Night of Pleasure (5 page)

Mr. Grey patted his shoulder one last time and strode past toward his daughter. “I will leave you to give your condolences to Mr. Holbrook, Tine. Meet me out in the corridor when you are done. We should let his family share their final moments alone with him.” He left the room.

Miss Grey walked up to Derek. “I’m so sorry.”

Derek didn’t meet her gaze. He waited for her to leave the room. So he could cry.

She edged closer. Reaching up, she awkwardly embraced him with one arm, the scent of marzipan and soap filling his breath. She buried her head against him, her bonnet bumping into his chest. “I don’t usually embrace people.” She adjusted her arm against him. “But you need it.”

The unexpected gesture and genuine warmth she offered despite the way he treated her made him bring his arms around her. He released a much-needed breath that kept him standing and savagely tightened his hold knowing his father would soon be gone. Unable to keep it in and feeling as if he could be himself in her arms, Derek sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. He dug his fingers harder into those soft shoulders, biting back the need to scream and felt as if he were betraying his father by letting out his grief. Even as a child of six, when he found himself wailing about skinning his knee, his father always nudged his chin up and said, ‘
If a tear could save the world, I would tell you to use it. But given it can’t, I am telling you to save yourself and smile
.’

Miss Grey stiffened against him, her hands rigidly gripping at his school coat.

Realizing he was holding her too tightly, he loosened his grasp. “I’m sorry,” he choked out against her bonnet. “I’m sorry about the way I treated you earlier. I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m fine.” She rocked him for a long moment, setting her cheek once again against his chest. “Don’t apologize.”

Something told him he was going to love this girl for the rest of his life. She cradled him as if he deserved it. He swallowed and tightened his hold again, settling into a sense of calm knowing what his future would bring: her.

They rocked each other in silence.

She eventually pried herself from his arms but didn’t meet his gaze. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. Holbrook. Losing a parent is never easy. I should know. I’ll leave you alone with him. Please let my father know if you need anything.” She quietly walked over to the door and lingered for a moment before her steps echoed down the corridor.

A gargled breath trembled from his father’s body, startling Derek. Knowing his father needed him, he stumbled toward him. Sinking against the side of the bed, Derek grabbed his limp hand, his hands trembling in an effort to hold onto his father’s warmth. “I know you always tell me to never cry. So don’t think I’m dishonoring you. I’m not. I simply need to honor you in my way. And crying is my way of—”

A deep anguished sob escaped him knowing his perfect world wasn’t perfect anymore. Perhaps it had never been. Perhaps the laughter they always shared in had hidden the worst in all of them. Regardless, it was now up to him to uphold the family name. For the world, for Andrew, for his mother and cousins, he would be what he was expected to be: strong, responsible and reliable. But for Clementine, he would be everything he already was and wanted to be: hers.

February 26, 1830 – early evening

Essex, England – The Banfield country estate

To the Right Honorable Viscount Banfield,

I regret to inform you that your brother owes me a substantial amount of money after a generous investment I made in the publication of his recent book. I thought I might solicit my original investment and humbly expect the full one thousand two hundred pounds to be delivered into my hands by the end of this month. If you choose to ignore this letter, or the amount owed, I will ensure your brother’s crass association with the Duchess of Winchester will be made known in every last respectable circle. Her husband, from what I am told, is an excellent duelist well known for—

Derek didn’t even bother reading the rest of Lord Trent’s letter. He doubted he’d get anything more out of it. One would think after his own antics prior to their father’s death, he’d be used to handling his brother’s tomfoolery.

One would think.

Glancing at the closed door of the study, Derek Charles Holbrook, Viscount Banfield, tore the parchment in half. Tossing the torn missive into the flames of the hearth beside him, he watched the paper blacken and curl until it frayed into grey ash that collapsed against the coals.

He groaned. One thousand, two hundred pounds? Christ. He’d have to sell every horse in the stable, including the harnesses, the saddles, the whips, the hay, and all the help.

Air. He needed air. He needed—

Jogging across the study, he unhinged the iron latch and folded out the windows facing the open fields and frost-covered gardens below. A cold breeze laced with heavy flakes of snow drifted into the study. He dragged in a deep breath in a valiant attempt to focus.

Old lanterns creaked and swayed against the wind, dimly illuminating the vast walking grounds that were blanketed in white just beyond the ancestral home. An ancestral home that had been dependent all these years on Mr. Grey’s generosity. A generosity Derek would never intrude upon by asking for more money even if he needed it. Because aside from the unending honor of marrying Clementine, he was also getting three million to do it.

He was still recovering from the amount.

Whilst his father had once been dubbed the ‘Laughing Viscount,’ Derek was now being dubbed the ‘Golden Viscount’ by snide audiences due to the ridiculous amount of money he’d soon be marrying into. Of course, those snide commentaries only made him hit his chest in pride, because he
was
golden. Hell, he was getting something not even three million could buy: Clementine.

Unseeing, Derek gripped the window frame, white-knuckled, as a cold breeze picked up strands of unbound shoulder-length hair and whipped it around his face. Swirls of heavy snowflakes stung his skin, fluttering the gold and crimson brocaded curtains that had decorated the window long before he was born.

