The Legend of the Earl (Heirs of High Society) (A Regency Romance Book)(6)

“Yes,” Gerard said. “Our party lost.”

Justin’s head fell as though his neck could no longer stand the weight of it.

“And it gets worse,” Gerard whispered.

Justin didn’t want to know how much worse it could get. He covered his face.

Gerard stepped closer and whispered in his ear, “The duke swore to the party that we would win. He let them all down and now there are many who believe it best they no longer follow him. They knew it was your vote that ruined things. They thought the duke had you under control, but that has been proven wrong, and you know how the duke gets when he’s wrong.”

Justin ran his hands through his dark hair and met Gerard’s eyes. “So it’s likely I’ll not get out of this unscathed.”

His friend nodded. “That’s a likely conclusion, yes.”

Justin’s shoulders fell. He started toward the door. “Let us get this over with.”

Gerard walked by his side, just as he always did when Justin was walking to the gallows.

The rides to Avon’s home were always the worst moments of Justin’s life, leaving his mind full of the worst things Avon could do to him.

He could ruin Justin’s life.

Many a lord had thought themselves powerful enough to withstand Avon’s wrath, but in the end, Avon always won. He was a member of the king’s privy council, but worse than having the ear of the king was the fact that Avon employed a small army of his own, men who he paid to keep an eye on things that interested him. He used whatever he could as blackmail.

So far, Justin had received few threats, but he knew that today he would not escape the man’s ire.

He was done for.

When the carriage rolled through the black iron gates, Justin tightened his gut and pulled in a breath before releasing it. He felt sick but managed to hold himself together and leapt from the carriage when it stopped. He kept his expression calm as he passed the butler, handing over his hat before proceeding farther into the house.

The entrance opened up with high white ceilings and crown molding with strong stone columns that seemed to hold the dome-like foyer together. There were traditional wings on either side and a large staircase at its center, covered with red carpet. It was the brightest color in the room and matched well with the paintings of the family in picturesque scenes on the walls. Light streamed through the open windows, and the smell of lavender bathed the halls.

Justin would have thought the house peaceful had it not been for the man who owned it.

He knew the way to Avon’s office, yet still he let his friend lead the way. He entered the room after a knock.

Avon was standing with his back to the window, leaning heavily on his cane. He was a tall man, and though Justin had known he'd been leanly built in his younger years, he was now only a shadow of the man he’d once been. He was sickly thin now, his gray hair thinning, but when he turned to look at Justin, the hazel gaze nearly sent Justin to his knees.

Avon’s eyes moved to Gerard. “You may go.”

Gerard didn’t hesitate to bow to his father and depart, closing the door behind him. Gerard always walked to the gallows with Justin, but it was always Justin’s head that was all but chopped from his shoulders. Since Gerard was the duke’s eldest son, Justin sensed that Gerard had gained his fill of his father’s ire more than he wished over the years and would take no more than was necessary.

Avon began to cough, a habit that had kept with him for the last year.

Gerard had confessed that he believed his father was dying, and while Justin felt sympathy for his friend, there was a part of Justin—like much of the Beau Monde—that couldn’t wait for Avon to be put in his grave.

Avon finally ceased coughing and sighed. The man rarely smiled, and Justin couldn’t recall a time that he had.

The duke said nothing, and Justin grew anxious under the stare. He nearly begged his forgiveness when the duke finally spoke.

“You’ll pay the fine.”

Justin nodded. “Yes, Your Grace.”

Avon started for his chair, the cane aiding his entire journey. “And Mrs. Shaw has been told not to expect you for the remainder of the Season.”

That blow came swift, but Justin managed to take it. He didn’t have to ask how Avon had known where he was last night. Everyone knew about his arrangement with Mrs. Shaw. It irritated most of the mothers of the unwed ladies and even a few of the fathers. Justin was an earl, yet instead of settling down to produce an heir, he spent his time with a woman who was old enough to be his mother.

But the thought of marriage was unsettling, and Justin was comfortable with Mrs. Shaw. It irritated Justin that Avon could come between them, especially knowing that Justin would never turn to another woman.

Avon fell into his chair, his breath coming in pants until he was settled. “You’ll also be banned from Bellamy’s.”

Justin rocked back on his feet and stared at the duke with wide eyes. He swallowed. “For how long?”

Iron could not have held Justin better than Avon’s gaze. “The remainder of the Season. I only wish to see you there during a meeting of the party. You will be there on time and then you will leave.”

Justin’s entire life was centered on Mrs. Shaw’s and Bellamy’s. What he would do with his time, he didn’t know.

He also didn’t question how the duke had such power. Justin simply knew that he did. A man like Avon didn’t jest. Justin could be blackballed, and that would surely be the end of him. No. Instead of fighting the duke, he would bide his time with other things.