stephan now felt however, at seeing the Marquess again, would not go away easily.
“I’m not going to let you fall into a cycle of self-pity again Stephan,” Matthew said.
Stephan closed his eyes and sighed. “Do you know what it feels like to realize that you will never know happiness or glory or true love as long as you may live?”
“Don’t speak like that Stephan, you have too much to lose.”
“I already lost everything that mattered. I lost my parents. I lost the woman most precious to me.”
“You haven’t lost me. You haven’t lost Amy,” Matthew said. “And you will find another woman, even more precious than Maria. She never deserved you Stephan.”
Stephan shook his head. “You’re wrong. She was always going to leave me for another. How could anyone truly love someone like me?”
Matthew made a dismissive gesture with his hands. “She was haughty, underhand and ill-mannered in company. Not deserving of one with an honest heart and a desire to love.”
“You’re just saying what you can to get me to stop drinking,” Stephan said.
“Not at all, I am simply speaking the truth as I see it. If I wanted to say something to get you to stop drinking I know what it is.”
Stephan snorted. “And what would that be?”
Matthew narrowed his eyes and fixed them on Stephan. “What would your parents think, if they saw you like this, with your sister alone at home.”
Stephan swallowed and immediately straightened. He had not expected Matthew could say anything to pull him back to his senses but his old friend had done it. Matthew is right. What am I doing drinking in this way when I have a sister that depends on me? An earldom that depends on me?
Stephan looked up at his friend and sighed. “I always seem to ruin everything I touch don’t I?”
Matthew smiled. “You made the earldom of Chester one of the most prosperous in the country. You protected your sister as well as any young man could when your parents died. You managed to come back from heartbreak of the most grievous kind and most importantly you earned my respect. Stephan, I can count on one hand the men I respect in the city of London. You don’t ruin everything you touch. You just tell yourself that when you are in pain because it makes it easier to bear.”
Stephan shook his head and closed his eyes. “You really are a stubborn man Matthew, couldn’t you just leave me to drink in peace?”
“Not when I know you’re better than this,” Matthew said, helping him to his feet.
“Only you and Amy think that, the rest of the town think I am a rake with no hope of salvation.”
Matthew snorted. “Nonsense. I know you better than anyone and I say you are a wonderful man. I will be the first to raise a toast when I hear that you are engaged to be married.”
Stephan laughed. “Me? Married? I think you might have had too much to drink old friend. I am not cut out for marriage at all. I tried giving my heart to one woman and the only thing I got in return was pain. Now I prefer to keep my heart to myself and give the rest of me to all the women in London. No, even if I need an heir, I won’t tie myself to marriage.”
Matthew gave a knowing smile. “You were always one to make a boast you have no hope of living up to.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stephan asked.
Matthew smiled to himself. “Nothing,” he said, patting Stephan on the shoulder. “Come my friend, let’s get you home.”
Outside Whitman’s gentlemen’s club the rain pattered at a soft clip as they walked towards Stephan’s carriage. Matthew helped him inside and gave instructions to his coachman to ride gently on account of Stephan’s tumultuous stomach. As the carriage moved through the streets at a rhythmic speed, Stephan found himself falling asleep.
He woke at their arrival at Andrews Manor and stumbled down from the carriage. Clarkson appeared at the doorway to help him inside.
His nose wrinkled as he took in the strong smell of alcohol as Stephan approached. “Shall I prepare some coffee, my Lord.”
Stephan nodded. “Yes, I think I’ll need some of that.”
