The Earl of Whitstable was a frequent visitor of Brooks, the gentlemen’s club on St James’s Street, and it was there Nathanial found him partaking of a late lunch. As always, in the middle of the day, there were few patrons, and Nathanial was relieved to find him sitting on a table alone. This entire business was better conducted in private.
Whitstable looked up and regarded him with a rheumy and somewhat confused eye. “Norfolk?”
“Good day.”
He grunted and turned his attention to his pheasant, stabbing it with his knife. “A good day indeed.”
“It’s fortunate I found you here,” Nathanial said, leaning forward until he was certain he had Whitstable’s attention. “You’re just the man I was hoping to speak to.”
“I am?”
“You are. You see, I have it on excellent authority you believe yourself engaged to Lady Theodosia Beaumont.”
Whitstable blinked, but recovered himself quickly. “Never mind believe myself, Norfolk. I spoke with her father yesterday and it’s all settled.”
Nathanial couldn’t help the curl of his lip as he said, “And the lady?”
“Pardon?”
“Did you speak to the lady herself about her preferences?”
It was clear this question was both unexpected and unwelcome. Whitstable glowered across the table and used his knife with more force than strictly necessary. “It’s an eligible match for a lady without a dowry.”
“Yes, I thought you might not have considered her thoughts on the matter.” This was the part he had been looking forward to, and he braced his hands behind his head as he leant back, observing with grim triumph that the Earl hadn’t taken a bite since his arrival. “If you had, you would have known that she is, in fact, promised to me.”
Silence settled over the two men as Whitstable’s eyes bugged and his face slowly turned a shade of puce that meant nothing good for his heart. Nathanial was quite prepared to wait until the Earl had recovered his faculties, and turned his attention to the smoky room. With detached interest, he noted the velvet curtains that had been drawn to reveal the bustling street, the crystal decanters that were perfectly positioned at every table, and the green-and-white colouring that indicated this was a male-only domain.
“There must be some mistake,” Whitstable said at last, his voice strained. “I spoke with her father. We need only make an announcement—”
“And as you have not yet done so, it limits the embarrassment that could otherwise arise from this situation. I have just come from her father, where I informed him of the prior understanding between the lady and I.” His smile was cold. “He was more than accommodating once I made my position clear.”
The Earl’s jowls quivered with indignation. “And what position is that?”
“That I will not allow her to marry a man so much her senior when her affections are engaged elsewhere.”
“This is preposterous. I spoke with her father first. The prior claim is mine.”
“Unfortunately for you, Lady Theodosia would rather marry me,” Nathanial said smoothly, taking particular pleasure from the way the Earl’s face reddened. “Which, if you had consulted her prior to speaking with her father, you might have known.”
“Her father—”
“Was unaware of her attachment. My father’s recent passing meant I was unable to declare myself as I otherwise would have done.” Nathanial hoped the Earl would conveniently forget he had been out of mourning for a full month. “I suggest you accept this with the grace that befits your position.”
“You may be the Duke of Norfolk, but that title has barely had the time to grow old on your shoulders.”
“Was that a threat?” Nathanial asked softly. This man was twice his age, but in wealth, status and health, Nathanial was the superior.
“Not a threat, of course.” Whitstable dabbed his napkin against his mouth. “But for you to have engaged in an understanding with the lady without her father’s consent. Shady dealings. Shady indeed.”
Nathanial raised an eyebrow. “That is a weighty accusation.”
“Well, I had not intended . . . I have been duped, sir. Deceived.”
“It is regrettable. Yet short of forcing the lady into a marriage she does not want, there is little you can do to rectify the situation. I do not suggest making it public.” His eyes werehard. “Any attempt to discredit me will not reflect well on you.”
“You—”
“Good day, Whitstable. I hope your disappointment is of short duration.” He rose and walked away, leaving the Earl to his impotent rage and cold breakfast.
