Treating a Sinful Earl by Henrietta Harding

Chapter 2

 

 

James stumbled just a little, squinting into the sky. His head was spinning slightly. How had it become daylight? He was sure that it had still been dark when he had entered the Bellevue Club. He must have been in there for hours. The place must never close.

 

 

 

He glanced at the gentleman walking alongside him, who was leaning a little too heavily on a walking stick. James knew that Mr Lewis Hann didn’t really need the thing—it was just an affectation, a current fashionable item. Lewis had always been a bit of a dandy, after all. But something told him that the gentleman might be as worse for wear from an evening at the club in Gillridge as he was.

 

 

 

James stopped abruptly. “My carriage,” he whispered, pointing across the street. “There it is. I suppose I should get into it and head home. My dear mother will be having an apoplexy wondering where I am.”

 

 

 

Lewis Hann laughed, a tad too loudly, for whatever time it was in the morning. “Still tied to the old girl’s apron strings, Fernside? You disappoint me. I thought you were a sophisticated man-about-town now. At least that is what I have heard.”

 

 

 

James scowled at him. “You are insufferable, Hann.”

 

 

 

The gentleman laughed harder. “That I am. Let us go for a little walk before we end the evening’s revelries entirely. I find it freshens the mind after an evening of debauchery at the card table.”

 

 

 

James shrugged. What did it matter if he was back at Temple Hall within the hour or the next? And besides, Lewis was right. It would refresh him.

 

 

 

They set off down the road, weaving a little. Lewis twirled his walking stick theatrically, causing two older matrons to raise their eyebrows at the pair as they passed by. James barely stifled a laugh. He had forgotten how staid and parochial it was in these towns and villages. He was rather too used to London.

 

 

 

He eyed his companion myopically. He had known Lewis Hann for years, but they had never been particularly good friends. But when he had spied him in the club, he couldn’t resist challenging him to a game of whist for a rather large amount of coin.

 

 

 

Lewis was an eager gambler, always ready to jump in and place a wager. They had played game after game together, all the while slowly drinking their way through a decanter of the club’s finest whiskey.

 

 

 

They kept walking, rounding a corner. It was busier here. James suddenly realised they had stumbled onto one of Gillridge’s fashionable shopping areas. There were ladies dressed in their morning gowns and frilly bonnets peering into shop windows and gentlemen talking quietly in groups. The sight of such morning respectability was altogether far too much for him.

 

 

 

He gripped Lewis’s arm. “We cannot go down this street!” Quickly, he looked around. There was a park across the street, beside a winding river. “Let us go to that park, Hann. We can lay by the riverbank and feed the ducks or some such thing.”

 

 

 

Lewis laughed, lurching slightly to the left. James thought he might be in danger of toppling over like a felled tree.

 

 

 

“Jolly good!” he proclaimed loudly, causing a group of fashionable Gillridge residents to gape at him. James thought there may have even been a vicar in the group. “Off we go!”

 

 

 

He lurched onto the street, narrowly missing a passing carriage. Cursing underneath his breath, James caught up with him, pulling him back. Carefully, they made their way across the street, managing to get to the park in one piece.

 

 

 

He breathed a sigh of relief. It was much quieter here. There were a few people promenading but not as many as were on that street. The river looked serene and welcoming, too. There were ducks and swans and a myriad of other birdlife. Just what he needed in his frazzled state.

 

 

 

They fell onto the grass by the riverbank, gazing over the water. Lewis fell onto his back, staring up at the sky. James thought he might be in danger of passing out entirely.

 

 

 

“So, how has London been treating you?” asked Lewis, his eyes closed.

 

 

 

“I am enjoying it immensely,” he replied, gazing back down the path. “There is always something to do. The theatre, or musical recitals, or the clubs along Bond Street.” He paused. “I find Lockham and even Gillridge quite dull by comparison.”

 

 

 

“How long are you in the area for?” asked Lewis, hauling himself upright.

 

 

 

James shrugged. “Until I am no longer needed. My father has been ill, on and off, and my mother requested some assistance with the running of the estate, even though he has a perfectly adequate man of affairs.” He shrugged again. “I think perhaps she just wants some support. I cannot wait to get back to London, my friend.”

