Then Came You (The Gamblers #1)(54)

“No,” Henry said ruefully, knowing that even Labarge’s offering of truffled chicken or salmon in herb sauce wouldn’t soothe Alex. “I don’t think that would work. But thank you, monsieur. This was worth any punishment. I’d spend a month in Newgate for one of those sponge cakes with the coffee cream—or that green soufflé thing.”

Obviously moved, Labarge clasped Henry’s shoulders, kissed both cheeks, and delivered a short speech in French, which Henry couldn’t understand. He finished by exclaiming, “Quel jeune homme magnifique—such a boy this is!”

“Come, Henry.” Worthy gestured to the boy. They left the kitchen and walked through the dining rooms. Before they circled to the entrance hall, Worthy felt compelled to make a short speech of his own. “Henry…I suppose you’ve heard that a gentleman always behaves with discretion. Especially when it comes to discussing matters of, er…activity with the fair sex.”

“Yes,” Henry said in a perplexed manner. He stared up at Worthy with a slight frown. “Does that mean I shouldn’t tell my brother about the girls Mr. Craven introduced me to last night?”

“Unless…you feel there is a particular reason for him to know?”

Henry shook his head. “I can’t think of a single reason.”

“Good.” Worthy gave a great sigh of relief.

Contrary to Henry’s expectations, Alex was not wearing a thunderous scowl. Actually he seemed rather calm as he stood in the entrance hall, his hands shoved casually in the pockets of his coat. His clothes were rumpled and his face was covered with heavy stubble. Henry wasn’t accustomed to seeing his brother in such disarray. But strangely, Alex looked more relaxed than he had in a long time. There was something rather unsettling about his eyes, a gleam of silver fire, and a devil-may-care expression on his face. Henry frowned, wondering what had happened to him. And why he had appeared this morning, instead of arriving to take him back home last night.

“Alex,” he said, “it was all my fault. I should never have gone without telling you, but I—”

Alex took him by the shoulders, surveying him critically. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I had a splendid supper last night. I learned to play cribbage with Mr. Craven. I went to bed early.”

Assured of his well-being, Alex gave him a piercing stare. “We’re going to have a talk, Henry. About responsibility.”

The boy nodded dutifully, perceiving that it was going to be a long ride home.

“My lord,” Worthy interjected, “on behalf of Mr. Craven and our staff, I would like to say that your brother is an exceptionally well-mannered lad. I have never seen Mr. Craven—not to mention our temperamental chef—so charmed by one person.”

“It’s a God-given talent. Henry mastered the art of flattery at a young age.” Alex glanced at his younger brother, who wore a sheepish smile, and then back at the factotum. “Worthy, is Miss Lawson here?”

“No, my lord.”

Alex wondered if he were lying. Lily might be in Craven’s bed right now. He felt a stab of possessive jealousy. “Then where might I expect to find her?”

“I would expect Miss Lawson to be here for the next few nights, my lord, either in the card rooms or at the hazard table. Certainly she’ll be in attendance at our masked assembly on Saturday.” Worthy lifted his brows and peered at him through his round spectacles. “Shall I give her a message, my lord?”

“Yes. Tell her to be prepared for the next round.” With that ominous statement, Alex bid the factotum good-bye and strode out of Craven’s, Henry trotting close at his heels.

When Alex arrived at Raiford Park and strode into the mansion, he was immediately aware of the quiet alarm that permeated the air.

Henry was also sensitive to the invisible cloud of gloom. Wonderingly he looked around the silent house. “It feels like someone died!”

The sounds of subdued sniffling heralded the appearance of Totty Lawson. She crept down the grand staircase, her cherubic face drawn tight with dismay. She looked at Alex as though she suspected he might rush forward and do her bodily harm. “M-my lord,” she quavered, and burst into tears. “She’s gone! My darling Penny is gone! Don’t blame my poor innocent child, the fault is mine. All rec-recriminations should be laid solely at my feet! Oh, dear, oh dear…”

A comical mixture of dismay and alarm crossed Alex’s features. “Mrs. Lawson…” He searched his pockets for a handkerchief. He glanced at Henry, who shrugged helplessly.

“Should I get her some water?” Henry asked sotto voce.

“Tea,” Totty sobbed. “Strong tea, with a splash of milk. And a touch of sugar. Just a touch, mind you.” As Henry scurried away, Totty continued her hiccuping soliloquy. “Oh, what am I to do?…I think I’ve g-gone a little mad! How shall I begin to explain…”

“No explanations are necessary.” Alex found a handkerchief and offered it to her. He patted her plump back in a clumsily soothing gesture. “I’m aware of the situation—Penelope, Zachary, the elopement, all of it. It’s too late to assign blame, Mrs. Lawson. Don’t distress yourself.”

“By the time I found the note and roused George to follow them they were long gone.” Totty blew her nose daintily. “Even now he is trying to locate them. Perhaps there is still time…”