Yes, Rov did well with the members of the Commons—as could be seen by the number of them who had stopped by their box this evening. But he was not controllable. He ignored Gavin’s recommendations and handled matters his own way . . . and Gavin was starting to suspect Rov might be involved in double-dealing, even in accepting bribes.
Nor had the income helped. Rov’s gambling was even worse now. Jane had come to Gavin only that afternoon, begging him to help. Apparently Rov had placed wagers all over London that he would bed a woman known as the Siren.
“He’s besotted with her,” Jane had said. “He saw her in performance years ago and has never forgotten her.”
“But to place a bet on bedding her?” Gavin had said in disbelief.
“See for yourself. My husband is a fool.”
She’d been right.
With a bit of investigation, Gavin had learned Rov had placed a fortune on the bedding wagers. He’d also paid five hundred pounds for the private box right next to the stage, an exorbitant amount even if there had been some decent acting presented.
And Rov was as bold as you please about his wager. All evening, men had stopped by to up their wagers or badger Rov about his “swordsmanship.” Gavin knew Rov was fond of actresses. He liked Jane and hoped she never found out about Rov’s many mistresses, who probably had received more of her husband’s money than she did.
All in all, Gavin realized he had made a bad decision in trusting Rov. He could hear his father mock him. His father had always warned Gavin to stay away from gamblers. Then again, his father himself had made more than one bad investment, and wasn’t that a form of gambling?
Other members in the box with Rov and Gavin included Admiral Alexander Daniels and Lord Phillips, who was a member of the Chancery. Both were well into their cups, Phillips being the worst of the two. There was also Rov’s cousin, Sir John Harmond, a well respected mathematician who twittered like a girl at every act. There were also two sly fellows who were quite obvious sharps, confirming the disturbing rumors Gavin had been hearing about his friend.
“This is Harris and Crowder,” Rov had introduced them offhandedly.
“Your Grace,” Crowder had said for the twosome, but not with the deference Gavin was accustomed to receiving. They acted as if they’d seen too much of men, of the underbelly of the beast, to be humbled just by his mere presence. Rov was nothing more than a mark for them, a man caught up in his spending ways and, if friends did not become involved in the situation, they would eat him alive.
Gavin didn’t have many close companions—male or female. His title was a barrier as were the duties that took up the majority of his time. His father had impressed upon him that a man of substance must hold himself to a higher standard than those around him.
So, while his peers were going off on larks and entertainments, Gavin worked. He had a sense of obligation to his country. He used his considerable political influence to support the right causes, to be the sort of duke his title bade him to be. He prided himself on being the kind of man who stood head and shoulders above others.
It kept him busy and left little time for personal friendships and perhaps that was why he’d trusted Rov too much. As he watched half-naked sheep dance on stage, his mind chewed on the problem of how best to keep his friend from ruining himself—
A sharp jab to his arm almost caused him to spill the swill in his mug. “I told you this was going to be something, eh?” Rov asked, his eyes bright, excited. He was a tad shorter than Gavin and thinner, with blond hair. Lines of dissipation from long nights and hard drinking were beginning to show on his handsome face. “I said this is what you have been needing, Baynton, instead of poring over reports to Parliament and Whitehall. A man needs to play. You need to unleash the wolf inside.” He emphasized the last words by bouncing his fist off of Gavin’s shoulder. “Especially before you leg-shackle yourself.”
He referred to Gavin’s hunt for a wife.
“If I had a wife like yours, I’d be home playing,” Gavin said pointedly, trying to keep his tone mild.
Rov laughed. “Jane’s a good lass, but a man can get bored eating the same meal night after night. There comes a time when he realizes he is growing soft, aging . . . and he wishes for something more. You don’t know how fortunate you are to have escaped the parson’s knot—”
“What ho, what are we discussing here?” Admiral Daniels said boozily, leaning between them. “Is His Grace still trying to find a wife?”
“I tell him it isn’t worth it,” Rov answered.
“It isn’t,” Daniels said. “Better a mistress than a wife. I liked that yellow-haired gal up there on the stage. Nice bit she was. More than a handful.” He made a squeezing motion in the air as if he held a breast in his palm.
Rov laughed and Sir John twittered and Gavin wished he were somewhere else. He hated that his personal affairs had become public knowledge. Of course, after being jilted by two women, there would be gossip.
And advice.
And marriage offers.
Everyone was tendering their daughters, sisters, cousins, even aunts to him, along with the promise that their candidates for his wife would go through with the marriage. Meanwhile, Gavin sensed those same young women were wondering what was wrong with him that two women had bolted. Humbling.
But he wasn’t about to take advice from the likes of Daniels.
Before he could give a tart response, a serving girl with rosy cheeks entered their box with drinks that had been ordered. Lord Phillips reached right across Gavin to slam his empty tankard on her tray.
“Careful now,” the girl chided.
Phillips looked taken aback. “Do you know who I am?”
