Grace Burrowes - My Hearts True Delight

To those struggling with disorders of mood

If you are so unforgivably clodpated as to challenge William Chastain to a duel, Ash Dorning said, I will shoot you in the arse myself, Tresham. And lest you forget, I was raised in the country. My aim is faultless.

You wont shoot me, Jonathan Tresham replied. Della Haddonfield would never forgive you for wounding her devoted brother. Besides, Ill need you to serve as one of my seconds.

Ash poured two fingers of brandy from the better stock kept behind The Coventry Clubs bar. At this midmorning hour, the cleaning crew had already come through. The room was tidy and deserted, and a perfect place to talk sense into Tresham.

Or try to. If you add fuel to the flames of gossip by involving Lady Dellas name in a matter of honor, you will be the brother she never forgives. As far as polite society is concerned, the Haddonfield menfolk are her siblings. Your involvement in the situation would only cause the wrong kind of speculation.

Lady Dellas mother and Treshams father had had an affair while married to other people. The tall, blond Haddonfields affectionately referred to the petite brown-haired Lady Della as their changeling, but anybody who took a close look at Della and Tresham side by side would see an uncanny resemblance.

If those people had any sense, theyd speculate silently. Della was fiercely loved by all of her siblings and by any number of relatives and family connections.

Della was loved by Ash, too, not that his sentiments signified.

Why did she do it, Dorning? Tresham took his drink to the roulette table and gave the wheel a spin. Why run off with Chastain? Hes a bounder and a rake and, worse yet, an inept card player.

Because Ash was a co-manager of The Coventry Club, he knew exactly what Tresham meant. The more heavily William Chastain lost, the more heavily he drank, and the more heavily he bet. Ash had a fine grasp of probabilities, while Chastain had a fine grasp of the brandy decanter.

To young men just down from university, Ash said, Chastain offers a certain shallow-minded bonhomie. He looks the part of the man about Town. He pays his debts, or wed not let him back in the door. Though how he paid his debts was something of a mystery.

His damned father must be covering his markers, Tresham muttered. Last I heard, Chastain was engaged to some French comtes granddaughter, so his papa is doubtless keeping Chastain out of trouble as best he can until the vows are spoken. I really do want to kill him.

So do I. That wont help. Chastain got no farther with Della than Alconbury. If he wants to live, or ever sire children, hell keep his mouth shut. The whole business will remain a private regret for both parties.

By daylight, the game room looked a little tired, even boring. The art on the walls depicted good-quality classical scenesscantily clad nymphs, heroic godsbut nothing too risqu and nothing too impressive either. Without the click and tumble of the dice, the chatter of conversation, or the sparkle of the patrons jewels, the room was simply a collection of tables and chairs on thick carpet between silk-hung walls.

Any Mayfair town house would have been at least as elegant. But that was the point: The Coventry was comfortably bland, not showy, not distracting. The focus of the patrons was to be on the play and on each other.

Ashs focus was on Della Haddonfield, whom he had given up trying to forget months ago.

Chastain drinks when he loses, and he loses nearly every time he plays, Tresham said, wandering between the tables. Sooner or later, hell drink too much and start wittering on about that time he eloped with Lady Della. He spent half the damned night with her in that inn, Ash. I should kill him for that alone.

I know, Tresham,God, do I knowbut Della apparently went with him willingly. Bellefonte would tell you if that wasnt the case, I trust?

I have no idea. Tresham perched on a dealers stool and took up a deck of cards. I hate this, he said, shuffling the deck with casual expertise. Chastain is in affront to good society and somebody needs to take him in hand.

Somebody needed to put out Chastains lights. Deal me in. Ash took up a stool at the same table. Has it occurred to you that Della might be smitten with Chastain? She might be heartbroken that Chastains father interrupted their elopement.

My wifes theory is that Della chose Chastain because hes nothing more than a handsome lackwit. Della could manage him without looking up from her embroidery hoop. Shes an earls daughter, so Papa Chastain would eventually reconcile himself to the match. Tresham gathered up the cards and set the deck in the middle of the table. I shall trounce you at cribbage.

Ash produced a cribbage board from the shelf under the table. You dont believe Della is smitten with Chastain?

I know she isnt. She once mentioned Chastain to me when I drove out with her. Her tone was less than respectful.

Ash cut for the crib and pulled the low card. Feelings can change.

Not those feelings. Della expressed pity for his sire and shared the opinion that Chastain will bankrupt the family within two years of gaining control of the Chastain fortune. Shes right.

Play moved along, with the cards favoring Ash. His leading peg was halfway around the board when his brother Sycamore sauntered in, looking dashing and windblown in his riding attire.

That is the good brandy at Treshams elbow, Sycamore said, pausing to remove his spurs. Since when do we give away the good stuff, brother mine?

Ash picked up his cards to find another double run, his third of the game so far. We are generous with Tresham because he needed a medicinal tot for his nerves. As had Ash. Im beating him soundly.

Sycamore peered over Treshams shoulder. William Chastain needs a sound beating. Whos with me?

Tresham put down his cards. What have you heard?

Sycamore could be tactfulabout once every five yearsand then only out of a perverse impulse to surprise his older siblings.

Chastain was at his club last night, lamenting that his French bride refuses to cry off, despite the failed elopement with a certain Lady Delightful.

Tresham was on his feet so quickly he knocked his stool over. I will kill him, slowly, after protracted torture. I will geld him and cut the idiot tongue from his empty head. By Jehovahs thunder, I ought to ruin his father for siring such a walking pile of offal.

If you do ruin him, Sycamore said, taking a sip of Treshams brandy, please do it here, so the club gets a bit of the notoriety and ten percent of the kitty.

Tresham, you cannot, Ash said, getting to his feet. You cannot so much as intimate that Chastains wild maunderings have any connection to reality or to Della, and you most assuredly cannot strut about all but proclaiming that her ladyship has an illegitimate connection to you.

But

Ash stepped closer. No. Not if you care for her, which you loudly claim to do. The Haddonfields have substantial consequence. They have weathered other scandals. You can be a friend of the family, a cordial acquaintance, but you cannot involve yourself in any manner that makes the situation worse than it already is.