Unbuttoning his evening coat, Derek latched the window shut. He pulled out a black ribbon from his inner pocket, then raked back and tied his hair tightly, adjusting his queue. Striding back over to the writing desk, he sat and eyed the pile of eight financial ledgers sitting crookedly atop each other. If he paid his brother's debt in full using whatever money he had, he wouldn’t be able to pay the gamekeeper or the land agent who were both awaiting funds.

He'd done a piss-awful attempt of teaching Andrew about cause and effect. After their father died, he tried to be everything to his brother. Only it made Derek realize he’d taken his father’s
noblesse oblige
too far.

He pushed all of the ledgers aside.

Seeing his square tin of ginger hard candies, he grabbed it and opened it. Empty. He’d already eaten them all and knew full well there was nothing left in the confectionary box where he usually stored extra. He groaned, tossing it back onto the desk and rose to his feet. He’d have to ride out to Stanwick’s confectionary shop again and deal with all the women there. Women who didn’t know how to keep their eyes and giggles to themselves. There was
nothing
wrong with a grown man liking candy.

The sound of running steps from down the corridor made him lift his head.

The door of the study rattled. “Derek?” Andrew called out. The door rattled again. “For God’s sake, why is the door locked? What are you doing in there?
Flogging the bishop
?”

Derek glanced back at the locked door outlined by candlelight and rolled his eyes. As if he had time to masturbate anymore. Stripping off his evening coat, he flung it onto the chair and stalked over to the paneled door. Turning the key, he unlatched the bolt and yanked the door open, doing his best not to start yelling.

Andrew snapped out a letter with the wax seal facing up. “It’s from Miss Grey. For it to have arrived at this time of night and by courier, no less, means it must be of
unmitigated
importance.” Andrew grinned, those notorious dimples appearing on each of his lean, shaven cheeks. “Does she ever write anything naughty to you? And if so, do you oblige? Do you two fornicate through letters? Is that how you two—”

“Oh, for God’s sake—” Derek snatched away the letter. “Her father reads all of the letters I send before she does. So I can’t readily frisk her with my own words. I have to keep it tame. Which is damn difficult, I assure you.” Smoothing the parchment against the palm of his hand, knowing she had touched it, he carefully tucked it into his inner waistcoat pocket for later.

Andrew pointed. “Aren’t you going to read it? She sent that by courier.”

“She always sends her letters by courier.”

“So you mean I could have left it on the side table and gone to bed?”

Derek huffed out a breath. “We need to talk.”

Adjusting his coat to better display an expensive embroidered blue waistcoat, Andrew propped himself against the doorframe. “Of course. What would you like to talk about?”

“Your life.”

“Am I in trouble again?”

“What do you think?”

Andrew hissed out a breath. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do it.”

Like hell he didn’t. It wasn’t the first married woman Andrew had gotten involved with. “I just finished going through all of the correspondences for the week. Lord Trent claims you’re involved with the Duke of Winchester’s wife. Is that true?”

Andrew groaned. “I haven’t even been here a day. I was going to tell you.”

It took every ounce of muscle in Derek’s two arms not to grab his brother by the lapels of that coat and shake him until his brass buttons fell off. “Can I ask
why
I’m always the very last to know anything?”

“You’re not the very last. Mother is. Besides, it happened
months
ago. It isn’t even worth talking about.”

Derek swiped his face to maintain composure. “So you bedded her.”

“I thought we were in love. But then I found out…we weren’t.”

“Andrew, what the hell are you doing? Aside from the fact she is married, her husband is the Prime Minister’s left hand!”

“I know! Don’t you think I know?! She called on me, after we met at a gathering her husband hosted and we…
it happened
.”

Derek slowly shook his head. “I don’t even know how Lord Trent
knows
about your involvement with the duchess, but he plans to expose you if I don’t pay the investment he made into your career. And I’m not paying him. Even if I had the means to – which I don’t – I wouldn’t. Because you would learn nothing if I dig you out of this mess. It’s all I ever do for you these days. Dig, dig, dig. I might as well be walking around with a bloody shovel.”

Andrew squinted. “He says I owe him money?”

“Over a thousand. What in God’s name are you doing with all the money I’m sending you from the estate every month? You get more than enough to— Why are you borrowing money from titled men? Can you answer me that? Why?”

“I already paid him. Hell, I had to borrow money from
another
titled man to do it.”

Jesus. “If you paid him, then why is he saying you didn’t?”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Because he’s a damn Boretto man in desperate need of attention, is what.”

“Last I knew I don’t speak Italian. What the hell is a Boretto man?”

“You’re older than I am. How could you not know what a Boretto man is?”

“Don’t chastise me or I’ll put your head under my arm and twist.”

Andrew sighed. “It’s an older gent who fancies young men.”

Derek’s lips parted. “Lord Trent is a sodomite?”

“Has been for years.”

“And how the devil do you know that?”

“Aside from a few unwanted advances? Brayton told me.”

“Brayton? Who the hell is Brayton?”

Andrew touched his head. “Sorry. Lord Brayton and I started sharing living quarters about a week ago after Trent had asked me to take him in given there appears to be a family feud of some sort. I haven’t known this Brayton long, seeing he just got into London, but
bloody hell
you should see the man. He makes criminals with pistols cross the street. Apparently, he was living in various monasteries around the world and got tired of it. He hasn’t been around women in twenty years. And it shows. It’s hilarious.”