“And very good looking,” Rhoda added.
Cecily eyed her suspiciously. “Indeed…”
Justin nodded, pleased when his ball dropped into the pocket on the opposite end of the table. Taking a sip of fine scotch, he contemplated the remaining configuration. Prescott leaned against the back of one of the settees, holding his own cue, while Blakely, Lieutenant Langdon, Mr. Stephen Nottingham, and his father-in-law, Mr. Thomas Findlay, lounged on the other side of the room.
The gentlemen had been abandoned for the afternoon while the ladies locked themselves away in one of the drawing rooms together. They’d considered going riding, but ominous weather lingered on the horizon and none of them fancied getting drenched.
Apparently, Blakely and Nottingham knew one another from their various travels.
“You realize my cousin has returned to London.” Nottingham strolled across the room to address Prescott.
Dev nodded, still studying the table. “He showed up at White’s before we left.”
Justin missed his shot and stepped back. Nottingham, the Earl of Kensington. He’d not forget the name of the man who’d attempted to force himself upon Miss Mossant barely one week ago.
Oh, hell. How had he not connected the names before now? “He is a relation of yours?” Justin asked the gentleman who’d only just arrived today.
“My cousin,” Mr. Nottingham replied. Looking at him now, Justin was surprised he’d not made the connection immediately. There existed an almost uncanny likeness between the two men—physically, anyhow. Both were fair-haired and blue-eyed. Except this gentleman wasn’t a dandy like his titled cousin. His eyes possessed an intelligence the earl lacked. And his build and complexion reflected years of physical labor.
“Did you speak with him?” Dev asked Nottingham.
Mr. Nottingham ran one hand through his hair. “I did. Dammit, but I wish he’d remained in the country with Daphne.”
“Daphne?” Justin hadn’t listened to gossip enough to stay abreast of all this.
Nottingham glanced his way. “His wife.”
Devlin sank his shot and then gave the subject his full attention. The other gentlemen had struck up a game of cards and paid little heed. Dev spoke softly though. “He’s intent upon making matters difficult for Miss Mossant.”
Nottingham nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me. When we had drinks, Flave said he blamed Miss Mossant for most of what he went through last year.”
“How would that be her fault?” Justin would have clarification on such a statement.
“He thinks she informed the chit’s father… the one who sliced through one of his bollocks with his sword. Ridiculous, of course. Everyone knew what he was up to. He’s always brought these calamities upon himself.” Such relations certainly couldn’t be an enviable situation for Stephen Nottingham.
Devlin then went on to relay an almost unbelievable sequence of events involving Mr. and Mrs. Nottingham and his cousin, Kensington.
Miss Mossant, Mrs. Nottingham, the duchess, and Miss Goodnight all had good reason to mistrust the earl. Justin was surprised Miss Mossant had consented to partner Kensington for that one dance.
“So, is it true then, that the incident rendered him… impotent?” The bastard hadn’t appeared to be when he’d come across them.
“Initially.” Mr. Nottingham grimaced. “But apparently, his virility has been restored. More compelling, however, is his lack of funds. He’s torn through his allowance and although I’ve increased it and set up advances for him, he cannot, to save his life, stay out of debt.” Stephen Nottingham pinched the bridge of his nose. “Since returning most of Cecily’s dowry to Findlay, I’ve poured a considerable amount of my own funds into the estates. I simply cannot continue doing so.”
“So, Kensington sees his only hope to fill his pockets is the wager. What are the estimated winnings up to now?”
“Sixty-two thousand pounds the last I checked.”
Dev let out a low whistle. “That amount is unreal. I’ll need to inform Sophia.”
Mr. Nottingham nodded. “It’s a deuced fortune. A fortune Flave sees as the answer to all his woes. I don’t trust him. He disappointed me last year. I have a feeling he figures he has nothing to lose.”
Dev nodded.
Justin glanced across the room. Shouldn’t Blakely be included in this conversation? If he was to become her protector? Were Prescott and the duchess aware of Miss Mossant’s engagement? Hell,was Blakely? He certainly didn’t act like it.
For all of one second, he considered revealing what Kensington had attempted at the Crabtree Ball. But he did not. Miss Mossant already seemed shaken by the rumors and the wager. Nothing in her life was private anymore. She’d certainly not appreciate him exposing the events of that evening.
“Join us for a hand!” Lieutenant Langdon beckoned from across the room. “You gents are far too serious for a house party. Put down the cues and place your bets.”
