“Very good, Hudson.”
James reached for the coffee Hudson had placed on his bedside table and took a hefty swallow.
He swung his feet over the side of the bed, then stood.
The room spun in circles going to the right while the floor seemed to move in the opposite direction.
“Bloody hell,” he growled, pressing a hand to his head. He dropped back down on the bed and waited for the room to stop spinning. When he thought he might have the movement under control, he rose to his feet and called for his valet.
He quickly washed and dressed, then went down the stairs and walked to his study. His longtime friends Richard Willoby, Earl of Candleton, and Vincent Scotshire, Viscount Pomeroy, sat in two of the three chairs clustered before the fire. When Danvers entered the room, Candleton and Pomeroy broke out in wide smiles.
“I say, Danvers. You look like hell.”
“That’s much improved from how I feel.”
“That bad, eh?”
“What happened last night?”
“How much of it do you remember?” Pomeroy asked.
“Very little before I returned home.”
“Oh, then you missed the good part,” Candleton said on a laugh.
Danvers poured himself a steaming cup of coffee. What he wanted was a glass of brandy, but the thought of drinking so early in the day turned his stomach. “What’s the good part?”
“You’ve become an engaged man, my friend,” Pomeroy announced.
“Bloody hell. I’d hoped that was only a nightmare.”
“You might think so when you hear who you got yourself engaged to,” Candleton answered.
James lifted his gaze. “Who?”
“Should we tell him?” Lord Pomeroy said. “Or keep him in suspense a while longer?”
“He looks like he’s in enough misery,” Candleton said on a chuckle. “I think we should—”
“Who!” James bellowed, and his head felt as if it might explode.
“Lady Petronella Westerly,” his friends said in unison.
“Who?” James tried to put a face to the name but couldn’t.
Candleton leaned forward in his chair. “Lady Petronella Westerly. The Earl of Shelton’s eldest daughter.”
“I’m afraid I can’t place her. Describe her to me.”
Candleton began the description. “About five foot seven. Twenty-three, maybe twenty-five years old.”
“So far so good,” James said. “Although I’d rather she were a little younger. Go on.”
“Fair hair, the color of year-old straw, dark eyes and a turned up nose,” he continued. “Are you sure you don’t know her?”
“I’m sure. Go on. What is it you’re avoiding?”
“She’s considered one of the wallflowers. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her dance.”
James frowned. There was something Candleton avoided telling him. “Go on, man. Tell me the worst of it.”
“She’s not exactly ugly…”
James closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure he was prepared for this. “But she’s not considered a beauty,” he finished for his friend.
“Definitely not a beauty,” Candleton said on a sigh. “And…”
“There’s more?”
Candleton nodded.
A weight fell to the pit of Danvers’ stomach. “Out with it.”
“She’s…um…she’s…”
“What!”
“Not thin,” Pomeroy finished.
“What does that mean? She’s not thin?”
“It means she more than likely outweighs you by a stone,” Candleton finished.
“What!”
“She’s quite round,” Pomeroy said to soften Candleton’s description.
Danvers rose to his feet and walked to the fireplace. He braced his hands on the mantel and dropped his head between his outstretched arms.
“How am I going to get out of this, my friends?”
“I don’t know,” Pomeroy offered. “I’m afraid you might not be able to.”
Candleton leaned forward and added to the conversation. “Rumor has it the chit hasn’t had a suitor in her five London Seasons. No doubt her father is more than pleased that he can finally get her off his hands and concentrate on marrying off her four other sisters.”
“There is no doubt that you compromised the lady good and proper,” Pomeroy added.
“Explain good and proper.”
“When we walked through the door, you and the lady were on the floor and you were lying on top of her.”
“Bloody hell!” James closed his eyes and let the damning truth sink into his brain. “Why don’t I remember this? What happened?”
“We think you were drugged.”
“Drugged? By whom?”
Candleton shook his head. “I don’t know. The lady says she didn’t drug you but—”
“Well, someone sure the hell did!” Danvers yelled, clutching his head.
“I know. But, she and her friends claim it wasn’t her.”
James raked his fingers through his hair. “What am I going to do?”
“If you want my opinion,” Pomeroy said, “you only have two choices.”
“What two choices?”
“You can either sail on the first ship out of England. My suggestion is to go to France or America and stay there for several years, until this entire scandal is dead and forgotten. Or…”
“Or?” James asked.
“You can marry the chit.”
Danvers stared at his two friends as if they’d both grown two heads. “I am not the sort to run and you know it.”
“Oh, and Danvers, you should stop by your aunt’s town house on your way to Lord Shelton’s. She was there, you know,” Pomeroy said.
“My aunt was there last night? She saw…”
“Everything,” Candleton confirmed. “And I daresay she wasn’t pleased.”
James raked his fingers through his hair and sat in the chair between his two friends. He placed his forearms on his thighs and stared at the carpet until the paisley pattern swam before his eyes.
“She asked us to give you a message,” Pomeroy said. “She said she wanted you to talk to her before you did anything irresponsible.”
Candleton and Pomeroy got to their feet. “We’d best be on our way, Danvers. You have a busy day ahead of you.”
He heard his friends walk across the room, then close the door behind them. And James was alone.
Alone with his nightmare.
~■~
James dressed in his finest dark blue frock coat, checked that his top hat was meticulously brushed and his lavender gloves spotless, then traveled to his aunt’s town house. Having to speak to Lord Shelton after he’d ruined the man’s daughter wouldn’t be half so difficult as having to face his aunt.
His aunt, the Lady Angela Morningside, dowager Countess of Newbury, was his sole remaining relative. She was his father’s sister and had been a mother to him after his own mother died when James was only twelve. She’d also been more of a father to him than his real father had been. He’d died five years after his wife.