A Season of Masks and Masquerades

Chapter 14: An Evening Drink At White's

"Are you insane? And that too in a letter!"

Lawrence's eyebrows were not about to settle down any soon. His forehead was a mess of frowns, while Edward only shifted in his seat nonchalantly with a glass of whisky. Showing no signs of reciprocation of his friends heightened emotions.

"Will you calm down?" He asked and emptied his glass in a gulp. The way he cared more about Lawrence's temper than the entire situation was not helping at all.

"No, I will not," Lawrence replied in a voice as loud as earlier if not louder. "I believe I made myself extremely clear last night that I shall play the masquerade with you no longer than the Richcomb Ball. I will not as much as breathe in your stead anymore."

Edward placed his empty glass on the wooden table in front of him and bent forward toward Lawrence. "I am certain you understand that we are sitting in London's most gossip-prone club right now. Raising your voice at White's is equivalent to raising the ears of the entire London to your matters. You, my friend, are certainly a man intelligent enough to know this."

"But you, my friend," Said Lawrence, trying to keep his voice as low as he could, "are certainly not! Sending private letters to a lady? Do you even understand how scandalously wrong this can turn out for you and more importantly for her?"

"Do you think I don't?"

"I am sure you don't or you wouldn't have done something as childish as this."

"That is not how you talk to a Duke." Edward stretched back into his chair comfortably.

"And that is not how a Duke acts!"

"Sure, mother!"

The club was packed with finely dressed men of all ages. Most of them were still wearing the same attires from the Radcliffe luncheon earlier in the afternoon. In fact, the luncheon was the topic of most conversations around the room. The food, the attires, the drinks, the music, the attendees and the Duke were getting discussed. Most of them tried to keep their voices low at the onset of the evening but as more barrels were emptied into glasses and glasses were emptied into throats getting dried of continuous gossip, the men forgot to keep tabs on the volume.

Edward and Lawrence were sitting in a faraway corner to avoid the idiocy but it was almost inevitable. As undoubtedly clear it could be, the little episode of the Duke handling Miss Sherborne's stumbling body was the most communicated story of the day. Edward was no less than relishing the popularity but from afar and was almost expecting to read a vivid description of his tale of heroism in the newspapers the next morning.

"Why would you not leave the young lady alone? You've caused much trouble to her esteem already." Lawrence pleaded with utmost sincerity.

"You're going to do more harm to her esteem than me if you keep up with that volume." Edward pointed out while refilling his glass and paused to have a sip. "And, I'm not doing anything to her esteem. Hands off."

"No. You're merely sauntering around secluded backyards with her and sending her secret letters. And of course, the entire betrayal that you have planned in her glory."

To Lawrence's utter horror, Edward chuckled as he replied, "That's a very dramatic way of presenting the situation. I only have pure intentions with regards to our dear Miss Sherbo-"

"Don't mention her name!" Lawrence interrupted. "There are many ears around!"

"Then what should I call her? Dear Miss Peach-gown?" Edward asked and laughed at what seemed an alien joke to Lawrence.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. The noise of loud cackling and wild cursings never stopped. The corner where they sat had now lost more people as most men had gathered around a table where a game of poker had reached its most interesting point.

"She hates me," Edward spoke in a deep voice, the chuckles and jokes gone from his eyes. "She hates the Duke, the very idea of a rich man. She will not as much as let my shadow touch her if she finds out my identity. I have no other alternative."

"Alternative for what, Montague? She hates you and you hate her. Isn't this the most fortunate coincidence? Instead of planning a useless facade, you should be contemplating ways to keep away, so she can find herself a suitable man and you are let free from that decade-old promise." Lawrence emptied his glass and slammed it on the table declaring it his last. He waited for Edward to reply but he kept staring into his glass of whisky as if he did not listen to Lawrence at all.

Shaking his head hopelessly, Lawrence lifted himself off the chair when Edward's words made him fall back.

"Things have changed."

An awkward silence followed Edward's words. He meant them all. His voice said so, as did his eyes. Things really had changed. Lawrence just wanted to know by what extent. "Are you planning to marry her?"

"What?" Edward blurted out in surprise. "No! No. Not at all, God. That is not the last thing on my plan." He was laughing once again.

"You should know you're only confusing me by every next couple of words that stumble out of your mouth," Lawrence stated plainly.

"It's simple, Lawrence. I will not marry her. Ever. There is only something that I need from her, something that only she can give. Hence, I must keep her around, for a while." Edward concluded his explanation with a wink.

Lawrence's mouth wouldn't close despite his will. He tried multiple different ways to interpret Edward's words and the conclusions were all as disturbing as the other. "This seems so absurd but I can't help but ask, you are not back to your old ways, are you?"

The question was the most serious, even more was the one asking, Edward however was not much concerned, nor was his answer.

"Well, now that you seem to be back to being my mother, I might as well..."

"You might as well?" Lawrence exclaimed shaking the table between them with a bang. "You cannot. You're no longer a boy who can dally around with unnumbered women. You're the Duke now. A dukedom is on your shoulders. You cannot think of any such thing that might ruin your reputation."

"Lawrence will you stop-"

"This is childish, no, this is beyond childish. This is immature and irresponsible. I beg you to put an end to all this nonsense the very next time you meet Miss Sherborne, or-"

"I thought we weren't supposed to mention her name." 

"Or I shall be compelled to fill Lady Richcomb in with all your conspiracies. That should put an end to this stupidity." Lawrence completed his statement despite Edward's contrastingly jolly interruption.

The air suddenly got thicker around them the moment Lawrence mentioned Eleanor. For they both knew there wasn't anyone who had authority on the Duke of Dales but his own sister. However, what darkened in Edward's eyes at her mention was not submissiveness or defeat. He instead looked challenged and almost frightening.

"Lawrence Benjamin," Edward tilted his head downwards as his hands constantly made circles on the table with the half-filled glass he held, "you will do no such thing. You're going to cooperate with me on this. You will pretend to be the Duke for Esther whenever and wherever I need you to. Take it as a friend's request," his hands stopped and his head tilted upwards to have his eyes stare right across Lawrence's, "or your Duke's command."