Page 61 of Wagering for Miss Blake (Lords and Ladies in Love 4)

The walk home did nothing to calm him.

“Macon!” Giles shouted for his valet the minute he slammed the front door.

“Yes, Mr. Templeton.” Macon came down the stairs, a boot and boot brush in his hands.

“Pack up everything. We are leaving for Bedfordshire.” He took the stairs two at a time and brushed past the valet.

If Macon had a question about his orders, it did not show on his face. He turned and followed Giles to his bedchamber. “When are we leaving, sir?”

“As soon as we’re packed.”

At sixes and sevens and unsure what to do with himself, Giles went back downstairs and strode to the kitchen, surprising Cook with his abrupt entrance.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Templeton. How can I help you?”

“Where is Mrs. Adams?” He cringed at his tone, but he had no time for niceties.

Cook thought for a moment. “I believe she is upstairs supervising the new maid in her duties.”

He raced up the servant stairs from the kitchen to the bedchamber floor. His housekeeper was just coming from one of the bedchambers.

“Mrs. Adams. I am leaving today for Bedfordshire. Please do whatever it is you need to do to close up the house.”

Her brows rose. “Yes, Mr. Templeton. How long will you be gone?”

“Forever.” He strode past her to his bedchamber and ran into Macon coming out of the room, almost knocking the poor man off his feet. He growled in his direction and continued on.

Once he reached the middle of his bedchamber, his heart pumping, his breath coming in short pants, he came to an abrupt halt. Now what? Aside from punching the wall, which would probably break his hand, he had nothing to do. Macon was busy running back and forth, packing, and Mrs. Adams stood in the corridor giving orders to the staff. There was no reason for him to be in his room.

No reason for him to even be in the house. Or London. He would only slow things up if the servants had to walk around him to get things done. “I’m going to my club. We will depart when I return.”

“Yes, sir.” Macon cast a confused glance in his direction, but said nothing, and continued with his work.

Giles sprinted down the stairs, out the door, and headed to the mews to retrieve his horse. He felt as though he were being chased by demons. If he ran fast enough, and long enough, maybe the pain would not catch up with him.

The usual afternoon crowd sat in groups of twos and threes when he entered White’s. Giles took a quick glance around, but given his mood, he didn’t spot anyone he wished to speak with. He nodded at a few men as he made his way to a corner chair, close to the fireplace, and far away from the nearest member.

Drink in hand, and no longer able to push his thoughts from his mind, he rested his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes. And immediately popped them open. All he could see was Suzanna throwing her arms around Lord Pemberton, smiling and exclaiming he’d made her the happiest woman in London.

He had no doubt she’d been responding to the expected proposal.

Perhaps having a title in front of her name had not only been her parents’ idea, after all. She probably fed him that story to not make herself appear lofty. How could he have misjudged her? Of course, his friends had tried to warn him, but he hadn’t believed them. Well, he’d gone there with the intention of finding out how Suzanna felt about the proposal. His eyes had told him what he needed to know.

He checked his timepiece every so often, and when no one appeared whom he wished to speak with, he rose and gulped the last of his brandy. He would pen notes to Bedford, Cam, and Hawk later. For now, all he wanted was to retire to his country estate and lick his wounds.

The evening had turned cool and rainy, a perfect complement to his mood. He pulled up the collar of his jacket and rode Gallant slowly through the slippery streets. By the time he arrived home it was fully dark, and he was soaked to his skin.

“Mr. Templeton, I have packed everything we will need until the rest can be sent on. Will we be starting off tonight with this weather?” Macon met him at the door and helped him out of his wet outer clothing.

As much as he wanted to be as far away from London as he could get, it would be foolhardy and dangerous to travel in the dark with the roads growing more treacherous by the minute. “No. We will set off at first light. Please have a hot bath drawn. I will be in the library.”

Despite the dampness, no fire had been lit in the library. Giles poured a half glass of brandy and drank it while he watched the rain pour down, puddles forming throughout the garden.

He’d lost the wager.

Suzanna would marry Lord Pemberton, give birth to little Pembertons, and have the life her parents—or perhaps she—wanted. A title, consequence, and a solid place among the ton. Had he been born first, instead of his brother, Giles could have been the man who received hugs in the garden in response to his proposal.

It would have been him promising to love, honor, and cherish Miss Suzanna Blake while they stood before the vicar. He tried to convince himself that if he was not good enough for her without a title, he was better off without her.