“Oh? What?”
“It is a damn shame we must stay here for your sister’s benefit. Are you sure you can’t find her a suitable husband in the next, oh, twenty minutes?”
Sam smiled
that
smile and laughed. “Come, before someone else decides to sneak in here for an illicit rendezvous.”
It felt so good and natural taking Sam’s arm in his own as they crossed the room, and just as painful and unnatural to let it go as they returned to the ballroom.
* * * *
Me! Dear God, he wants
me!
Sam pressed his nails into his palm, willing himself to calm down and stop being a fool. He had managed to keep his exuberance internal and move through the evening as if it were like any other. He danced several sets with many different ladies, including a fair number of wide-eyed debutantes who tried their best to look bored and sophisticated. He had to grit his teeth and say nothing when Evers danced twice with Flor and made a show of laughing and smiling the whole time. What pained him the most was the genuine happiness in Flor’s eyes. So taken in.
And, of course, he had not been able to stand at John’s side the entire night. Tempting though it was to be with him every moment, it would not be smart. Even Henry and Richard played cards at different tables and went off to talk in different groups. In that, they were really not that different from the married couples that surrounded them, quite honestly. It was an amusing thought.
After another bout of dancing, Sam took up a position at the edge of the dance floor to watch the crowd and rest. The lucky presence of a massive Oriental vase to shield him meant he could even avoid passing greetings. He looked over the room, both hoping and fearing that he would see Julian again. He felt wretched and bewildered. Julian had seemed so shocked and hurt. But how could he? Julian was lust and touch and all-consuming pleasure, and always had been. He had never shown Sam anything more. Though he had been more attentive of late.
Had Sam missed it? Had Julian been testing the waters, trying to tell him he felt more? The idea only increased the guilty twinge in his belly. He would never wish to hurt anyone that way, and Julian was a good soul, even if he did seem determined to hide it behind all that sophistication.
“Sir Samuel?”
Sam turned from the dark window and nearly bumped chests with Evers. Sam’s scowl was instant.
“What do you want?” Sam snapped.
Evers stiffened, then seemed to force the reaction away. “A private word, if you don’t mind. I see neither of us in engaged for this set.”
There was little doubt what Evers wanted to discuss. “A ball is hardly the best place for a private word, is it?” The irony of that was not lost of Sam.
“I think you know as well as I just how much private business is conducted in a house bursting at the seams,” Evers countered, his prickly tone belying the smile on his face. “Please?”
Sam was ready with another refusal, then reminded himself that he had hoped for just this circumstance. Yes, why not be done with it? It would be the evening of uncomfortable tête-à-têtes, then he could leave and spend the rest of the night falling to pieces in John’s arms.
With that thought bolstering him, he gave a curt nod and followed Evers through the house to a dark sitting room bursting with potted plants. The fact that there were no candles and only the hearth fire suggested that their hostess had not intended her guests to use the room.
“All right.” Sam sighed, closing the door.
Evers stopped in front of the fireplace and turned. “I want to ask for Flor’s hand, and I respectfully request your leave to do so.”
Very formal, very proper, and probably like ashes in the man’s mouth. Sam was tempted to rage, to tell Evers that he would never countenance being related to such a self-important bully, but he remembered John’s advice.
“Fine. You may do so whenever you wish.”
Evers blinked. “I can?”
“Yes, of course,” Sam said flatly.
“You approve?” Evers tilted his head like a confused dog.
“I didn’t say that. I said you may ask her. Would you like to discuss the terms now while we are both here?”
Evers blinked again. “Would that not be more appropriate after? After Flor has accepted me?”
“Yes, strictly speaking, but I have a feeling you would like to know the terms first.” Sam was beginning to enjoy himself.
“All right. Yes.” Evers rolled his shoulders.
“First, Flor will not be married before the end of May. I would like her to have a season and enjoy herself rather than immediately be thrown into household duties.”
Evers’s posture relaxed. “Oh. Well, yes, all right.”
“Second, there are a few legacy inheritances in my father’s will that will go to Flor’s children. We will have to arrange for transfers and stewardship and other such legalities.”
“Fine. Yes.”
