Chapter 1
Forrester Timothy Appleton, recently elevated to Viscount Appleton, looked up at his closest friend through bleary eyes.
“What the devil’s so bloody important that you summoned me . . .” Sir Elvin drew a deep breath, “before noon on a Sunday morning?”
“You must prevent me from blowing my brains out.” Appleton eyed the pistol on the table beside the bed from which he had not yet extracted himself.
Elvin’s gaze shifted from the pearl-handled pistol to his disheveled friend. “Why, pray tell, would you be wanting to kill yourself?”
“Because ever since the death of my brother, I’ve shown myself to be unworthy of his title, and now I’ve ruined my family.”
“How could you possibly have ruined your family?”
Appleton’s eyes watered. “Quite easily. Last night at Mrs. Starr’s I gambled away every farthing to my name . . .” His voice splintered as if he were about to break down like a woman. “I even wagered and lost this house. Killing myself would be less painful than knowing I’ve failed my sisters.”
Sir Elvin said not a word, but calmly crossed the chamber to the bedside table. He removed the pistol, then collapsed into a chair facing his friend’s bed, shaking his head in a most forlorn fashion. “Colossal catastrophe. Bloody colossal.”
Neither man spoke for a moment. Appleton felt even worse. By requesting Elvin’s presence here this morning, he’d hoped for a glimmer of encouragement.
Finally his friend spoke. “And you’ve got three more sisters to launch? And dower. Have you nothing left?”
Not the encouraging words he’d hoped to hear. Appleton slowly shook his head.
“I don’t understand. You enjoy gaming as much as the next fellow, but you’ve never lost your head before—even after you inherited and had rather plump pockets. It ain’t your personality to be totally without reason.”
“It must have been the drink.”
“It’s not as if you can’t hold your spirits. Why, you’ve always been able to remain upright when the rest of us were sprawled under the table.”
“I don’t know what came over me last night. I must have been a pathetic toss pot. Got no memory of it. I remember sitting down at Ellie’s table. . .”
Elvin wiggled his brows. “Ellie’s a fetching little thing.”
Appleton nodded. “The next thing I remember is waking up here when Bertram brought me a message.” He drew a deep breath. “You will never guess who the message was from.”
His face pensive, Sir Elvin raised a brow.
“Penguin.”
“What did that blighter Henry Wolf want from you?”
“It seems he’s in possession of my IOUs.” Appleton shook his head in a most forlorn fashion. “That was how I learned of my ruin.”
Sir Elvin’s brows scrunched together. “Are you sure about the house? You lost it, too?”
Appleton could retch at the thought, but there was nothing left to empty. “According to Penguin’s note.”
“I should have been there.” Sir Elvin frowned. “Fact is, I promised my sister I’d accompany her to one of those beastly musicals last night. So sorry, old fellow. I feel like I’ve let you down.”
A light tap sounded at the chamber door, and the Appleton butler stepped into the room. “A Mr. Wolf to see you, my lord.”
The two friends exchanged distasteful glances. “Have him wait in the library, then send Digby up to make me presentable.”
“He’s probably here to gloat over your misfortune. He’s always hated all of us—you, George, Blanks, me and my twin—because we had bonds of friendship, and he had no friends whatsoever.”
“Nothing’s changed in that respect. Even with all his money, Penguin couldn’t buy a friend.” Appleton winced as he rose from the bed. “He’s got even more reason to hate me.”
Sir Elvin’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“I gave him the cut direct.”
“When was this? Why haven’t I heard about it?”
“It happened in London. At Almack’s. He’d spent the better part of the night watching Annie, and when he walked toward me and my sisters, I knew he meant to ask for an introduction.”
“Course you couldn’t introduce your sister to a man like Wolf!”
“Exactly. That’s why I had to give him the cut direct. Turned my back to him.”
“Good for you! I wouldn’t let him within ten feet of my sisters. Not after that business in Windsor.”
* * *
A clean shave, freshly starched cravat, and finely tailored clothing could do little to compensate for Appleton’s bloodshot eyes, throbbing head, or his oppressive melancholy as he and Sir Elvin strode into the walnut-paneled library half an hour later. The emerald velvet draperies had been opened to reveal a day as gloomy as he felt.
When Henry Wolf rose to greet him, Appleton would have cast up the contents of his stomach—had he not already done so these past several hours until not a drop remained.
Wolf’s thick black mane and caterpillar eyebrows contrasting with pasty white skin accounted for the nickname Penguin. Appleton’s good manners had prevented him from actually addressing the fellow in such a disparaging way. Still, there was no love lost between the two.
Though Appleton prided himself on his courtliness, it was impossible for him to be civil to Henry Wolf now. Appleton had only to recall how the foul creature had ruthlessly stolen the innocence of a young Windsor maiden when they were Etonians.
The Wolf family fortune had insulated him from any penalties for his wrongdoings, but Appleton and his friends had long memories, a disgust of abusing maidens—and a disdain for evading justice.
Appleton crossed the small chamber and came face to face with the visitor, who was the same height as he. “You wished to see me?”
Wolf reached into his well-cut black jacket and withdrew a handful of IOUs from Mrs. Starr’s. “Yes. I purchased these from the proprietress of Bath’s finest gaming establishment. I believe one of them is for the ownership of the very house in which we now stand.” His malevolent pale green eyes repulsed Appleton.
How in the devil was Appleton to get these back when he’d lost everything? Had Wolf come here solely to take pleasure in his misery? “I did
