Twice a Rake by Catherine Gayle Page A

Quinton’s vices. Which was why he was here, now. If anyone could stop Quinton, it was his grandfather.
    Griffin established his resolve and knocked at the door. A butler ushered him inside and settled him in a sitting room, and a pretty young maid brought in a tray with biscuits and tea. He finished his first cup of tea and was well into his second before Rotheby joined him.
    “Lord Griffin. One of Laughton’s sons, aren’t you? What do you want?” The older man had a spring in his step that was obviously missing in his deportment.
    Griffin jumped to his feet and started to bow, but Rotheby waved him off impatiently.
    “My lord, I’d hoped to speak with you on an important matter regarding your grandson and a certain Miss Hyatt. I assure you, it is quite imperative.”
    The earl narrowed his eyes and took a seat in the closest armchair. “Miss Hyatt, eh? Go on.”
    “I was at my club yesterday afternoon when I overheard Lord Quinton speaking with a friend”
    “Eavesdropping is rude,” Rotheby interjected. “Is your father aware of your penchant for such behavior?”
    So he wasn’t going to make this easy, was he? Quinton had probably already started things in motion then. Something had to be done. “My lord, your grandson has come upon Miss Hyatt’s journal. A journal filled with sordid stories.”
    The earl’s eyes widened, but he shook his head. “And that should matter to me why , precisely?”
    Griffin threw up his hands in disgust. “Because he is going to use this against her! He intends to trap her in some way and force her hand. He’ll ruin her as fast as he devastated my sister—you do remember that, do you not?”
    Rotheby gave a curt nod.
    “Then you’ll also remember that Phoebe was innocent in their situation. As, I’m sure, is Miss Hyatt. You, sir, must do something to stop Quinton. You must rein in your wayward grandson and protect this young lady before it is too late.”
    The earl reached to a nearby table and picked up the morning’s society papers. “Here, take a look at this.” He tossed it to Griffin. “You’ll see that you are too late. I expect they’ll marry within the week.”
    Griffin scanned the story, reading how the bastard had cornered the poor girl and kissed her before half the ton . Thank God Phoebe had left before seeing that. Who knows what it would have done to her.
    He left Mansfield House, kicking himself for not acting sooner.
    Miss Hyatt must now suffer for his inaction.
     
    ~ * ~
     
    “I have half a mind to stop aiding you,” Jonas said, climbing into his phaeton after Quin. “Maybe Rotheby was on to something with his ultimatum.”
    “Lovely to have your support,” Quin grumbled. With the two of them seated together, there was hardly room to breathe, let alone stretch one’s legs in any sense of comfort. “I am perfectly capable of traveling to Doctor’s Commons on my own, you know. You need not keep me in leading strings.”
    “If I’m not going to cut you off,” Jonas said, “I intend to keep both eyes fully trained on you until this is all settled to my satisfaction.”
    Quin had had enough. First, there was the blistering headache from indulging a mite too much in brandy the night before, compounded by the arguments with Jonas that had gone well into the night. Then the meeting with Rotheby that morning—which had been an effort, to say the least. And of course, he’d had to handle both Hyatt and Aurora, as well.
    Some days he thought perhaps there was something to be said for living a quiet, predictable, honorable life. Maybe someday he would give it a try. Likely not, though. Even though sorting out the messes he created often made him want to toss himself inside a burning building, they were still damned fun creating in the first place.
    “I gave you my bloody word. More importantly, I gave Miss Hyatt and her father my word. We’ll marry tomorrow.”
    “Your word does not seem to mean much, these days.” Jonas frowned