Sam overflowed with satisfaction. It was the bittersweet taste of revenge, but he did not care. “And finally, if Flor accepts your offer, you understand that she will come to you with no dowry.”
The words fell like a hammer. Evers stared, his icy-blue eyes narrowing until his lips curled in a snarl. “You can’t do that.”
“Of course I can do that. I am Flor’s guardian, and the payment of her dowry is reliant on my approval of her match. Any match with you that includes her dowry is a match I do
not
approve of. You see? All legal and aboveboard.”
Evers gaped as if he could not believe what he was hearing. He looked almost lost. “So the dowry is, what? A lie?”
“Not at all. Our father set aside forty thousand for Flor’s marriage. I am telling you that for you there is no dowry. You are welcome to make Flor your wife, if she will accept you, but all you will get is a kind, intelligent girl who for some idiotic reason seems to like you!” Sam had meant to stay calm and aloof, but he could not help the anger eating through him.
Evers closed his eyes and clenched his fists.
“You don’t love Flor.” Sam sneered. “You probably don’t even like her.”
“Don’t be an imbecile, Shaw!” Evers snarled, moving toward him. “You know how this works. If you can name ten love matches in the ton, I’ll call you a liar. This is the way it’s done!”
“I know that.” Sam took a step forward too. He let the memory of every insult, every little prod that he had suffered from this man wash over him. “I know Flor’s dowry will gain her a husband, but it will not be you.”
Evers raised his fists, but Sam was not afraid of an attack. Even Evers would not do something so stupid at a ton ball. Instead, Evers stopped inches from his face, his eyes flaming.
“Still not good enough for you, eh, Shaw? Still reaching for the higher rung? I guess the younger son of an earl isn’t high enough for your ambitions. Do you think forty thousand will be enough to lure an actual earl? Or perhaps a viscount?”
Sam hesitated, confused by the “good enough” statement, but he brushed it off. “Is that what you think? Your rank means nothing in this. I would not hand over Flor and her dowry if you were a duke. In fact, I would not hand Flor to you at all, but I have no fear of that because I know you won’t ask for her hand without the money.”
“We’ve already been seen together too much. If I don’t make an offer soon, there will be talk. It will hurt her reputation.”
“Not to any degree that can’t be managed. There is no further discussion. Unless, by some miracle, you actually care enough for my sister to take her with an empty purse, I think we’re done.”
It lasted a mere second, but that lost look flashed across Evers’s face again, cold and panicked. He replaced it with a cold stare. “I see. I don’t suppose you’re worried how this would make you look if it got out.”
“The ton already has me as a temperamental ass,” Sam said bitterly. “But you already know that, don’t you? You’ve always done such a fine job of prodding me into showing my worst. Even when we were at school you always chose the perfect moments to torment me. Did you really think you could come to me and ask for my sister? You must be out of your mind.”
Sam realized just as the words left his mouth that it was happening again. Evers was driving him to lose his temper in the worst possibly setting, and he would not be the object of another humiliating scene. He turned away, catching only a flash of Evers’s shock before he reached the door and slipped out into the hall. He was done with Evers, and he needed to calm himself before someone noticed. He headed for a pair of glass doors and the dark terrace beyond, leaving Evers to stew.
It was a clear night and a full moon, the air crisp and frosty. He rested his hands on the cold stone balustrade and closed his eyes. What he would give to be able to face confrontation with poise, the way so many others did. The ton was a viper’s nest of little wars, little snipes and cuts under a glaze of etiquette. There was some who seemed to thrive on it, to enjoy the moments when they would exchange strained greetings with people they despised. Sam had never understood it.
A clinking sound cut through the soft breeze, and Sam snapped his head toward it. Farther down the terrace, near another row of glass doors leading to various room in the house, he saw a man take his hand away from a glass he had just set on the balustrade. An orange point revealed his was smoking a cheroot and staring at Sam.
It was Sills.
Sam let out a long sigh. “Sills. Afraid I didn’t see you there.”
“Certainly saw you,” Sills drawled, taking another draw from the cheroot. Sam watched as Sills reached for his glass, his movements slow and careful. He was drunk.
