Chapter Thirteen
July 15, 1818
Royce frowned as he was shown to the Earl of Hadleigh’s table in a private room at White’s in St. James Street. Never once had he set foot inside the lauded gentleman’s club. Once he’d made a name for himself as a physician, if he frequented a club, it was usually Boodle’s or occasionally Brook’s across the street from the other establishment. But those nights were few and far between. His clinic and ongoing study claimed his attention, more often than not.
And recently, there had been Isobel…
But when a missive from the earl had been sent over with a time and location for an impromptu meeting, he’d been intrigued enough to attend. Except, the timing was atrocious, for when the earl’s note arrived, it had come with a short scribble from Isobel asking him to meet her tonight at Viscount Radford’s ball, for socializing and other more… interesting endeavors.
Now that was delayed, he wasn’t best pleased with the prospect.
“Good evening, Hadleigh,” he greeted the earl, and then nodded at William as well as Finn. “This is a surprise. I was given to understand you rarely attended a club,” he said in a blanket statement to include the two men as he took the remaining chair opposite the earl’s position at a highly polished cherrywood table.
They both shrugged. Finn glanced at him with a somewhat annoyed gleam in his eye. “We don’t. However, we were summoned.”
“Ah, so then I’m not the only one.” That only gave him a modicum of comfort. Once more, he glanced at the earl. The man didn’t appear to be in a temper, nor did he seem overly distressed, though the signs of fatigue were evident on his family. And well they should be. His infant girl was nearly three months old. “What has occurred to bring you to this pass?”
“All in good time, Doctor.”
A waiter came over to their table. He deposited a carafe of brandy as well as a couple of bottles of wine and a collection of crystal glasses. With a nod to the earl, he departed on silent feet. The low hum of conversation as well as a smattering of masculine laughter wafted into the room from the bowels of the club.
Royce raised an eyebrow. This certainly didn’t bode well. “You must feel bothered about something if we’ve all been ordered here instead of having such a conversation in your drawing room.” He poured out a measure of port into the appropriate glass and drew it toward himself. “Why not just come out and say it? We are all busy men.”
Both William and Finn nodded their agreement.
“Indeed, Cousin. There are other ways I could choose to spend my time,” William said as a slight flush rose over his cravat.
Finn snorted. “We all know what that means.” He shifted in his Bath chair and wheeled the contraption closer to the table. “You’re still much a newlywed, Inspector.”
Good natured laughter went around the table.
“Yes, well. There is that.” William cleared his throat. “To say nothing of my mother’s health. Her time is near, I’m afraid, and I’d rather not spend too much time away from home.”
That reminder put a sober pall over the proceedings.
“I understand.” The earl poured out a measure of brandy into a snifter. His eyes reflected grief. “You have my condolences during this difficult time.”
“Thank you. Francesca is sitting with her during my absence.”
Royce couldn’t help himself. “And your sister? Is she taking turns relieving your vigil?” How desperate was he that he craved merely hearing her name spoken aloud?
“Isobel tries, of course, but she’s more sensitive about these things than the rest of us, so she’ll pop in and sit with Mother for about twenty minutes before she flees.” William shrugged. “I can’t say that I blame her, for she was young when our father died, or even when Hadleigh’s father gave up the ghost.”
Finn nodded. “Death, for her, is a relatively new experience.”
“Yes, and in recent days, her attendance on any of us has been anemic. I fear once Mother expires it will make her even more open to scandal. Grief often makes people do things they normally wouldn’t, and she’s always been more headstrong than I would like.”
Royce tamped the urge to grin. Headstrong? Isobel was more aptly described as a storm that blew in and shook everything up, leaving men in disarray once she left.
“Yes, and that is one of the reasons I’ve called you all here.” The earl rapped his knuckles upon the highly polished tabletop. When he had everyone’s attention, he sighed. “I have reason to suspect Isobel is sneaking out to meet a man for scandalous intent.”
Apparently, this wasn’t much of a revelation, for none of the men’s faces reflected shock or even surprise. Royce, to his credit, merely raised an eyebrow despite the fact that his pulse had accelerated. “Why do you assume this is true?” And if did think exactly that, why had the earl summoned him here?
Good God! Does he suspect I’m the man she’s meeting?
“There have been a few rumors circulating through the gossip mills that her attendance at various events has been abbreviated.”
“Meaning?” Royce asked in what he hoped was an even voice. He willed his fingers not to tighten overly much on his glass.