The Legend of the Earl (Heirs of High Society) (A Regency Romance Book)(5)

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Justin Padmore, Earl of Chantenny, jerked his head up, opened his eyes, and blinked to adjust his vision. He’d been kicked in the boot and as his eyes focused, he smiled to find his old friend staring down at him. He became aware of the noise of the club, the rattling of newspapers, and the warmth of the cup in his hand. He’d been drinking coffee before he’d fallen asleep.



“Thank you. I’d have likely burned myself had you not come along when you did.” He lifted his cup in a toast and then took a hasty sip. The coffee had cooled, but Justin didn’t mind. He needed whatever energy the liquid could give him after a night like the one he’d had.

“You missed session,” Gerard de Gray, Earl of Obenshire, said. He’d remained in his position in front of Justin’s feet.

They were in a corner of the room, where others could not hear their conversation, in a spot that Justin had all but dubbed as his own. Other men didn’t venture to bother him here. Only Gerard.

Justin crossed his legs and glanced back up at Gerard, noting his friend’s unhappiness. “You look grim. Anything important occur?” He glanced around at the men who sat at tables a few paces away and noticed how everyone was bent over their papers. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, and yet...

Gerard rounded Justin’s feet and came closer. He bent down, and his light brown eyes came into perfect view. The anger was gone and in its stead was something far worse. Fear. “You missed session,” Gerard whispered.

Justin’s mind was cloudy, but he tried his best to understand what his friend was saying, “All right. I’ll pay whatever fine the party wishes.”

Gerard shook his head and his gaze roamed Justin’s before he asked, “How much did you drink last night? Where did you go?”

Justin’s eyes widened and he took a deep breath. Gerard was asking a hard question. He never remembered anything when he was drunk. That was the point of being drunk, after all. Forgetting. “Well, let’s see. My evening started at Mrs. Shaw’s.”

Shaw was a beautiful, wealthy widow of a merchant and the two had found the attraction mutual, so he’d begun to seek her out at night. Their arrangement had been going on for years and was pleasant enough, though in more recent months he’d begun to visit and fall promptly asleep on her bed, too drunk to do much else. Mrs. Shaw didn’t mind, and Justin would more often than not find a blanket thrown over his body when he arose in the morning.

“I had a few cups at her house before venturing here and then...“ He tried to think, but when that became painful, he shrugged. “I don’t recall. It’s likely I’ve been in this chair for hours, which, when you think about it, you shouldn’t be mad at me for. Anyone in the room could have woken me before session.” He narrowed his eyes at the men in the room, though he knew they couldn’t see him.

“You missed session, Justin,” Gerard said.

He grew irritated instantly. “Yes, I know—”

“You missed the vote.”

Justin would have preferred any other words but those. The vote. He’d missed the vote. Immediately, his mind cleared. Fear seeped into his blood and choked him as though a hand had wrapped around his throat, seizing him in an iron grasp.

He’d missed the vote.

He cursed and looked at Gerard. “Please tell me you’re lying.”

Gerard slowly shook his head.

Justin cursed again before putting his cup down. “This is not happening.” He placed both his palms against his face and gave each cheek a few quick slaps in an effort to wake himself. Then he ran a hand down his face and glanced around the gentlemen’s club. Bellamy’s was full of lords. Lords who had likely finished session hours ago and had come here.

He cursed again and stood. “I forgot.”

“He’ll not accept that answer,” Gerard told him. “You don’t know what you’ve done.”

Justin looked at Gerard and suspected he knew exactly what he’d done. Justin’s vote had been vital for his party to win. Most days, Justin didn’t even know what party he belonged to, and he most certainly didn’t know what the vote had been about. He never read the bills and never listened during a session.

The only reason he’d gone was that the Duke of Avon had demanded it, and Avon was not a man you let down. He was more 'Lord of Darkness' than anything else, having more power than most imagined and more than any one man ever should.

Justin wondered what would happen if he simply ran away.

“Don’t,” Gerard said, as though he could read his mind. “You’ll have to face him eventually.”

Justin frowned and turned to Gerard. “Can’t I do it when I’m sober?”

“Sober? When do you plan for that to happen?” Gerard asked without any mocking in his tone. He truly wished to know.

Justin honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d been completely sober. He was sure he was killing himself slowly and didn’t mind the thought at all. Death, he was sure, was a more pleasant experience than dealing with the anger of the duke.

Justin couldn’t focus on his surroundings. “I missed the vote.”