 

 

 

His mind drifted to Lady Arabella and their unpleasant encounter at the tearooms in Lockham two days ago. He was inclined to skip this upcoming ball at the Townshends country estate entirely to avoid seeing her again. He had mentioned it to Peter, but his friend had seemed disappointed. But there was still time to work on him.

 

 

 

He stared at the river dolefully. That was one of the main problems in coming back to Dorset. There seemed to be ghosts around every corner. And it was most unpleasant dealing with it. It made him uncomfortable that he was despised so utterly in certain quarters. Although if truth were told, it was only Arabella.

 

 

 

Lewis hiccupped delicately. “I am thinking of relocating permanently to London myself. A man needs to stretch his wings a little. Perhaps you could introduce me to some of your acquaintances when I get there, Fernside.”

 

 

 

James was just about to answer him when his blood froze. For walking down the path by the river just ahead of them was a small party of ladies, their parasols high above their heads. They were talking amongst themselves. He was almost certain they hadn’t seen the two gentlemen laying on the riverbank yet.

 

 

 

He cursed underneath his breath. It was none other than Lady Arabella and her mother, accompanied by her good friend, Miss Phoebe Bastable.

 

 

 

He jumped to his feet, dragging Lewis by the arm. “Come with me,” he hissed. “Now.”

 

 

 

Lewis looked surprised but didn’t say anything. The two men stumbled down the path in the opposite direction. When they were far enough away, he spied a rotunda, quickly veering towards it. As soon as they climbed the steps up to it, he crouched low, forcing Lewis to do the same.

 

 

 

“My dear chap,” whispered Lewis, gazing at him in amazement. “This is all very cloak and dagger! Pray tell, why are we hiding like fugitives in this smelly old rotunda? Is it something to do with that group of ladies by any chance?”

 

 

 

James’s mouth tightened. He thought that Lewis hadn’t seen the group of ladies. But even in his cups, Lewis Hann was like a bloodhound on the scent. Nothing ever got past him.

 

 

 

“I just need to avoid Lady Arabella,” he whispered furtively.

 

 

 

“Why? Do tell,” whispered Lewis, his eyebrows shooting up.

 

 

 

James cursed. “It is old business, Hann. I courted her many moons ago. But she has never forgiven me for breaking it off. I ran into her at the Nightingale tearooms only a few days ago, and let us just say if looks could kill….” He shrugged ineffectually.

 

 

 

Lewis smiled, his eyes gleaming. “You and the delectable Lady Arabella? How did I never hear of it? I usually have my finger on everything that happens in this district.”

 

 

 

James sighed heavily. He wished now he hadn’t mentioned it at all. But then, he had to give some rationale for his extreme behaviour.

 

 

 

“We kept it a secret,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Not many people knew about it. It was quite intense between us for a while there.”

 

 

 

Lewis suddenly poked his head up. James knew that the ladies would be passing the rotunda by now or very soon. Desperately he dragged him down again.

 

 

 

“I mean it, Hann,” he whispered furiously. “I do not want to see that lady. Especially in my present state. I could just imagine the look of contempt in her eyes.”

 

 

 

“It seems to me that you still carry a flame for Lady Arabella,” said Lewis, smiling wickedly. “Why else would you care what she thinks of you?”

 

 

 

“I have no feelings for her at all anymore,” he hissed. “It is old news. It is just unpleasant, that is all. No one likes to be so thoroughly hated. Just let it be, Hann. Keep your head down, and they will soon pass, and then we can be on our way.”

 

 

 

“Hmmm,” said Lewis, his eyes still twinkling with mirth. “Perhaps we could put it to the test, my friend. You say that the Lady Arabella truly despises you now?”

 

 

 

“She detests me,” said James glumly, slumping against the rotunda wall. “I swear she would have my guts for garters if I let her.”

 

 

 

Lewis gazed at him, a sly look on his face. “You lost quite a lot of coin to me last evening, Fernside. Quite a lot indeed.”

 

 

 

“I told you I am good for it,” said James sourly. “I just need to get back to London to secure the funds, that is all.”

