Page 65 of A Devious Secret

Chapter Ten

Stephen sat at a corner table in White’s as he sipped his drink. He saw people glance his way, but they were smart enough not to approach him. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. He had engaged in fisticuffs before, but he had never been threatened before. Not that it would change his mind about spending time with Gemma. He intended to continue to show her favor, with the hopes she would agree to a courtship.

He placed his drink down and rubbed his sore jaw. How had he not seen the man approach him? Well, he already knew that answer. He had been so distracted by Gemma that he hadn’t even seen the threat coming.

Gemma was the most beautiful distraction, and he needed her desperately in his life. Just by being around her, it lifted his spirits, making him forget about the atrocities that he had experienced at the hands of the French. He had scars. They were marks on his skin that proved the battles he had won, and the one that he had lost. But these weren’t the only scars he had; some went below the skin.

As Stephen reached for his drink, he saw Haddington, dressed in an emerald green jacket, approach his table and he stifled the groan that was on his lips. What now?

Without bothering to ask for permission, Haddington pulled out a chair and sat down. “You look awful,” he said.

Stephen huffed. “Is there a purpose to this visit or do you intend to just insult me?”

“I was merely stating a fact.”

“Then do try to keep those facts to yourself.”

Haddington caught the eye of a passing servant and indicated that he wanted something to drink.

Botheration. It was evident that Haddington intended to invade his solace, at least long enough to finish his drink.

Haddington shifted his gaze to meet Stephen’s. “I heard what happened at the museum and I took the liberty of speaking to the constable on your behalf.”

“You didn’t have to trouble yourself.”

“It was no trouble at all,” Haddington said. “The man that assaulted you was charged and is in Newgate.”

“That is good news.”

“Although he was not forthcoming on who his boss is.”

Stephen took a sip of his drink, then said, “Lady Hawkinge seems to believe it could be her father or her brother-in-law, Lord Hawkinge.”

“I am not acquainted with Lord Hawkinge, but I have heard rumors of Lord Winsley’s disreputable behavior."

“Lord Winsley has already expressed his displeasure to his daughter about my lowly status amongst Society,” Stephen shared.

A server placed a drink in front of Haddington and asked, “Will there be anything else, my lord?”

“Not at this time,” Haddington said as he reached for his drink.

The server tipped his head before moving on to another table.

“How is your jaw?” Haddington asked.

Stephen didn’t want to admit that it still ached, at least not to a man as infuriating as Haddington. “It is of little consequence.”

Haddington sipped his drink. “You were wise to show restraint on your attacker since ladies were present.”

“Was that a compliment?”

“No, it was merely a comment.”

Hawthorne approached the table and sat down next to Haddington. “I am glad that you are here, Stephen,” he said. “It saves me a trip to the hovel that you call home.”

“It is hardly a hovel,” Stephen muttered.

“Furthermore, your butler appeared on death’s door the last time I came to call,” Hawthorne remarked.