~~~~
The entry was duly recorded in White's Betting Book: The Earl of Brookhampton wagers Mr. Tom Audlett fifty guineas that Lord Gareth de Montforte will return to Blackheath Castle within a fortnight.
"What's going to happen to us, now that he's abandoned us for a woman?"
"We'll just have to make her an honorary Den member."
"Oh, yes, right. I can just see her getting drunk with us and vandalizing statues. I can tell you right now, this marriage isn't going to last."
"I sure hope it doesn't; I mean, what the devil are we going to do without Gareth?"
"I give him a week," Cokeham said, approaching the green baize table where his friends were just sitting down to a game of faro. He flipped his coattails back and took a seat near Perry, his eyes gleaming. "In fact, Perry, I'll up your bet to seventy guineas!"
"Done."
"A week?" Audlett stood up, his chair crashing backward. "The devil take it, I'll go you a hundred that he goes running back to Blackheath in three days!"
"One hundred and twenty!"
"One hundred and fifty!"
A servant arrived with a fresh bottle of wine, his expression perfectly blank at the frenzied betting going on around him while he topped up each man's glass. As he glided innocuously away, Hugh leaned across the table and said heatedly, "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Perry."
"Whatever for?"
"Leaving poor Gareth there to fend for himself, and with a woman and babe besides!"
"My bleeding heart."
"What a heartless bastard you are!"
"Why thank you, Hugh. I shall take that as the highest of compliments." Perry flicked open his snuff box and took a pinch. "I didn't see the rest of you sticking by his side."
"No, we went off so he could have a proper wedding night."
"Ha!" Cokeham said, "he'll get no proper wedding night with her. I couldn't believe what she did to him in that church, leaving her ring on like that! The bloody cheek of her!"
"Really, Jonathan, I hardly think it was intentional," Perry drawled. "And I'll tell you another thing. Despite appearances, Gareth's bride has more spunk than any of us gave her credit for. She's quite striking when she's angry."
"How do you know?"
"You forget — I stuck around after you all fled." Mirth danced in Perry's gray eyes. "Gareth's lovely little wife is no dull stick at all."
"Well, thank God for that!"
"Aye, after the last twenty-four hours, I just couldn't see what Charles saw in the wench that the rest of us have not."
"Happiness, probably," Perry remarked acidly.
"Happiness?! Let's hope she doesn't drag Gareth down in the dumps with her!"
Cokeham leaned forward. "Care to know what I think?"
"Not particularly."
"I think Gareth married too far beneath himself. He should've married money. Lots of it. How else is he going to survive in this world?"
Audlett nodded sagely. "Yes, he could've had his pick of the heiresses — Lady Eastleigh, Miss Beatrice Smith-Morgan... even Louisa Bellington, who's got to be the richest baggage in England, was panting after him like a bitch in heat. She would've married him in an instant if he'd only asked her —"
"Yes ... funny, isn't it?" Perry murmured with a dramatic sigh. "To hell with money or a title, all it takes is charm and a handsome face and the best doors in England open to you."
"Not to mention the prettiest thighs," Cokeham muttered, a little enviously.
Perry shot him a sideways glance. "I take it none have been open to you lately, old boy?"
Cokeham spluttered and cursed. "Plague take you, Perry!"
Perry merely grinned and sipped his wine.
"I say, has anyone seen Chilcot?"
"Not since we parted outside the church," Audlett muttered. He raised his voice to imitate Chilcot's high-pitched nasal whine. "Said he was exhausted and had to get his beauty sleep."
Laughter erupted around the table.
"Exhausted? As though the rest of us aren't!"
"To hell with Chilcot," Hugh mused, his face tight with concern as his fingertip idly traced the edge of one of the painted cards that decorated the table's green baize. "What I worry about is how Gareth's going to take care of them. A young wife, that little baby, no money coming in and no place to go ..."
Immediately, the mood sobered, for their friend was in trouble, and all of them knew it.
"The duke's got enough blunt to buy up half of England," Audlett proclaimed. "Gareth's got nothing to worry about."
"Except that Gareth's got too much pride to go running back to his big brother, especially after the row he had with him yesterday," Hugh countered worriedly. "He'll have to get money from some other source."
"How?" Cokeham asked.
"He's got credit."
"And us."
Perry, staring into his wine glass, shook his head. "Gareth's credit is about as bad as his ability to pay his debts. The duke shut him off, you know. Stopped paying his bills."
"Bloody hell!"
"Well, then, we can help him. We're his friends!"
"Right," Perry said, sarcastically. "Most of us are no better off than he."
"God's blood, Perry, what do you think he'll do, then?"
Perry's lips curved in a faint smile. "Perhaps he'll have to — God forbid — work for a living?"
"Gareth? Work? Preposterous!"
"How else are they going to eat? It's either that or beg, borrow, and steal," Perry mused. "And, frankly, I think our friend has too much honor to resort to the latter. Now — shall we get on with our game? I dare say I am feeling lucky this evening."