Betrothed to the wrong gentleman: Historical Fiction

CHAPTER 11

'Will you not be going out this evening sir?' His master never stayed home on a Saturday evening. Tonight he was in his library, with his feet up, cradling a decanter of brandy against his chest.

'Do you have a problem with that Nester?'

'No sir, none at all. We have filled the bath with hot water, and your evening clothes are laid out in your chamber.'

'Be gone with you Nester. Do you think you are my mother, reminding me when to take a bath?' Not that he had paid much attention to his mother's instructions as he grew up. Chadwick Rochester had insisted on exercising his own free will from the very second he had exited his mother's womb. Even that he had manipulated, arriving three weeks ahead of schedule.

'Very well sir.' The butler's frown was lost on his master as he departed the library. Nester knew better than to antagonise his master when he was in a foul mood as was evident this night. What was wrong with Mr. Rochester? In the last month he has really been in a dark mood.

Chadwick lifted the neck of the half empty decanter towards his mouth. He seemed to change his mind about having another swig. He tried chasing the demons that were torturing his mind, demons of an tempting brunette, with expressive hazel eyes and inviting sweet rosy red lips. Scowling, he lowered the decanter again.

Be gone with you!

He had to get out. He could go to Whites, play a few games. Lose a lot of money. He smiled to himself. He could afford to lose some money. He was a wealthy man. He stood up, slamming the open decanter on his table, splashing some of its contents in the process.

'Nester!'

'Yes sir?'

'Hurry up with that bath then? Have my coach brought to the front door,' he commanded.

'Shall I have dinner ready for you?'

'I shall eat at Whites.'

'Very good sir. The butler called for a valet to undress Mr. Rochester and assist him with his bath. A second valet helped him dress. His well polished hessians were placed before him. The valet assisted him with his shirt and waistcoat. Chadwick insisted on tying his cravat himself. With his long tailcoat, complementing his fashionable evening shirt and silk stockings he looked rather dash and debonair tonight.

He contemplated his evening ahead as he hopped onto his carriage. He refused the services of his footmen tonight. He would drive his own coach. Perhaps after he lost a bit of money, he could console himself in the arms of an obliging courtesan. He was no saint, but he was a man with a very healthy appetite. Best he pay for his pleasure than deflower maidens, or become entangled with any that would expect him to walk them down the aisle. He had no desire to tie himself to one woman for any length of time. Neither would he ever marry; hell no! Marriage was for men who preferred eating meat and potatoes every single day of their boring, uneventful lives.

Ironically with all his skewed self-righteous philosophy, he could not rein in his wayward thoughts torturing him with an indelible image of a sultry brunette with eyes dark and delicious like chocolate. He remembered her luscious lips tasted even more delectable than any chocolate he had ever tasted. Chadwick lashed his whip into the air, hurrying his thoroughbreds along. Instantly they sprung to action. He smiled wickedly wishing a certain female of the human species could obey him so obediently. He frowned angrily wondering where the annoying chit was. He had purposefully accepted many of the invitations received in the last day or so, in the hope of catching her at a soiree or a ball but she was not in attendance anywhere.

Be gone with you, you daughter of Aphrodite!

       Rankin clasped Madison's hands between his. 'Let me take Baron Sanford into my library to declare my intention.'