“I’m afraid I’ve spent far too much time at the Rake Street gaming hell,” Lord Wellington had said in a low whisper, as if someone were hiding within the walls of his home to listen in on his conversations. Apparently, he had been caught exiting the premises with a woman who was not his wife on his arm, which sent him into hiding for the past two months as he waited for the rumors to die down.
Aaron had not visited the Rake Street gaming hell, but he had heard about it. It was no wonder the place was as busy as it was. Gentlemen had no other place to go to get away from the women who otherwise complicated their lives. Which was why the club was so important.
He had returned from Lord Wellington’s home in plenty of time to wash and dress for the evening. Yet his cook, Mrs. Pentham had not only burned his dinner but her hand as well. That meant sending for the doctor and eating cold meats.
Stretching the taut muscles in his neck and shoulder, Aaron vowed that the miserable streak of bad luck would end this night. From what he had gathered in his short time in Chatsworth, Lord Walcott was one of the most respected men in all the village. His reach was far, which meant the invitation Aaron had received would put him in touch with other prominent men in the area, thus securing the investments to purchase the building that housed the theater.
Sighing, Aaron recalled his recent visit to the theater, and the unpleasantness he had endured at the tongue of Miss Louisa. Why would a headmistress allow one of her students to be so impertinent? Was that not part of the girl’s instruction at the school—how to be respectful of those deserving of it? Apparently not.
His father had once told him of such schools for young women. They were meant to teach their students practical skills. Rumors had reached Aaron’s ears that those who attended Mrs. Rutley’s School for Young Women learned about subjects expected of their male counterparts, but he had his doubts. Surely, they would not waste time on philosophy or, God forbid, the sciences.
It was not as if Aaron did not like women, for he did. There were some he respected—his mother, for example, who had looked after him and doted on him daily. How many times had she told him his handsome looks would get him far in this world? Would catch the eye of every lady, of every woman, he encountered? Too many times to count.
She worked to make everything in their home perfect in every way. He and his sister wanted for nothing, and that was because of their mother. Oh, their father had provided for his family financially, but his mother had been the one who ran their household and shared her love with her children. Just thinking of her made Aaron realize how much he missed her. He would pay a visit to where she currently lived in Wales, once the gentlemen’s club was completed.
Despite how much he respected his mother, however, or how much he admired his sister, so many contemporary women made every attempt to rise above themselves. They had their place in society and the running of the home. But if women were learning about science, soon they would want to discuss—and possibly take over—business as well.
If that happened, all mankind would be doomed. That was one fact about which his father had been adamant. And this had been confirmed when he had overheard too many gentlemen complain about how their wives nearly bankrupted them with their excessive spending. If they could not maintain a household properly, how could they ever be successful in matters of business? Why, such nonsense would likely bankrupt the entire country in a matter of months!
Regardless, Aaron hoped to one day find a woman worthy of marrying him, one who was intelligent but knew her place and had the ability to take care of his household. Yet finding her seemed impossible. Especially after witnessing Miss Louisa’s actions.
A headstrong woman was nothing but trouble, and he pitied the man who fell for her charms.
Once he arrived at Foxly Manor, the estate belonging to Lord Walcott, Aaron hurried inside. After the butler took his coat and hat, he made his way to the opulent ballroom where the sounds of a cello and a violin greeted him. To his surprise, there looked to be nearly thirty or so people in attendance, although most were far older than he.
“Sir Aaron?”
Aaron turned as a silver-haired man approached, his smile welcoming.
“Henry Walcott,” the man said. “I’m so pleased you accepted my invitation.”
Shaking the hand the earl offered, Aaron said, “Thank you for including me. I apologize for my tardiness.”
“There are worse crimes committed,” Lord Walcott said with a laugh. “So, how do you find our little village?”
“I like it very much,” Aaron replied and went on to regale all its wonderful qualities, which were few. A passing footman allowed him to draw his compliments to a close. “Which led me to hear of Mr. Barker’s plight,” he concluded as he took a glass of wine from the proffered tray. “It then occurred to me. Why not convert the old building into something few villages of this size enjoy—a gentlemen’s club? A place where distinguished men may go to relax without the pressures that come with entertaining our female counterparts. Now I’m on the hunt for investors and would like to offer you the opportunity to be among the first.”
Lord Walcott took a sip of his wine. “I must agree that many gentlemen enjoy such establishments.” This made Aaron smile. Until the earl continued, “I, however, am not one of them. But I do wish you luck in your endeavor, Kirkwood.” He looked past Aaron and smiled. “Well, look who we have here. Mrs. Rutley, please, join us.”
Aaron frowned as the woman from the theater walked up to them. Her gown was green with yellow flowers, and gray sprinkled her otherwise brown hair. She was a lovely woman despite her advanced years.
“Thank you for having us,” she said with a polite nod.
“May I present Sir Aaron Kirkwood,” Lord Walcott said. “Sir Aaron, Mrs. Agnes Rutley.”
Mrs. Rutley gave him a polite smile. “It’s good to see you again, Sir Aaron.”
Aaron forced a smile. He did not have time to waste speaking with a headmistress of a woman’s school. “You, as well, Mrs. Rutley.”
Why would the earl invite this woman to a party? Granted, a man of title would be acquainted with a headmistress, but inviting her to a gathering meant for the titled folk was another matter altogether.
“Well, I’ll leave the two of you to speak,” he said, giving a small bow. Mrs. Rutley seemed pleasant enough, but he had more important matters with which to take up his time. He was here to find investors, not make friends.
“Before you go,” Lord Walcott said. “The thin man with the crimson coat there beside the wall. That is Nathaniel, Lord Talbot. He may be someone interested in your endeavor.”
Thanking him, Aaron gave a quick nod and hurried away. “I beg your pardon. Lord Talbot? I am Sir Aaron Kirkwood.”
“Ah, the knight I’ve heard so much about,” the gentleman said, the lines on his face deepening with his smile. “What a treat to have you with us this evening.”