Betrothed to the wrong gentleman: Historical Fiction

CHAPTER 14

‘What did you want?’ She shifted away from him.

Would the chit believe me if I told her what I had seen last night? 

Chadwick had been compelled to pay a visit to the Blue Oyster Inn, one of the seediest brothels in all of England.  He had eyed the courtesans at the main salon.  They mixed freely with the members of the ton and aristocracy.  It mattered not who you were.   Money was of only relevance, not rank or society.

Chadwick’s horse had had an injury, forcing him to stop a short distance before the rather seedy Inn.  Although he cared not about his reputation but even Chadwick, had been weary of stopping outside the sleazy Inn but he needed to attend to one of his stallions that had clearly been in a lot of pain.   What had astounded Chadwick, who did not shock easily, was to see the unsavoury Swain drunk as a skunk and blatantly fondling two harlots.   Swain was shoving money in the more than ample décolletage of the two ladies.  That was rather benevolent of the swine considering he did not have a lot of finances to throw around.  Chadwick was disgusted as he observed one harlot’s hands enthusiastically unbuttoning Swain’s shirt.  The other’s was provocatively on Swain’s thigh. 

Furious, Chadwick had walked up to Swain, his eyes murderous, his fists ready to connect with Swain’s drunken face.  Swain had baulked in surprise.  The lewd grin had disappeared off his face.   Swain stood up.   Clearly the last person he expected to see in the squalid Inn was Chadwick Rochester.  Chadwick flexed his wrist painfully recalling how he had acquired his injury.

‘Swain shall we take this outside or shall I wipe out your face right here?’

‘Mind your own business Rochester.’  Rankin’s face had contorted in anger.

‘I guess I am wiping out your face here,’ Chadwick threw a hefty punch at Swain’s jaw.  He went sprawling backwards on the floor.  Chadwick picked him up and dragged him outside. 

‘Get up!’ Chadwick hissed through clenched teeth.

Rankin struggled to his feet, nursing his jaw.  Chadwick threw a combination of unrelenting punches to Swain’s face.  He tried to protect himself but his reflexes were too slow.  Chadwick’s powerful knee made contact with Swain’s belly.  Swain slumped unceremoniously to the floor and did not get up. 

Chadwick had walked back inside, established where to find a blacksmith to attend to his horse.  He then paid the Innkeeper a few gold coins for a new horse and hurried away from the decrepit brothel house.   He found the blacksmith, paid him to attend to his horse, informing him, a groom would collect his horse the next day.

With considerable effort Chadwick dragged his attention back to the present.  Was it his place to inform Lady Madison of her betrothed’s lurid habit?  Would she think he had an ulterior motive and was just making mischief?   Perhaps it would just push her further into Swain’s arms and the stubborn chit would avoid him completely in future.  Best he find another means to make her aware of her betrothed’s penchant for sleazy harlots, unless she was prepared to tolerate the infidelity.  She may just be the type of Lady that would allow her husband to keep a mistress in that case, his counsel would be wasted.

‘Very well,’ he walked to the drinks tray and poured himself a glass of whisky.  ‘Want something?’ he offered.  Madison shook her head.

Pouring himself a more than generous drink, he instructed, ‘‘You must call off your betrothal.’

‘I beg your pardon!’

‘Swain is wrong for you.’ 

Madison glared at him incredulously.