“What? Someone who would betray me without giving a damn?” Richard closed his eyes miserably. Over the past two weeks, he had thought a lot about Henry, going over every second they had been together, including those last minutes at Tattersalls. If Richard was honest with himself, he had to admit that Henry had never uttered any promises. In fact, he had said very little, but Richard had been too drunk on his triumph to notice. Now he was simply too angry and disappointed to see the situation with any objectivity.
“You know better than that, Julian. Men like us are superb actors.”
“But he isn’t.” Julian shook his head. “A good actor would know better than to carry and use
your
handkerchief in public.”
Richard’s breath constricted in his chest for a moment.
Still? Even now?
No. He forced the thought away. It was not sentiment on Henry’s part. It was…cruelty. His handkerchief and watch were nothing more than trophies to Henry now.
“And why are you telling me this?” Richard folded his arms over his chest. “It doesn’t matter.”
Julian ran his fingers through his raven hair, something he almost never did, out of concern for his meticulous appearance. “Well…” he began cautiously. “Couldn’t you, perhaps, speak to Lady Anne and convince her to cry off? You could make up some story—”
“He doesn’t want me, Julian. What part of that don’t you understand?” Richard hissed through his teeth. He could hear his voice thickening. “He would just find some other poor debutante to be his countess. And…and I don’t want him either! He’s cruel and selfish. Ask Shaw if you don’t believe me.”
Julian blinked. “Sam?”
Damn it
. “Never mind,” Richard said quickly. “I don’t want to talk about this. Any of it.”
“All right.” Julian raised his hands in surrender. “Will you at least leave with me?”
Richard raised an eyebrow, wondering.
“
That
is not what I meant, you ass,” Julian snapped. “You made your opinion on that clear weeks ago.”
“Julian…” Richard sighed. “We…we’re just after different things, you and I.”
“Stop. All right?” Julian pursed his lips irritably. “I’m not bitter, and I’m perfectly content to be friends. What I
meant
is, will you leave this cesspool of a gaming hell with me right now and promise not to return?”
Another terse refusal hovered on Richard’s tongue, but he forced himself to swallow it along with his pride. Julian was right, even if it pained him to acknowledge it.
“Fine.” Richard sighed. “I lied about throwing away my fortune anyway. You know I rarely lose.”
“Yes, I know,” Julian scoffed. “It’s why I always try to partner you at whist.”
They were heading back to the main room now and the blessed exit beyond. The vulture fellow and his companions appeared to have moved on to other entertainments and were no longer going to be a problem.
“When I saw you after first coming in, before that smelly beanpole accosted me”—Julian shuddered—“I thought I saw you at the roulette table. Hardly a game of skill.”
“No,” Richard agreed as they stepped out into the mild spring night. “But I managed to win there too. Played the same number at two different wheels and won both times. Tell me the odds of that.”
The carriage that Julian often borrowed from his father was waiting outside, the coachman on top keeping his guilty face hidden under his hat brim. Richard laughed to himself and climbed in, allowing his liquor-softened form to fall into the seat.
“What number did you play?” Julian asked.
“Huh?”
“At the roulette table. You said you played the same number.”
“Oh. Eh…twenty-six.”
Julian chuckled to himself and crossed his legs as he stared out the window.
“What’s so damn funny?” Richard said.
“Oh, nothing. Just that, if memory serves, Brenleigh is six and twenty years old. Is he not?”
Richard folded his arms across his chest and stared out the opposite window. “Shut up, Julian.”
* * * *
Henry was stepping into an exquisitely appointed library, the air tinged with a combination of beeswax candles and rich leather. He closed the door gently behind him, wondering if he was being foolish to do so. Cayson, after all, looked like he wanted to kill him.
“I do not appreciate being forced into a meeting,
my lord
,” Cayson said, his breath coming hard and heavy through his nose.
