“Yes, Your Grace.” Maxwell nodded and left the room, the sudden silence ringing in Rowan’s ears.
He looked down at the papers that were strewn across his desk, and quickly added several signatures to them mindlessly, before jogging down the stairs to the foyer. A maid stood dutifully with his coat and hat in hand.
“Thank you.” He smiled as he took them, and she bobbed a low curtsy.
He headed out the door, closing it behind him and shrugging his coat on.
He and Maxwell made their way to the bustling afternoon streets of London, and he gazed out the window at the passing people, who were giggling or running down the sidewalk to meet people in stores. He sat back, thinking of Alice.
When I saw her here last, she was wearing a maid’s dress. She looked so plain that I hardly recognized her. How could I have not questioned her condition at home at that moment? I feel foolish now, looking back on all the things I missed about her that were so obvious from the start.
“We are here, Your Grace,” Maxwell murmured, opening the door of the carriage for Rowan.
Rowan nodded and stepped out of the carriage, and into Cribb’s, where the old man himself stood once more, a shining grin across his face.
“Your Grace! It is wonderful to see you again! You have been a talking point among the gentlemen in there, I hope you know.” Mr. Cribb chuckled, shuffling down the hall to the sitting room.
“All bad things, I am sure,” Rowan muttered.
“Mostly involving you and the Season’s Diamond. Is it true?—”
“I apologize, Sir, but I am really here on business.”
Rowan was beginning to question if the slip of his tongue with Richard was turning out to be a burden. He had intended to help Alice out of her precarious situation, but the questions of his courtship were wearing him down.
“Of course, my apologies. Enjoy your time, Your Grace.” Mr. Cribb bowed, opening the door to the stifling sitting room.
As soon as Rowan stepped foot inside, all eyes were on him. He scanned the room for a single smiling face, and instead of finding that, his eyes landed on Richard Snow.
The man sat back in a red velvet wingback chair, watching him like a vulture. His dirty blonde hair hung in strands across his forehead, and his greyish-blue eyes had a danger to them that Rowan had not noticed before. The differences between Richard and his sister were undeniable now.
He never got a proper look at him when he had been to Mowbray House, but the difference was obvious. While Alice’s smile was bright and inviting, Richard’s was secretive, as though he was hiding his true self and was a whole lot more menacing than he let on. While Alice sparkled, Richard was dark and grim.
Rowan walked over, standing straighter, and cocked his head to the side as he surveyed the man’s demeanor.
“Your Grace,” Richard said curtly, not bothering to stand up from his slump in the chair.
He looked tired, or drunk, or both. Rowan could not determine what exactly made him look as disheveled as he did.
“Snow,” Rowan replied.
He had not realized how difficult it would be to control his manners around the man. He felt anger bubbling in his chest, knowing that he went about his days treating Alice like a servant while presenting himself to the world like a commonplace gentleman of London.
“I am surprised you came back here.” Richard suddenly smiled, as if Rowan had fallen into his little game.
“I could say so for yourself, considering that this club is for gentlemen.” Rowan raised his eyebrows, and Richard pushed himself out of his chair, its wooden feet scraping the floor.
Rowan watched with curiosity as the man walked up to him, looking up at him and attempting to be menacing. He was unsure of what he was supposed to do in this situation, as he looked down at the blonde man who was nearly a head shorter than him. Everyone was staring at him, and he did not want to make the first move to instigate a fight. He was better than that.
Instead, he decided to just wait out Richard’s bluff, which did not take long.
The man huffed out an aggravated breath and slammed into Rowan’s shoulder as he stormed past him, out of the club.
“Your Grace, I noticed your tension with the Baron Mowbray. He does not take things very well in here. You must have seriously angered the man for him to storm out like that. My name is Conrad Reynolds. I wanted to introduce myself.”
Huh, I did not have to look for the man who was not paying his rent. His son just unknowingly brought him to me. My luck has been through the roof lately.
“Pleasure,” Rowan replied quietly, watching everyone go back to their usual chatter, occasionally sending looks his way. He scanned the room for another ginger man, the father to the son who stood before him. “Are not you a bit young to be in here?”
