“Then you have perceived much as I do, Cousin,” Algernon said and swigged back the last of his brandy. “I say, I think I am off to find another one of these,” he said, tapping the empty glass with a forefinger before turning to leave Hunter alone.
Hunter smiled as he watched his cousin depart, lumbering along, his mighty frame swaying a little under the influence of alcohol. Algernon Rochester was not only Hunter’s cousin but the closest of friends that Hunter could have hoped for in this world. And, as such, Hunter would see to it that the gentle giant would not sit down at the tables again that evening, however much he sought to regain his losses.
“Good evening, Lord Addison.” Hunter turned sharply to see none other than Kent Fitzgerald standing at his side.
“Good evening, Mr Fitzgerald,” Hunter said, trying to keep the tone of annoyance from his voice.
Kent Fitzgerald was a curious sort of a man. He was very plain, quite nondescript, and irritatingly obsequious in his manner.
He had an approach which was both insecure and pompous all at once; the approach of a man who was not comfortable with himself but sought, as Hunter had already decided, to cover up for it. He was both in awe and resentful at the same time, a condition which Hunter had often perceived within the middle classes.
“Have you had much luck at the tables this evening, My Lord?”
“I have been greatly lucky, although I cannot say the same for my dear cousin, I am afraid.” Hunter smiled, despite wishing to extricate himself from such dreadful company immediately.
He looked a little more closely at Kent Fitzgerald as he waited for him to speak. The man gave him a curious feeling of distrust. It was not that Hunter thought him powerful in any way, nor did he suspect he had the means by which to do Hunter any harm at all. But there was something in the dull brown eyes and plain expression which gave Hunter the idea that the man would likely be one of the most underhand people he could imagine.
Hunter had the strangest idea that a man like that, a plain man with little in his character to recommend him to anybody, could be somehow dangerous. Very dangerous indeed.
“I myself have been suffering from curiously poor luck this evening, Lord Addison. I have not been able to win a single hand from the moment I arrived here. So much so, in fact, that I have decided to turn to conversation, instead of poker, for my amusement.” And there it was again, that strange pomposity which overtook the man whenever his inferiority diminished for a moment.
“Well, I would say that it seems the most sensible position to take. One knows when one’s luck is not running in the right direction, and it is surely a very fine thing to decide to call a halt to it.” Hunter laughed a little uneasily.
“Yes, I suppose that is true of life also.”
“Indeed?” Hunter said, wondering why the man had chosen such a curious turn in the conversation.
“There is so much in life which one assumes is assured when it is not. I suppose it comes to us all at some stage when there is something we assume will happen in one way and yet, in the end, it happens in quite another altogether.”
Hunter could not begin to imagine what Kent Fitzgerald was talking about, but what he did know for certain was that the man spoke with purpose. He had some little idea which he wished to impress upon the Earl of Addison, without a doubt, and it was personal, whatever it was. For an awful moment, Hunter thought that the man was referring to his own failed engagement to Lady Felicity Morgan, or Felicity Barton as she now was. Was he really seeking to upend him by confronting him, albeit indirectly, with such a recent source of humiliation and regret? Surely not.
“I daresay that is true, but I must admit to being a little unsure of your meaning, Mr Fitzgerald,” Hunter said a little shortly.
“I suppose really I was thinking of my own circumstances, Lord Addison,” he began, and Hunter could see a curious delight in the man’s face.
It was almost as if he had managed to steer the conversation exactly as he would have wanted it and, furthermore, that he had managed to do just so without Hunter’s perception of it all. And yet, at the same time, Hunter felt the curious sensation that all was not well. Despite the fact that this man was claiming to be discussing his own circumstances, there was still something very personal about it all, something which Hunter felt absolutely certain pertained to him. There was something utterly pernicious about this man.
“Indeed?” Hunter said, not wanting to ask the man outright about his circumstances, not wanting to give him an inch.
“If I could perhaps provide an example,” he went on, the corners of his mouth twitching a little as if he could not quite decide upon a smile or a sneer. “As you are likely aware, Sir, I have lately had the good fortune to discover that I am soon to inherit Tarlton Manor.”
“Yes, I had heard something of it.” Hunter knew that his own voice was now far from friendly, but it did not seem to bother his companion. It was almost as if he expected it.
“And as pleased as I was, I did not particularly look forward to the idea of turning out my relations. Of course, there are those who would say that I need not turn out my relations, after all, being the master of the house, for I could do just as I pleased.” He paused for dramatic effect, clearly enjoying his description of himself as the master. “But of course, as I am sure you are perfectly well aware, such an inheritance comes with the responsibility of providing an heir for the future. A man looking towards marriage cannot possibly maintain his homeless relations. It is not expected, and I could not have supported such a thing.”
“Quite so,” Hunter said in the flattest tone imaginable.
“And then as if by providence, common sense steps in to seek to solve two problems at once.” He smiled, and Hunter gathered that the man was building up to his grand finale.
“Has it, indeed?”
“I suppose the problems are not entirely solved yet, for it would seem that I must await an answer before I can declare it to be so.”
“In truth, I am afraid that I do not understand.”
“The idea came to me that it would be a very simple thing for me to propose marriage to my second cousin. That solves the problem of my heir, not to mention the lady’s own problem of financial security. Of course, ladies being ladies, I am destined to wait.” He gave a short laugh and studied Hunter closely. It was clear that he was waiting for a reaction of sorts and Hunter, despite a supreme effort, felt sure that he had, with his countenance alone, provided just the reaction that the nondescript weasel of a man was waiting for. “I think they do like to keep us on a piece of string for a while, do they not?”
“Perhaps they do, Mr Fitzgerald.” Hunter gave a tight smile. “Now, if you would excuse me, I ought really to attend to my cousin.”