Rescued by the Viscount. Anne HerriesЧитать онлайн книгу.
anything to go by.’
‘So that’s why you’re in a bad mood this evening.’ Phipps smiled, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘I know how you feel, old chap. Pater had a go at me last time I went down to the estate—told me that he had bailed me out for the final time and it was up to me to find an heiress.’
‘Duty calls us both, it seems, but do not let it spoil our evening. Here come the others.’
Jack turned to greet the three young men with a smile and a handshake. They had all five of them served on Wellington’s staff and, though two of them had recently become engaged, they were all still single and could enjoy a night at the club drinking and playing cards.
‘How are you, Jack?’ Malcolm Seers asked, shaking his hand with a firm grip. ‘This is my last evening in town before I go down to the country. Please congratulate me, I have just become engaged to Miss Willow.’
‘Jane Willow?’ Jack asked and grinned, only half-mocking, because Miss Willow was one of the few young ladies in society that he actually liked. ‘So she accepted you at last? I thought it would not be long...’
‘She couldn’t make up her mind, but in the end I wore her down.’ Malcolm looked pleased with himself. ‘I’m the happiest man alive.’
‘Then I do congratulate you. I shall miss you when you disappear into the mists of matrimony, but I’m pleased for you.’
‘Oh, Jane wants to spend as much time as possible in town and you’re a favourite with her, Jack. We shall expect you to visit often when we are in the country.’
Jack murmured something appropriate, but knew it would not be the same once his friend married. Malcolm was a serious man and had been a dedicated soldier—and he would be as dedicated to his wife and family. They would still be friends, but things would be different...
Jack had a hunted feeling, as if he were being driven in a direction he did not wish to go. His grandfather had pushed him towards marriage and his friends were succumbing one by one to its lure—how long could Jack resist?
* * *
It was barely three in the morning when the friends parted at the club, three of them going to their homes and leaving only Jack and Phipps to consider where to go next.
‘The night is young,’ Jack murmured. ‘We should find a gambling hell and indulge ourselves for an hour or so.’
‘Not for me, old fellow,’ Phipps declined. ‘I’ve sworn off gambling for the next month at least, otherwise I shall be in hot water with my father. I’ll come home with you for a drink if you like, otherwise I think I’ll call a cab and go home.’
‘I think I’ll pay Lucy a visit,’ Jack decided and laughed. ‘I’ll see you at Markham’s affair tomorrow?’
‘Yes, certainly,’ his friend agreed. ‘You will be certain to meet Miss Langton there.’
‘Oh, I’ll leave her for you, my friend,’ Jack said and gave him a friendly punch in the arm.
They parted on the best of terms, Jack sauntering through the streets as if he had not a care in the world, while Phipps summoned a cab to take him home. A smile touched Jack’s sensuous mouth, for if he were not mistaken Phipps was a little the worse for wear, while he had drunk only enough to feel mildly pleased with the world. A visit to his mistress would round the evening off nicely and stop him falling into the melancholy that more serious thoughts of marriage looked likely to bring about.
* * *
He had been walking for perhaps five minutes when he heard the screams. Someone—a girl, he thought—was screaming for help. Jack’s chivalrous instincts were instantly aroused and he looked for the source of the sound, which seemed to come from the park across the street. Even as he hesitated, he saw a small figure run from that direction followed by two very drunken gentlemen, who lurched unsteadily in the youth’s wake.
‘Hounds, hounds to me,’ one of them called and made a loud noise that was supposed to sound like a hunting cry. ‘We’ll catch the little vixen yet!’
The second gentleman lurched after his comrade even as the diminutive figure bolted across the road. Jack moved like lightning, grabbing the figure and noting it was a young gentleman with delicate, rather female features, before pushing him behind him against the wall and turning to confront the pursuing gentlemen.
‘That’s the spirit, old fellow,’ the first cried gleefully. ‘Hand the vixen over and we’ll finish our business with her.’
‘And what might that be?’ Jack asked in a pleasant but cool voice. ‘I believe you are a little the worse for wear, sir. Pray let me recommend you to the comfort of your bed.’
‘Damn you, sir! What business is it of yours what I choose to do? Pray stand aside and let us at the—’
‘I asked you to take yourselves off nicely.’ Jack’s voice carried a hint of steel. ‘Now I’m telling you. Get off where you belong before I teach you some manners.’
‘Think you’ll have the bitch for yourself, do you?’ the man snarled. ‘I’ll show you!’ He threw a wild swing at Jack and found himself on the receiving end of a heavy punch. It floored him and he lay moaning on the ground. ‘She’s a whore and a thief,’ he muttered.
‘Come on, Patterson.’ His friend, in slightly steadier condition, bent down to help him rise. ‘You don’t know she’s a thief, even if we did see her climb out of that window.’
Patterson muttered something vile, but accepted his friend’s help. He glared at Jack, holding his friend’s arm as they reeled away.
‘Good riddance to her,’ he muttered and then laughed and pointed a finger. ‘Look at her go. She’s got away from us all.’
Glancing over his shoulder, Jack saw the diminutive figure disappearing round the corner. He was conscious of regret for he would have liked to discover whether the young person was a youth or the girl in disguise that the drunken gentlemen seemed to imagine. He had not even had a chance to discover if she—or he—was harmed, but at least he had prevented further harm.
He stood his ground, watching as the two men lurched off down the street in the opposite direction to the one the fugitive was heading. Only when he was certain that the young escapee must be out of sight did he resume his journey. He was vaguely aware that the knuckles of his right hand were bruised, but he dismissed that as a worthwhile consequence of his interference in what might have been a very unfortunate outcome for the young person.
Jack found that his mood had changed. He was amused by what he’d seen of the fugitive’s behaviour, catching the merest glimpse of an elfin face in the streetlights. If the inebriated men were to be believed, the young person was a thief and a whore—but the clothes the fugitive had been wearing were good quality, the property of a young gentleman of perhaps thirteen or so. That did not bring the words thief or whore to Jack’s mind, but something more innocent like a very young gentleman escaping from his home for a lark. Unless it had been a girl in borrowed clothing, which was an intriguing idea.
Jack arrived outside the small but exclusive house he had purchased for his mistress’s use. The windows were in darkness, as he might have supposed, had he given a thought to the hour. He considered climbing over the gate and going round to the back of the house; he could throw stones at the window and get Lucy to come down and let him in without waking the servants.
Suddenly, he realised that the desire to see his mistress had left him. He laughed ruefully and turned away just as a light came on in the hall upstairs. Hesitating, Jack was still wondering whether to call on Lucy just for a drink and a chat when the door opened and a gentleman came out.
He recognised the man as Lord Harding—a man he particularly disliked as a hardened gambler, and, if Jack were right, a particularly nasty cheat. He was the kind of man who fastened on young men just out on the town, introducing them to sleazy gambling hells and all kinds of dissolute activities.