Henry nodded in a silent understanding of Cayson’s anger. Henry had approached him and a group of his companions on the side of the busy ballroom floor only a few minutes ago and had spoken to him as if they were longtime friends. Henry had politely
reminded
Cayson about his promise to talk to him about buying a horse. It was a thin story, and one that made Henry wish he knew the man better. Cayson’s companions had appeared to give it no particular thought as Cayson had reluctantly walked away with Henry. Now he faced a very angry, jealous man.
“I’m sorry about that, but I doubted you would agree to give me a private audience otherwise.” Henry held his hands behind his back and tried to put forth the confident look of indifference that had always served him when dealing with servants. Cayson was, of course, no servant, but it was the best Henry could do under the strain.
“What do you want?” Cayson demanded.
Henry sighed and wondered if the man knew just how transparent he was being. The only reason Henry knew for certain of Cayson’s feelings for Lady Anne was because Richard had told him, and Cayson knew nothing about that.
No reason to beat about the bush.
“I wish to speak with you about Lady Anne.”
Cayson’s frown turned into a full scowl. He opened his mouth, then stopped, as if he had thought twice on what he was about to say. He turned his eyes away. “If you are concerned that her continuing friendship with my sister might cause a…problem, I can assure you it will not. I
am
a gentleman, my lord.”
“No, it is nothing like that,” Henry said. “I will be blunt, sir. I believe my engagement to Lady Anne has been a mistake.”
Cayson’s eyes widened, and he stormed forward. “If you mean to jilt her, you bastard—”
“Watch yourself!” Henry snapped. He might have been there to do a good deed, for more than one person, but that didn’t mean he was going to be insulted for it. “Before you insult me further, hear me out. I will not cry off, as you know that is impossible. She must end it, and I sincerely believe that she would like nothing better.”
Cayson’s look of sneering disbelief was understandable. Lady Anne, to any observer, looked like the picture of a blissful bride-to-be. Henry could only hope that Cayson’s feelings for her were mutual. All he had to go on were Richard’s words, quickly delivered as Richard had been leaving the room at Tattersalls.
“Why?” Cayson said, his voice challenging. “Why could you possibly wish to end the engagement? She is…” He turned away again.
Oh, he does love her
. “Perfect?” Henry offered. “I will admit that Lady Anne is everything a man could hope for in a wife. She is beautiful and kind and intelligent, but I require more, I’m afraid.”
Cayson gave him a look that could only be described as offended. “Perfection is not good enough for the Earl of Brenleigh?”
“No, sir. Loveless marriages of convenience are not
good enough
for me. I do not love Lady Anne, and she does not love me. I might have been willing to overlook this, but I can’t overlook the fact that she loves you.”
Cayson, obviously determined to see only bad motives in Henry, stiffened and clenched his fists as if ready to fight. “That is ridiculous. And even if it were true, what do you imply by it? Do you think I would…interfere with Lady Anne after you are married? Are you warning me off or else you will jilt her?”
“Damn it, man. I’m trying to help you.” Henry sighed, throwing his hands up. He walked forward angrily. “I’m telling you that she loves you, and if you can convince her to throw me over for you, I will do everything I can to help you in the endeavor.”
For long seconds, Cayson stared like a gaping fish. Then, collecting himself, he shook his head. “You’re…you’re doing this because she doesn’t love you? You actually care about that?”
Henry pursed his lips and frowned. “Is that so very rare, or is your opinion of me just that low? No, don’t answer that. I suppose both are true. Yes, Mr. Cayson, because she does not love me, and because, like a damn romantic fool, I am hoping to hold out for an actual attachment. That and…and I find that I am fond of Lady Anne and wish to see her happy.”
It was Henry’s turn to look away now. He was not lying, per se, yet he was certainly giving Cayson an impression that was not entirely true. It was the best way, though, and the one least likely to pique the man’s pride.
Cayson turned to the mantel and rested one hand on it. “H-how can you know that? I mean, how Lady Anne might feel about me? Did she say something?”
One of the first rules of lying, Henry knew, was only fabricate what you must; use what truth you can. “Lord Richard told me.”
A look of surprised delight crossed Cayson’s face. “He did?”