 

 

 

Lewis smiled. “What if I were to tell you I am willing to let the debt go entirely? I propose another wager.” His smile widened. He looked for all the world like an angel that had just fallen to Earth, instead of the devil that he was. “I think Lady Arabella still harbours feelings for you, my friend. Shall we put it to the test? I want you to try your hardest to win back the fine feelings of the lady—to have her fall in love with you again. If you succeed, then we shall call it quits. You owe me nothing. If you lose, however, the debt stands, and I shall call it in.”

 

 

 

James gaped at him. “You want me to do what? It is impossible, man! She can barely speak to me. You want me to try to make her fall in love with me?”

 

 

 

Lewis nodded. “Just so. It shall be a challenge of gargantuan proportions, I grant you. But therein lies the sport. I shall be watching with bated breath from the sidelines.”

 

 

 

“I have not agreed to it yet,” muttered James, shaking his head. “It is probably one of the most foolish things I have ever heard….”

 

 

 

Lewis sighed. “London is turning you into a lily-livered dandy, Fernside. And do not forget, you owe me rather a lot of coin.”

 

 

 

James glared at him. It was true he had gambled past his limits last evening. His father would not be happy when he heard about it. James only got a limited income from the estate until he inherited the title. And with his father unwell, it seemed cruel to burden the old man with it. The Marquis was notoriously frugal and despised gambling, calling it the devil’s work.

 

 

 

But accepting this bet meant that his debt would be wiped. His father need never know about it. It was just a little tempting.

 

 

 

He gazed back at Lewis. “How long would I have to win her over? Is there a time limit?”

 

 

 

Lewis coughed into his hand. “By midsummer. That gives you three months, at least. More than enough time to gradually woo her and convince her you are not the devil incarnate.” He smiled suddenly. “The Basingstokes always hold a midsummer ball. That can be the line drawn in the sand on the matter. If you have not won the lady over by the night of the ball, then we shall say you have failed. We could even give you until the stroke of midnight. A dash of Cinderella to add to the mix.”

 

 

 

James shook his head in disgust. It was a cad’s bet. No true gentleman would ever bet on such a thing. He knew that.

 

 

 

But his competitive instincts were roused, now. He had never been able to refuse a bet. Especially one so challenging.

 

 

 

“Is it a deal?” asked Lewis, holding out his hand.

 

 

 

James hesitated for a moment. Then he stuck out his hand, shaking his friend’s extended hand.

 

 

 

“Deal,” he said.

 

 

 

“Oh, well done!” cried Lewis, forgetting the need to be quiet in his excitement. “This shall be jolly good sport!” He suddenly looked around him. “Have they passed by yet? Are we able to leave this rotunda? I fear I am in need of my bed soon, Fernside.”

 

 

 

James glanced down the path. He could just see the backs of the ladies, their parasols swaying above their shoulders. He almost sagged with relief. They were gone. He didn’t have to deal with the wrath of Arabella today at least.

 

 

 

His heart lurched. How on earth was he even going to attempt to win this bet when he was scared to even speak to her?

 

 

 

His mind started spinning. It was all too much to contemplate now. He needed to get into his carriage and get to bed, have at least a few hours kip underneath his belt. Things were starting to seem strange and almost hallucinatory. Rather like the only time he had visited an opium den in London and over imbibed on the poppy. That experience had scared him off for life.

 

 

 

He staggered to his feet, holding out his hand to Lewis and helping him up. Carefully, they made their way down the steps of the rotunda and back through the park. As soon as they were outside the club again, they parted ways. Lewis headed to his carriage, and James almost collapsed across the seat of his.

 

 

 

The carriage lurched away. He was asleep before it even reached the corner.

 

 

 

***                                                                         

 

 

 

Arabella sat in the parlour with Phoebe, sipping tea. Her mother had finally left them after their excursion into Gillridge, and she could speak to her best friend alone, at last.

 

 

 

Phoebe put down her teacup, seemingly as eager as she was to talk privately. “What is it you wanted to tell me, Arabella?”

 

 

 

Arabella bit her lip, gazing at her best friend. Now that the time had come, she wasn’t at all sure she should mention how she had run into James Fernside the other day. Even though she had been bursting to talk about it with Phoebe. She was the only one who knew about what had happened between them, all those years ago. At least, Arabella believed she was.

