The Legend of the Earl (Heirs of High Society) (A Regency Romance Book)(7)

The only issue was that Justin nearly lived at Bellamy’s. He didn’t go out to Society functions anymore. He’d stopped going nearly five years ago, knowing it was better if he didn’t. Justin didn’t dance and therefore would cause a scene when he refused to take a lady to the dancefloor. Spending time at the club afforded him the opportunity to mingle with like-minded gentlemen while never having to bother with women. Yet even there, he kept to dark corners as a way to warn off fathers from seeking him out. Still, he enjoyed the noise. It made him feel included, even when he wasn’t.

What would he do without Bellamy’s?

Surely, there was something he could do.

“You could try remaining sober long enough attend the next meeting,” Avon suggested as though he were reading Justin’s thoughts. It wouldn’t surprise Justin if the man was able to.

The next meeting was days away. Sadly, Justin didn’t think he could go that long without a drink. Drink, like Bellamy’s and Mrs. Shaw, had become a constant companion.

Justin reached up to scratch the back of his head but caught himself before lowering the hand again. Then he bowed. “Yes, Your Grace.”

The duke didn't hear his words, for he broke out in another fit of coughs before he cleared his throat and spoke again. “The party doesn’t like you, Chantenny, and I like you even less. Why my son continues to befriend you, I’ll never know.”

Justin looked away and prepared himself for what was to come, all the while knowing there was no true way to prepare to meet the devil.

The duke went on, knowing he was listening. “You’re the worst sort of man there is, weeping over the past as though your actions can change them. You’ll need to do something to impress us, to gain our trust. You need to prove that you’re capable of being a true gentleman, Chantenny. You’re not the first man to lose a father.”

Justin knew he’d not been the first to lose his father, though he was sure that not many had watched their father bleed to death in their arms. He was equally sure not many were there when their father met death or were unable to recognize their own father's face because of the trauma he'd endured.

It was the worst thing Justin had ever witnessed in his life.

One moment, Lord Julius Padmore had been happy, smiling at Justin, and the next…

It had been three months since Justin buried his father. Justin had been close with him. His mother, Christine Padmore, the elusive Lady Chantenny, had died years ago, leaving the old Lord Chantenny to see to the raising of his son and two daughters.

Then he’d died, and Justin still felt lost.

He knew at twenty and six it was time to move on, but he’d not had a moment to breath since the death.

After Julius’ funeral, Avon had led the vote to place Justin into Parliament and then told him which side he would be on.

Justin had sent his sisters to school, which had given him some time to be alone except for when Gerard would not allow it, but the girls were in London for the Season, and he’d been forced to find and hire a chaperone. In all, the last few months were a blur.

He knew it was time to get himself together. He’d told himself this very thing repeatedly. He simply didn’t know where to start.

“Are you listening to me?” Avon asked.

Justin nodded, though he was sure he’d missed great portions of Avon’s speech.

“Your father never made the best decisions. Your mother was an example of that. And he was always prone to accidents. It was only a matter of time,” Avon went on. “He never listened to anyone.”

Justin locked his jaw as the first thread of anger slipped into his chest and expanded with his every breath. This was the part of Avon that Justin hated. The man had no respect for the dead and definitely not Justin’s father.

Avon went on, “I remember that day Lord Wint had to fish your father out of the lake by my estate.”

The lake.

If his father’s death was the worst thing Justin had ever witnessed, then what took place that day at the lake fifteen years ago was second. Justin didn’t need the story told to him again. Much like the death of his father, the scene at the lake played in his mind over and over again like a bad play that he could never forget. Still, Avon told it all the time, as though Justin hadn’t been there, as though he’d not witnessed his father jump in to save his mother and then have to be rescued himself.

Christine Padmore had not made it. Had it not been for Lord Wint, Justin would have lost his father that day as well, which would have been unfortunate since Justin had always been closer to his father.

“Fool,” Avon went on. “The woman, with all her skirts, never would have survived, and she was hardly worth saving. I’ve never met a more unpleasant woman in my life.”

Justin’s stomach burned. Those words coming from the Duke of Avon said much.

Lady Chantenny had not been a pleasant woman. She’d neither been pleasant to the members of the ton nor to Justin. The woman had doted on her girls but never him. Justin had mildly hated her. When she’d died, he’d not mourned her death so much as the mother he’d never had to begin with.

For years he’d sought her affection, a love that other young boys never had to ask for. If there had been a day that his mother had smiled at him, Justin couldn’t remember it.

She’d caused him both physical and emotional pain. Even in death, Justin still felt its effects. He put thoughts of his dead mother away for the moment.