The Bastard's World

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

Matthias could feel young Lady Holcombe trembling as she took his arm to be escorted down to dinner.

If she was so foolish as to think she was in danger from him at a dinner party, then she deserved to be frightened. Matthias wasn’t going to waste time reassuring her when he had more important things to concern him. The Earl of Bayard, their host for dinner, was one of the last names on the list of people his father had significant contact with on the Continent, and Matthias still had four more pieces of the globe to acquire.

Likely he’d have to begin searching the country homes of the handful of people on the list. The prospect was not a pleasant one, as invitations to the necessary house parties would be even more difficult to secure than those to dinner parties.

Ladies of the ton had no objection to inviting the bastard of the scandalous union between the beautiful, widowed Countess of Windstone and the dashing Marquess of Caver, to a ball. Caver had always been happy to acknowledge his by-blow, giving him the Deverell name as well as a generous sum of money that would have left Matthias very comfortable even without his mother’s fortune. Such wealth went a long way toward erasing the stigma of his birth. His appearance at a ball was always a coup for any hostess.

Issuing Matthias Deverell an invitation to dinner, however, was another matter entirely. There was little interaction required by the hostess at a ball, but a dinner party suggested some degree of intimacy or acquaintance that few ladies were eager to acknowledge, no matter his fortune or connections. An invitation to a house party was out of the question.

Matthias knew he could have solved that problem by making himself more agreeable, but he was very young when he began equating “agreeable” with “weak,” and vowed never to be perceived as such. His wealth had always smoothed his way well enough, and he’d never had difficulty fulfilling any desire.

Pressure applied to the ladies by their husbands brought about any invitations necessary, usually done in return for financial advice in the past or the promise of a place in a future venture. Matthias’ talent for investment was well known among the men of the ton. He had increased the allowances given to him by his parents so much that when his mother died last year, he had hardly needed her fortune to add to his own.

The few men he was not able to convince for financial reasons required other incentives. Matthias had also discovered at an early age that knowledge was power and so he collected information even more intently than he did money. While most men did not flaunt their mistresses as his father had, there was little stigma attached to having one, either. Fortunately for Matthias, many men of the ton had other secrets they did not want known.

Matthias had little fear of retaliation, despite the fact that he could be accused of some of the same offenses as the men he coerced. He knew his leanings were a hanging offense, but Matthias also knew enough about many lord chief justices, barristers, and magistrates to ensure that charges were never brought, let alone heard.

While all that assured him entrance wherever he wished, it hardly endeared him to the men and certainly wasn’t enough to make the ladies treat him with anything more than the barest civility.

As he led Lady Holcombe through the hall on the way to the dining room, however, it all ceased to matter. On a side table was an exquisite crystal bowl being held by a cast iron stand that Matthias recognized immediately. He barely managed to restrain his sigh of relief. Tomorrow, after a few well-placed words with his host, the stand would be back in his possession.

Matthias’ mood improved to the point that he could look on Lady Holcombe’s fear and everyone’s unease with humor instead of irritation. What did they expect him to do, after all? In all his twenty-nine years, he had never made a public spectacle of himself. He’d had enough of that growing up amidst his parents’ scandalous affair.

As he was seating Lady Holcombe at the table, he was suddenly possessed by the notion of pulling her chair away instead. Perhaps that would satisfy the trepidation of the other guests. Hopefully just the image would be enough to sustain him through seven courses of banality.

The first course was served, and Lady Holcombe, no doubt desperate for a topic of conversation, asked if the Soup la Reine was very similar to what was served in France, overlooking the fact that Matthias’ Grand Tour would have been years ago. Matthias politely pointed this out to her, adding that Napoleon made the usual route taken through the Continent by young Englishmen difficult at the time. Instead, he had gone further south, and spent much of his time in the Ottoman Empire where there had been many, many ways for a wealthy young man to enjoy himself. Matthias managed to refrain from mentioning the Turkish baths or the dancing köçeks and kept to more suitable subjects, but it didn’t take long for the insipid questions to irritate him to the point of biting sarcasm, which effectively put an end to the conversation.

He was able to enjoy the second course in relative peace until he heard that name again. “Esmond?” he barked, and everyone at the table immediately fell silent.

Lady Bayard cleared her throat delicately. “I believe he is an acquaintance of yours.”

“Only by name,” Matthias corrected, the reminder adding to the tension around the table. The contents of the documents Esmond had brought to light had become common knowledge among the ton. There was nothing in them had constituted solid proof against the Marquess, only the words of General Morrow that he had asked his old friend, the Marquess of Caver, to assist him in transporting a fortune in gold and jewels confiscated from Napoleon back to England. A fortune that had vanished at some point.

“Beg pardon, Walcott.” Matthias nodded in the most polite manner he possessed. He needed any information he could get about Esmond. “You were saying?”

“That I was at the auction held at his home the other day. Sad business, that.”

“Did you bid on anything?” someone else asked.

“I did not. There were all manner of mushrooms raising the prices on some of the finer things, don’t you know. Wasn’t about to lower myself by bidding against them. I was surprised at the number of rather shabby pieces in his home. I thought Esmond had better taste than that.”

So Esmond was in such dire financial straits that the bailiff had taken charge of his affairs. That was most interesting, and in light of what Izzy had said about his lack of funds, it changed everything Matthias had previously thought. Matthias had always known Esmond was the heir to the Steading earldom, and had assumed the current earl gave him an allowance that permitted him to live the life of any well-to-do young blood—fast horses, fine clothes, expensive mistresses, and gambling dens. He’d also assumed that Esmond’s only reason for bringing forth the documents was to bask in the scandal and infamy that went along with them. He’d been a fool not to investigate Esmond more thoroughly, just as he’d been a fool to think that his father spoke ill of Esmond in his letters merely because Esmond had run off with his current bit of fluff. He would not make those same mistakes again. “Has Mr. Esmond quit town, then?” Lady Holcombe asked.

“He certainly never mentioned such a thing when he called a few days ago,” Lady Bayard said.

“Did he call?”

“Did he make mention of the auction?” Walcott leaned back so a footman could remove his plate in preparation for the third course.

“Well, he wouldn’t, would he? No, he shared the latest on dit and—oh! He admired my new bowl greatly. Did you by chance see it in the hall? It arrived directly from Waterford last week.”

“That’s a remarkable stand you have for it.” Matthias kept his tone bland.

“How strange,” Lady Bayard laughed. “That’s just what Mr. Esmond said.”

“Indeed.” Matthias barely managed to keep his tone one of casual interest.

“Very strange indeed,” Lady Bayard continued. “We’ve had the stand for a year or so, but I always found it rather dull. It seemed like just the thing to set off my new bowl, but all anyone seems to notice is the stand.”

All the ladies at the table hastened to assure her that the bowl was the loveliest ever seen. Then the conversation turned to the newest crop of young ladies coming out this Season.

Matthias made appropriate noises whenever necessary, but his attention was focused inward, on plans for the next day. In addition to securing the globe stand, he would have to speak to his man-of-affairs and set him to gathering all possible information about Clarence Esmond.