Free If Wishes Were Earls by Elizabeth Boyle Page A

aging gallant was.
    But apparently the female half of the ton did.
    “Must I remind you, she is your responsibility.”
    “I think my aunt would disagree.” Vehemently.
    Lady Gudgeon leaned closer, holding up her fan to hide what she was saying. “Whenby is out to fleece your aunt.”
    Roxley pressed his lips together. The old fool could try. After all, it was usually the Marshoms who were doing the fleecing. But he knew he needed to mollify Lady Gudgeon or he’d never be rid of her. “I hardly think—”
    “Of course you don’t,” she snapped, clearly having run out of patience with him. “You never do! But you must try, Roxley. Now more than ever. Whenby is a ruinous, scandalous roué—”
    Lady Gudgeon was worried about Lady Essex’s reputation? Finally something amusing about this entire conversation.
    Had the dear old matron ever really met his aunt?
    He endeavored to keep a serious expression. “You think Lord Whenby is going to seduce my aunt?”
    “I don’t know what he is about, but it can’t be good.” Again the fan came up. “Whenby is barely received.”
    “Probably because he is barely known,” Roxley pointed out. Then he remembered why the name was vaguely familiar. “Then again, my lady, I do believe he was part of the Duke of Preston’s house party last summer. Lady Juniper would hardly have included this fellow on her guest list if—”
    “Lady Juniper? Whatever would she know of men? Married what, three, nay, now four times—and willingly. Bah! Whenby’s poor ton , clearly evidenced by the fact that he’s lived on the Continent for ages. Everyone knows what that means. Don’t let it be said that I didn’t warn you. When Lord Whenby leaves your aunt ruined and penniless you will have no one to blame but yourself.”
    Roxley crossed his arms over his chest and took another look at this fellow. “You must own, Lady Gudgeon, that if all of that were to befall my aunt, Lord Whenby would bear some responsibility in the matter.”
    “Bah! You’ll see! When it all tumbles down around your ears, you’ll see that I was right.” With that, Lady Gudgeon stormed off.
    Wasn’t his life already tumbling down atop his ears, as Lady Gudgeon so eloquently put it?
    Straightening his coat and shaking off the remaining ill-will the lady left in her wake, Roxley took a quick glance around the room, searching for Harriet—and found her still dancing with Fieldgate.
    Would this demmed set never end?
    In the meantime, he took another look around the room and spied his old friend Poggs, probably the only remaining man in Town who still owed him money—and had been like a fox to ground in paying up.
    Roxley crossed the room and clapped his hand on the baron’s shoulder before the wily fellow could give him the slip. “Poggs!”
    “Roxley!” the baron said, smiling widely. “Just the man I’ve been looking for.”
    Looking for him? This was rather out of character for Poggs. Roxley had quite expected the fellow to bolt once he’d caught wind of the earl’s approach.
    “And here I thought you were avoiding me—”
    “Never, never, my good man!” Poggs said, looking overly affable. “Should I be?”
    “Well, now that you mention it, there is that matter of that wager from last spring—”
    “Oh, yes, well, you’ll be utterly diverted when I tell you the most interesting on dit . Why, I daresay you’ll forget that trifling vowel entirely when you hear what I have to tell you—”
    Roxley doubted he’d forget such a large debt or dismiss it as trifling. His Marshom forebears would rise up from their graves and haunt him for such a thing.
    Forgiving a debt, indeed!
    Poggs, meanwhile, continued nattering on. “—for you see I’ve had a letter from my mother—”
    “Your mother, you say?” Roxley scratched his chin. “No, I can’t say I am diverted. Not in the least.”
    “No, no, Roxley! You miss the matter entirely. My mother wrote me with instructions to seek you