Kieran Kramer - If You Give A Girl A Viscount

The ensuing silence enveloped him like a heavy cloak.

Charlie leaped from his chair, almost toppling it backward. “What the devil is going on here?” He stared at his friends. “What aren’t you saying?”

“Is there more?” Harry asked quietly.

Charlie looked into the fire, remembering that excruciatingly uncomfortable moment with his parents. “They also said”—his voice was a bit raspy at this point—“that buying a ruby and diamond pendant … for a wench who turned right around and absconded with it to America … was the last straw.”

The flames flickered higher, mocking him with their brightness.

Good God. Where had his head been?

Firmly in the ground, that’s where.

“My parents are right, aren’t they?” he said calmly. “They’re absolutely right.”

No one disagreed.

It had been the last straw.

He’d been a fool.

Looking round at his friends, he saw that no one excused his behavior, yet their gazes were sympathetic.

Slowly, Nicholas stood and joined Charlie at the hearth. “Well, then,” was all he said.

Charlie glared at him. It was better than showing his embarrassment. But of course his friends understood. They’d made fools of themselves, too, on occasion, and every one of them had had a devil of a time admitting it.

Harry gestured to Stephen, who generously refilled their glasses from a second bottle of fine brandy.

“Let’s raise a toast to your new adventure, shall we?” Stephen passed round the drinks, and everyone raised them.

“To living within new, limited means at Lady Pinckney’s,” Nicholas announced.

“For the nonce,” Stephen clarified.

“And here’s to sharpening your skills when it comes to choosing female companionship,” added Harry.

“A challenge for any man,” Nicholas said.

Truer words had never been spoken.

Stephen leaned against the mantel, a grin on his tanned face. “It’s often the bon vivants of this world who have the highest standards and are most often disappointed,” he philosophized. “It’s why we become bon vivants in the first place.”

“There’s something to that,” Harry agreed.

Nicholas raised his brandy higher. “To Impossible Bachelors.”

“Here, here,” came a chorus of assents.

The foursome clinked glasses and drained them.

“Every woman I meet from now on,” Charlie said, “will have to jump through proverbial hoops of fire to even be considered an acquaintance. Not only that, my heart is firmly locked up, and I’ve thrown away the key.”

“Don’t go that far,” said Harry. “We’ll hold the key for you for a bit. Someday you’ll want it back.”

“I doubt it.” Charlie’s tone was dry. “I think I’m the Impossible Bachelor destined to remain so. But let’s get back to Grandmother. How plebeian you must think me, to be satisfied with walking poodles and feeding canaries. I’ve got loyal friends willing to take over those tasks for me—your wives.”

“Our wives?” Harry drew in his chin.

Nicholas and Stephen exchanged wary but amused glances.

“Indeed,” said Charlie. “I’ve already contacted them, and they’ve assured me they’d be delighted to turn down Grandmother’s invitations and tend to her pets on my behalf. They even suggested they might get their husbands to perform those chores for them.”

“No!” all three of his friends cried at once, and then chose their own favorite curses to heap upon his head.

Charlie laughed. “You’ll be more amenable to the idea once you hear about the important mission I’ve got to do on Grandmother’s behalf. I refer you once more to a letter from one of her goddaughters.”

He held the missive in the air again.

Nicholas sat up higher in his chair. “Where is this goddaughter?”

“The north of Scotland,” replied Charlie. “Somewhere near a village called Glen Dewey.”

“Ah,” said Harry. “Yes.”

“You’ve heard of it?” Charlie was curious to know more.

“Of course not.” Harry barely flinched at Charlie’s punch to the upper arm. “When was the last time I left London?”

“Sounds as if it’s at the back of beyond,” Stephen commented.

“It is,” Charlie agreed. “But I’m going there.”

“What for?” Nicholas swirled his brandy in his glass and waited.

“She needs help.” Charlie looked around at all three of them. “She doesn’t say what’s wrong, exactly. Only that she’s in dire straits.”

“Poor girl,” Stephen murmured.

“You know what that means.” Charlie sighed. “The odds are good she needs money.”

“If she does, you’ll give it to her,” said Nicholas.

Charlie’s brow shot up.

“Oh, right.” Nicholas winced. “You’re impoverished at the moment.”

“We can fund your trip,” said Harry.

“Right,” said Stephen.

“How much do you need?” Nicholas was already reaching into his coat.

Charlie drew in a deep breath. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve got to do this on my own. I may have only severely limited funds to throw at the problem, but I’ll find a way to sort it out.”

“I like that attitude.” Stephen, a self-made man himself, nodded his approval. “In fact, take it a step further. See if you can survive on this journey north—and thrive while there—without even a tuppence to your name. That will show your parents—and remind you —that you’re worthy of access to the family fortune.”

Charlie didn’t know what to say. Life with no money at all seemed unfathomable, really.

“Maybe you’ll learn what you’re made of,” Harry suggested.

“Stern stuff.” Nicholas thumped a fist on his chest.

“We’re best friends with a viscount of tremendous character,” Stephen pronounced.

“A man who can solve problems using his own ingenuity,” added Nicholas.

“What’s his name?” Charlie said with a little chuckle.

Everyone had a comfortable laugh with him. But not for long.

“Perhaps my parents are right.” Charlie felt very serious as he gazed round at his friends. “All that money has made things too easy for me.” He thought of his life, one of supreme comfort with very little accountability—to anyone, to anything.

What was he passionate about these days? When had he become a man with very little resolve?

“I’ve lost something,” he admitted. “And I need to get it back.”

“Right.” Harry gave him a stern look. “Starting now—till after you’ve solved the girl’s problem—you can’t spend a penny of your own money or borrow from anyone else.”

“You might as well leave for Scotland tonight,” said Nicholas.

“We’re serious,” Arrow added.

For a moment, no one stirred.

Then Charlie said, “Zeus take it, so am I.”

A feeling of excitement gripped him. Without hesitation, he reached into his coat pocket and removed a leather pouch full of coins. “It’s barely enough to get me to Scotland and back, and only if I stay at modest inns.”

“That’s still too much,” said Harry. “Hand it over. And don’t go back to your grandmother’s. You probably have banknotes stashed in your pockets there.”

“I do.” Charlie slapped the purse into Harry’s palm.

“Next time you see us, you’ll be a different man,” said Stephen.

“Who knows what adventures you’ll have meanwhile?” asked Nicholas.

“I wish I could go.” Harry sounded a bit wistful.

“Huh,” said Charlie. “I’ll be sleeping in haystacks while the three of you go back to your wives and the cozy beds they’re keeping warm for you.”

Harry and Stephen were quick to shake his hand, but when Charlie came to Nicholas, his friend said: “Let’s make this even more interesting. What will you forfeit—besides your honor—if you don’t follow through to the very end?”