“Avoiding the crush? Don’t blame you,” Sam said, forcing a smile. “I think I’ll head back. Good evening.”
Sam expected some response, even if just a dismissive grunt, but Sills only stared at him, eyes wide and unblinking. There was something off about it, something disturbing.
What the bloody hell is wrong with him?
Sam took a step back. Either Sills was foxed out of his senses or he had lost his mind. The evening had already given Sam his share of uncomfortable encounters. If his luck continued, the next would be Henry dragging him into some other quiet room to say things he didn’t want to hear.
“Evening, then,” Sam muttered and headed for the door. The moment he was inside the tension fell from his shoulders. He made his way back to the ballroom where the second to last set had just started up. He spotted Flor and Kat on a sofa and headed toward them, hopeful that he might convince them to leave early.
But before he could make his way around the perimeter of the dance floor, he saw John heading toward him.
“Sam, evening,” John said as a group passed them. Then, more quietly, “Are you all right? I saw you when you entered the room, and you looked upset.”
“I spoke with Evers.” Sam decided Sills’s drunkenness was not worth mentioning. “I followed your advice and he was less than pleased.”
“And you enjoyed it a bit too much, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Sam smirked, but he was genuinely embarrassed. He did not enjoy being vengeful. Or, more accurately, he did not like that he enjoyed it.
“If you say so.” John leaned in, as anyone might do to relay a bit of gossip, and whispered, “Must you stay much longer? I want to kiss you till dawn. Then fuck you till breakfast.”
Sam gasped and turned his back to the room. His scalp blazed with heat. “Hush! You are teasing me, and it’s not fair.”
John looked anything but repentant. “I know. If it is any consolation, you are making me shamelessly reckless, which is just as unfair. So, do you? Have to stay much longer, that is.”
Sam looked at his sisters again, chatting on a sofa and sipping drinks, then back at John staring down at him like a hound at a steak.
“No.” Sam swallowed. “I think I’m ready to go.”
Chapter Sixteen
Arrangements
Sam made his way home the next morning like so many bachelor men of his class: clothes wrinkled, hair limp, and eyes bloodshot from a night of debauchery. Such sweet debauchery. John had tried to make good on his promise to kiss Sam until dawn, but neither of them had been able to wait for the sun. Sam had been sure that nothing could compare to that first night, but John had proven him wrong. Three times.
He had been tempted to leave the night perfect, with nothing outside to mar it, but as they’d lain together in the twisted sheets, watching the fire burn down, he had finally told John about Henry.
He’d told him about the friendship that had been more than friendship, about the touching and secret rooms where they would be alone. When he described his plan and what had happened in the cellar that day, John had cursed for him. Then everything that had happened after: being found, crying and lost, by Evers and two of his friends, and the taunts and misery that made up the rest of his school life.
“And what of Brenleigh now?” John had said. “I have seen him try to speak to you on more than one occasion. Do you think he wishes to make amends?”
“I think he feels guilty, and he’s looking for me to make him feel better. He isn’t sorry.” Sam had fumed.
“Guilty. Sorry. I don’t think I really see the difference. Aren’t remorse, regret, guilt all part and parcel?”
Sam had laughed, for what else could he do when faced with such truth? His response had not been one of his best moments, though. “I know I’m being petty. And bitter. I know I should speak to him, but I can’t. I don’t
want
to be on good terms with him. I feel if I forgive him it will mean he won. Or at least he didn’t pay. I’m sorry, John. I know that’s rotten.”
“You are a better man than I.”
“How is that? I just told you I’m rotten.”
John had smiled, run his fingers through Sam’s hair, and said, “Because most angry men think they are in the right no matter what. At least you know you’re wrong.”
“Ah. Thank you?”
They had laughed, then kissed till neither could keep his eyes open.
The return of Lily and the household staff was inevitable, however, and Sam had to remind himself that spending every night together had never been a possibility anyway. That did not mean he had to be pleased about it, and his sisters commented on his grumpy disposition as he escorted them to various soirees and functions over the next several days. John had his own invitations and obligations, but they did manage to share a box at the opera, seated next to each other behind his sisters, not paying a bit of attention to the stage as they exchanged looks and quick touches, behaving like absolute fools.