Victor grabbed his gloves from the entry table. “Immediately.”
Baxter bowed. “At once, Your Grace.”
The ride into London did little to settle his thoughts. By the time Victor arrived at Morgan Harding’s townhouse, his mood hadonly worsened. A servant admitted him promptly, and within moments, Morgan appeared in the drawing room grinning like a delighted fox.
“Well now,” Morgan drawled. “Either society has collapsed or married life bores you already.”
Victor tossed his gloves onto a chair. “I require diversion.”
Morgan lit up immediately. “Ah, excellent. I knew marriage would not tame you entirely.”
Victor already regretted coming.
Morgan poured him a drink before dropping carelessly into an armchair. “So,” he said brightly, “cards, whisky, or women?”
Victor took the glass with a grim expression. “None appeal presently.”
Morgan stared at him in theatrical horror. “Good God, it is worse than I feared.”
Victor glared. “Do stop behaving like an idiot.”
Morgan grinned. “Impossible.”
Victor drank deeply before speaking again. “Charlotte has gone to stay with her family.”
Morgan blinked once. “And you have come to me looking like a widower because your wife visited relatives?”
Victor hated how ridiculous it sounded aloud.
Morgan leaned forward with poorly concealed delight. “You miss her.”
Victor scowled immediately. “Do not start.”
Morgan laughed outright.
“Victor, you look one melancholy poem away from throwing yourself into the Thames.”
“I merely needed distraction,” Victor muttered.
Morgan snapped his fingers immediately. “Then Vauxhall it is.”
Victor grimaced. “I am not in the mood.”
Morgan stood anyway. “Which is precisely why you must go.”
A couple of hours later, they entered Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens beneath glowing lanterns and roaring conversation. Music drifted through the crowded pathways while elegantly dressed women laughed behind painted fans. Couples wandered arm in arm beneath illuminated trees, and the scent of wine, smoke,and sweet pastries filled the early evening air. Ordinarily, the lively chaos would have suited Victor perfectly.
Tonight, it only exhausted him.
Morgan seemed oblivious to his mood as he guided them toward a crowded table near the musicians.
“There,” he declared cheerfully. “Enough noise and vice to restore any man’s spirit.”
Victor sat heavily and immediately reached for the whisky. “Doubtful.”
Women noticed them almost instantly. Several recognised Victor and began drifting closer with practiced smiles and fluttering lashes. One blonde woman leaned close enough for her perfume to nearly suffocate him.
“Your Grace,” she purred. “It has been some time.”
