“It’s not the worst possible circumstances,” his brother said with a wry smile. “She could be a murderer on the run from the law.”
“Touché.”
Peter leaned forward. “If you want to convince her that your feelings are sincere, then you should do some sort of grand gesture. Perhaps announce your love publicly or serenade her.” He made a face. “On second thought, do not do that. Your singing voice leaves much to be desired.”
“I never planned to serenade her. I think that would just be uncomfortable for both of us.” He sighed. “I will think about a grand gesture, though.”
However, that wasn’t the only thing to think about. Peter’s words from earlier stuck in his mind. Maybe his brother was right, and Joanna would end up marrying him through practicality, no matter what her current thoughts on the situation were.
He didn’t want her to feel forced into marrying him. He would rather she do so because she loved him, too. Not because she needed his protection or money. But would there ever be a way for him to be sure of that?
After they drank their fill, the two brothers left the private room and wandered into the main room of the gentlemen’s club. Evan was feeling a little more relaxed and slightly lightheaded from the liquor, and he could tell Peter was feeling the same because of his flushed face and wide smile.
They weren’t even close to the drunkest people in the room. Nobles mingled together, laughing and drinking. Some sang along loudly to the music being played by a quartet and an accompanying singer in one corner of the room. Others were at the card tables, laughing loudly while they gambled away their money.
Evan and Peter were about to head out of the club to go home when Evan glanced at one of the card tables and stopped when he saw a familiar face.
Peter stopped walking when he realized his brother wasn’t right behind him and gave him a questioning look before following his gaze. Both of them saw the Viscount of Clifford staring at his cards with a dejected look on his face.
“Should we do something?” Peter asked.
Evan didn’t respond. He was already heading for the table. He clapped his hand on the viscount’s shoulder. “Good evening, Clifford,” he said.
The man looked up at him, surprised, and then ashamed. “Your Grace.”
Evan was aware that all eyes were on them. No doubt, people knew the connection between them and were probably very interested in this interaction because of the article with Joanna.Do none of these people have lives of their own? Why do they care so much about other people’s business?
“I have an urgent matter of Parliament I would like to discuss with you,” Evan said. “How about you share my carriage on the way home so we can talk about it?”
“Ah, yes. One more game, Your Grace.” He turned to look guiltily at the cards.
“No,” Evan said. “Now.”
Something in his tone kept the viscount from arguing. He stood up, clearing his throat. “Good night, gentlemen,” he murmured to the other people at the table.
Evan and the viscount joined Peter, and the three men walked out of the club.
Once they were outside, the viscount had a flighty look in his eyes that was between panicked and dazed. “I think I left my hat in there. One moment?—”
“You didn’t,” Evan said. “Come on. We will take you to Clifford Manor.”
Despair crossed his face, and he shook his head. “No, I can’t go back there,” he said. “They will not expect me back until morning anyway. They don’t want…” he sighed. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I am not myself at the moment.”
Evan didn’t doubt that. He was sure the viscount was blaming himself for everything that happened that morning. Evan could not fix that. But he could at least keep the man from gambling away more money he did not have.
“If you don’t want to go home, then you will spend the night at Blackwell Manor. We will send a message to your family to let them know you are safe.”
The viscount’s brow furrowed. “Why would you do that, Your Grace? I know the courtship with my daughter was a sham. And it is over anyway.”
Evan shrugged. He didn’t have a good reason for it except that he knew Joanna would prefer her father sleeping at Blackwell Manor than sitting at a card table. He was too tired and intoxicated to think of a better excuse. “Because I want to,” he said.
The three men got into the carriage. Peter smiled at the man and held out his hand to shake. “I don’t believe we have officially met, Your Lordship,” he said. “I am Peter Swinton, the duke’s brother.”
The viscount shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Swinton.”
“You don’t need to call me that. I detest formalities. It’s nice weather tonight, isn’t it?”
The two of them made slightly strained small talk, leaving Evan to his thoughts as he stared out the window, wondering what he should do next.