 

 

 

She took a deep breath. “James Fernside is back in the district. I ran into him at the Nightingale tearooms.”

 

 

 

Phoebe looked aghast. “Oh, dearest! How dreadful for you! Did you speak?”

 

 

 

Arabella smiled tightly. “Yes and no. At least, he spoke to Mama, making pleasantries. He had no choice. He looked like a cornered rat.” She shuddered. “It amazes me that I still want to slap his face after all this time, but there you have it.”

 

 

 

Phoebe looked sad. “It is a shame that you still feel so strongly about it, Arabella. It is water under the bridge now. Can you not just talk to him in a neutral way and be done with it? I only say this because I care about you. I do not want you to become bitter.”

 

 

 

Arabella’s nostrils flared. She didn’t want to hear this. She wanted Phoebe to be as outraged as she was, fanning the flames of her contempt. But instead, her best friend was trying to be wise and sensible about the whole thing, forcing her to perhaps look at it from another perspective.

 

 

 

Arabella sighed. She loved her friend for trying. But it was never going to work. It seemed that James Fernside was as a red rag to a bull with her. He always had been, and he always would be. It didn’t matter how much time had passed. The feelings were as intense as they had ever been.

 

 

 

Except now, she hated him rather than loved him.

 

 

 

“I do not intend to become bitter,” she said, gazing steadily at her friend. “Not in the least. But James Fernside deserves every bit of contempt that I have for him. You know that he does, Phoebe.”

 

 

 

Phoebe nodded. “I know what he did to you, Arabella. It was not a nice thing at all. I do not mean to sound flippant when I said that perhaps you need to move on a little. I am very mindful of the pain he caused you and the fact he was an utter cad.” She paused. “But is he still the same man? People can change, you know. He might have matured since he moved to London. Stranger things have happened. He might deeply regret the pain he caused you and wish that things had ended differently.”

 

 

 

Arabella shrugged. “He may be a different man now. He may have matured. Who knows? But I do not intend to give him the benefit of the doubt. He revealed his true colours to me, and I could never fully trust he would behave any differently.” She hesitated. “It is best that we avoid each other. I know he desires it as much as I do.”

 

 

 

“How do you know that, dearest?” asked Phoebe in a gentle voice. “How can you be so sure?”

 

 

 

Arabella laughed outright. “Phoebe, you should have seen his face in the tearooms. Believe me, he only spoke to us because he was forced to. And he hightailed it out of there, claiming he had forgotten an appointment. They did not even sit down.”

 

 

 

“They?” questioned Phoebe. “He was not alone?”

 

 

 

Arabella shook her head. “He was with his friend, Peter Mowbray. I used to call him the Shadow because he was always one step behind us at events.” Her face softened a little. “Peter is not a bad man, though. I quite liked him. A pity that it is so awkward between us now because of his friend.”

 

 

 

Phoebe took a deep breath. “Well, perhaps James Fernside’s visit shall be short, and you will not see him again, dearest. We can only hope.”

 

 

 

Arabella raised her eyebrows. “I am afraid there is little hope for that. He is attending the Townshends’ ball this weekend. I pleaded with Mama to get out of it but to no avail.” She chewed the end of her thumb absently. “I will be on alert and duck behind pillars if I must. And you must have your eye out for him as well, Phoebe. We can be a team.”

 

 

 

Phoebe laughed. “Very well. I shall do my best, dearest. But please, do not let him spoil your evening. That would be a shame.”

 

 

 

Arabella shrugged again. “I do not especially care for balls anyway, Phoebe, as you know. I only attend them to appease Mama. She still has hopes that some eligible gentleman will sweep me off my feet and lead me to the altar.”

 

 

 

Phoebe looked sad. “That is still possible, Arabella. You are only in your early twenties. Do not let one broken heart put you off men for life. That would be the biggest tragedy of all.”

 

 

 

Arabella forced a smile onto her face. But she didn’t know what to say to her best friend at all. She wished she could reassure her, but the words simply would not come.

 

 

 

She took a deep breath. This was her life now, and she simply had to accept it. She wasn’t the same person she had once been. And there was nothing she could do about it.