Page 38 of The Dandy Lyon

Marcus sipped the brandy, his brows rising in surprise. “Indeed, my lord. This is excellent.” He’d tasted some of the most expensive cognacs in his life, and this had to rank with the best. “You’ll enjoy this for some time to come.”

“As will you, Dandridge.” The earl plucked a bottle from the table and handed it to Marcus. “A little Christmas gift—and peace offering.”

Taking the bottle, Marcus noted the label. Cognac Napoleon, 1811. A spectacular brandy. “Thank you, my lord. Although I’m not aware that a peace offering is needed.” He’d had no altercations with Lord Longford since the wedding, none in fact since the night of the incident in the alleyway. “We have been on amicable terms since October.”

“Yes, well, the apology is for my behavior before that. The more I thought about your actions that night, the more I have come to believe that I misjudged you.” The earl pursed his lips—Joanna had told him her brother hated nothing more than to be wrong—but took a sip of his brandy and continued. “You very likely saved my life that night, Dandridge. Bartlow’s knife would surely have found my back. I was all but draped over Joanna—he couldn’t help but stab me. But you stepped in and he found you instead.” Longford looked him in the eyes. “That was bravely done. And honorable as well, when you consider that had you let the man kill me, you’d have removed the one impediment to your marriage with my sister.”

Marcus shrugged. The thought had crossed his mind even as he’d leaped between Bartlow and the earl. Even in that moment, he couldn’t allow Joanna to be deprived of a family member she loved. “I doubt she’d have agreed to marry the man who’d stood idly by while her brother was murdered before her eyes.”

“At that moment in time, Dandridge, I wouldn’t have given you odds on that.” Longford chuckled. “I’d just forbidden her to marry you once more and had tried to lock her up to boot. She might, in fact, have cheered Bartlow on.”

“I have yet to thank you for your assistance with that matter, my lord.” Marcus had awakened in the earl’s guest room to discover that the last sound he’d heard had been Bartlow’s brains splatter against the stone wall. Without missing a beat, Lord Longford had called the constable and explained what had taken place with such vigor and authority that Bartlow’s demise was ruled “death by misadventure” immediately. “You could have given the constable a different story and had me arrested for murder, thus removing the thorn in your side permanently.”

Longford grinned at him. “The thought crossed my mind, however your bravery and the fact that my sister surely would never have forgiven me had I done such a thing, made me see things in a different light. So I hope we may consider this to be our treaty to formally end all hostilities between us. I have to say, I have never seen my sister look so happy, therefore I will be the first to extend the olive branch.” The earl offered his hand. “Welcome to the family.”

Stunned, Marcus paused, then grasped the hand and shook it. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Well, at last I find you together looking friendly for a change.” The study door had opened admitting Joanna, smiling broadly, decked out in a deep-crimson velvet gown she’d had made for this special day—their first Christmas together. “Six months ago you were at each other’s throats.”

“Quite a lot has changed in that six months, my dear.” Marcus went to her and kissed her cheek before tucking her arm in the crook of his elbow. He never seemed to be able to keep from touching his wife, no matter where they were. Which had made for some very uncomfortable moments on Sunday mornings in church. “Not the least is that your brother and I have buried the hatchet—and not in each other’s skulls.”

“It’s about time you did, Marcus.” She leaned against him and sighed. “I’ve gotten quite tired of walking on eggshells whenever the two of you are in the same room.” She glanced up at Marcus, a mischievous look on her face. “Shall we let Geoffrey in on our secret?”

Summoning his best neutral expression, Marcus nodded. Joanna had told him this morning and he was still reeling from the news. “That is your decision to make, my dear.”

Beaming, she turned to her brother. “Sometime around the middle of July, little Geoffrey will have a new cousin to play with.”

Lord Longford’s brows shot up, then down into a scowl. “July would mean you—”

“Most likely got caught right after the wedding, brother.” Joanna went to him, rose up on tiptoes, and planted a kiss on his cheek. “If you truly wish to reconcile with Marcus, you must agree to accept that we did not anticipate the wedding night.” She lowered her heels to the floor and scowled back. “Had we done so, it would have had to be that one day I went to the Dandy, because I was under your watchful eye before that day, and Marcus was in no condition to do anything untoward after that night. Besides,” she smiled triumphantly, “if that were the case, the child would be expected in June not July.”

That was only the truth, thank God.

Joanna gripped her brother’s hand. “Let it go, Geoffrey. Be happy for me. For us.”

“And so I shall, my dear sister.” He took her hand and kissed it. “May I be the first to wish you congratulations and the best of health in the coming year.”

“You may.” She pecked him on the cheek again, gave Marcus a more wifely kiss on the mouth, and turned for the door. “Now do come, the both of you. They are about to put out the Snapdragon!” Eyes snapping with excitement, Joanna hurried out the door, taking all the life from the room.

“I see I must go and keep my wife from setting herself and our child ablaze.” Marcus could think of nothing else save Joanna’s welfare ever since she’d told him there was going to be a child. “However, I have a gift of my own to bestow on you, my lord, before I go rescue my wife.” He reached into his interior coat pocket and withdrew a thick bunch of folded foolscap.

“If that’s the deed to my properties, the lawyers sent them around to me over a year ago.” Longford looked at him curiously. “Are you trying to lay the ghost?”

“Not exactly, my lord, although this is in fact a deed. But it’s to my property, The Dandy.” He held out the papers. “I’m giving it to you.”

“What?” The earl’s shocked expression wasn’t what Marcus expected. “Why?”

“Because a long time ago I vowed to you I’d dispose of all my gaming establishments, become a respectable gentleman, if you’d allow me to marry Joanna.” He held out the deed, urging the earl to take it. “I have been true to my word. The two other gaming hells have been sold.” And at an exceptional price. He only hoped the cove who’d bought them had the good sense not to try to run them himself. All money and no sense were a bad combination in this business. “The Dandy, however, I’ve found myself reluctant to part with for purely sentimental reasons.”

“I’d never have pegged you for the sentimental type, Dandridge.”

“Your sister’s influence, I’m afraid.” Marcus shook his head. How else could he explain the little voice inside his head urging him to keep The Dandy? “At least this way, I’ll feel that it’s still in the family.”

“Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I have no need for a gentlemen’s club.” Longford tossed down the last swallow of the Napoleon. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about running it. And this truly isn’t necessary, old chap. I see no reason to hold you to that promise. I didn’t actually take you up on the proposition at the time.”

“But I don’t wish to invest the time it would take to manage it now that I plan to be residing in Middlesex for most of the year. I need to learn how to manage the estate and I can’t do that and live in London.” Neither would he drag Joanna back and forth incessantly and he damn sure wouldn’t leave her at Heart’s Haven by herself. “You, however, have managed your estate for years. You could move to London and take over The Dandy with very little fuss. It’s really an excellent investment.”

“But not one that would tempt me to remove to London full time.” Lord Longford shook his head. “A little of city living goes a long way when you’re used to the peace and quiet of the country.” He cocked his head. “Why not engage a manager for the club? Find a man you trust, one who you can teach the business to if necessary, and install him in London as your steward? Then you can keep an eye on things but won’t need to be in London to run the club.”