Regency Reputations by Carole Mortimer

Author:Carole Mortimer [Mortimer, Carole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2021-06-23T22:01:11+00:00

Chapter Two

Two days later—White’s Club, St James’s Street, London

‘Is it not time you threw in your cards and called it a night, Litchfield?’

‘You’d like it if I did so, wouldn’t you, Royston!’ The florid, sneering face of the man seated on the opposite side of the card table was slightly damp with perspiration in the dimmed candlelight of the smoky card room.

‘I have no opinion one way or the other if you should decide to lose the very shirt upon your back,’ Justin St Just, the Duke of Royston, drawled as he reclined back in his armchair, only the glittering intensity of his narrowed blue eyes revealing the utter contempt he felt for the other man. ‘I merely wish to bring this interminable game of cards to an end!’ He deeply regretted having accepted Litchfield’s challenge now, and knew he would not have done so if he had not been utterly bored and seeking any diversion to relieve him from it.

Ennui. It was an emotion all too familiar to him since the fighting against Napoleon had come to an end and the little Corsican had finally been incarcerated on St Helena once and for all, at which time Justin had considered it was safe to return to London, resign his commission, and take up his duties as Duke of Royston. A scant few weeks later he had realised his terrible mistake. Oh, he still had all of his friends here, the women willing to share his bed were as abundant, and his rooms in Mayfair were still as comfortable—he had long ago decided against taking up residence at Royston House, instead leaving his grandmother to continue living there alone after the death of Justin’s father, and the removal of Justin’s mother to the country—but all the time feeling as if there should be something...more to life.

Quite what that was, and how he was to find it, he had no idea. Which was the very reason he had spent the latter part of his evening engaged in a game of cards with a man he did not even like!

Lord Dryden Litchfield shot him a resentful glance. ‘They say you have the devil’s own luck, with both the cards and the ladies.’

‘Do they?’ Justin murmured mildly, well aware of the comments the ton made about him behind his back.

‘And I am starting to wonder if it is not luck at all, but—’

‘Have a care, Litchfield,’ Justin warned softly, none of his inner tension in evidence at the as-yet-unspoken insult, as he reached out an elegant hand to pick up his glass and take a leisurely sip of his brandy. With his fashionably overlong golden hair, and arrogantly handsome features, he resembled a fallen angel far more than he did the devil. But regardless of how angelic he looked, most, if not all, of the gentlemen of the ton also knew him to be an expert with both the usual choices of weapon for the duel Litchfield was spoiling for. ‘As I have said, the sooner we bring this card game to an end, the better.

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