The Forgotten Duchess

Chapter Thirty | Waltz

JAMES NURSED HIS drink as he sat in the corner and watched the entrance of White's. He was sure that Westmorland would make an appearance tonight. There was nothing the gentlemen liked more than displaying their power and wealth by spending time at White's—the most exclusive club in all of London.

Taking a sip of his drink, he nodded toward Wellington as their gazes met. The duke raised his glass and James did the same. There was no need for words to be exchanged, he knew the duke's gesture signified respect.

"What are you doing drinking alone?" Headfort interrupted as he took a seat in the empty chair beside him.

James sighed at his friend, "I was waiting for someone."

"Well, wait no longer. I left Berkeley at one of the tables after he defeated me quite soundly. I think its high time you put him in his place."

James flickered an invisible piece of lint from his dark brown tailcoat. "Henry, I am not a dog, eager to do your bidding."

Headfort ran his fingers through his red hair. "Christ James, I don't know what's gotten you in such a terrible mood, but it seems to me that it's imperative that you join the game and shake off your solemn thoughts."

James still did not get up and instead took a long swing of his drink, allowing the liquid to burn his throat.

"Defeating Cedric will make you feel better," Headfort bribed.

James sighed and placed his glass back down onto the table, his friend knew him well, "fine, lead the way."

He didn't miss the triumphed grin on Henry's face as the Marquess led him to the back of the club. Sure enough, Cedric was seated alone, lazily shuffling the cards and speaking quietly to the dealer at the table.

James took his seat, nodding at the two men.

"I see that Henry was able to convince you to join us after all."

"He was in quite the foul mood," Henry said, taking the seat on the left. "Vingt-et-un?" he asked.

James and Cedric both nodded and the dealer handed them their cards, but before James could pick up his, Cedric placed his hands onto them. His blue eyes glowed in the dark, "What happened?"

James tugged on his cards, swatting away Cedric's fingers. His friend didn't relent though, and the blue eyes haunted him from across the table. He sighed; he didn't know why he thought to keep the information to himself. If there was anyone who could read him, it was his great-aunt and Cedric.

He leaned in and lowered his voice. "I found out that my father's death was not an accident."

"For fuck's sake James, you cannot just state something like that without providing more information."

Quickly, James explained everything else that had happened and how he had received the information.

"Ah, so you were waiting for the Earl of Westmoreland," Cedric stated with a knowing glance.

James nodded, "He has yet to appear, but I have plenty of questions."

He flipped his cards over and they began the game. The three of them were silent as they flew through the rounds. James won a couple, as did the dealer, but it was Berkeley who walked away with the most rounds won.

"I'm out," Headfort said throwing his cards across the table. "Absolute terrible luck tonight."

Berkeley snorted, "Isn't that what you say every time we play cards?"