“I hope he was not mistaken. Otherwise, I have just made quite the fool of myself.”
“No!” Cayson cried, then cringed and looked at the floor. He took a few moments but eventually spoke. “Even if it’s all true, ending an engagement is a serious thing. It would cause a scandal, and her brother—”
“Don’t worry about that,” Henry cut in. He could not control Culfrey, and so it would be futile to worry about that potential hazard now. Also, telling Cayson that he planned to speak to Lady Anne was probably not a good idea. No man liked to believe that his proposal had been accepted only because of the interference of others. Cayson’s next question came as a shock, as if he had been reading Henry’s thoughts.
“Have you spoken to Lady Anne about this?”
“Certainly not,” Henry said. It was true. He had not spoken to her
yet
. Henry was relieved when Cayson appeared to accept the response and nodded several times. There was an awkward pause, the very air in the room seeming to say,
What now?
“If I might suggest,” Henry said, stepping closer. “The Cunningham picnic is this Saturday, and as I understand, the grounds are quite extensive and boast an impressive wilderness walk. It would be very easy for two people to get lost.”
If Cayson’s eyes had looked wide before, that was nothing compared to now. “You are not suggesting that I compromise her, are you?”
“Hardly,” Henry said with a sigh. “Merely that you have an opportunity to speak with her alone.”
“I’m not sure what I would say to her.”
Cayson appeared to lose himself in his thoughts, and Henry was growing more uncomfortable by the second. While it was more than common for gentlemen to cut up and talk about their affairs with mistresses or the loose women at Covent Gardens, it was quite another thing to discuss a man’s…well…finer feelings.
“Think on it, Cayson, I implore you. I must return to the ballroom. I am engaged with Lady Anne for the next dance set.” Henry turned with an abruptness that he hoped was not offensive, yet which he could not help. He desperately wanted to end the interview. Just as he grasped the door handle, Cayson made a sound in the back of his throat. Henry turned.
“Brenleigh…” Cayson sighed heavily. “Thank you.”
Henry nodded once, then left the room. He walked back to the ballroom with a pleasant feeling of relief, until he remembered that he still needed to speak to Anne.
* * * *
It was several days before Henry was able to find a moment alone with Anne. Although the proprieties around them were somewhat relaxed due to their being betrothed, it would raise curiosity with her brother and sister-in-law if he was to ask to have a private word with her at Avery House. He decided that a ride through the park was the best he could manage. It was hardly private, in the strictest sense, but he would at least be able to talk to her without others joining the conversation.
“It’s a beautiful day, my—Henry,” Anne said, sending him a bright, forced smile.
He returned the gesture, hoping his smile did not show the pity that lay behind it. She really was unhappy. She was an attentive young woman, hardly ever forgetting a name or a face, and yet she still faltered when referring to him by his name. It only strengthened his resolve.
“If you would not mind, my dear, I was hoping that we might drive in a more secluded area of the park today,” he said, ignoring her attempt to discuss the weather.
“Uh…a-all right.” The color, what little there had been, drained from her face.
Henry wondered if she thought he was planning to steal a kiss or something else, a prospect that she obviously did not care for. “Yes, there is something of great importance that I would like to speak with you about.” He directed his team away from the bustle of the circuit, where the rest of the ton was walking and riding for the afternoon, and noted the look of discomfort that overtook Anne’s features. He hoped that after he was done speaking, she would feel much different.
“What must you speak with me about, my lord?”
He slowed his team until they were barely moving. “I do not wish to alarm you or make you uncomfortable, Anne, but I must know truthfully. Do you wish to marry me?”
“Oh!” She shook her head vigorously, not in reply but in denial of the accusation. “Of course, my lord. I…I have accepted your gracious offer, and—”
“Do you not feel that you would prefer to marry someone else?” He cringed inside. There was no easy way to broach this, nor to carry it out. “Are you certain you do not…care for someone else?”
It was clear that Anne had very little experience with lying or dissembling, for rather than utter a denial, she merely continued to shake her head while her expression fell apart. Her eyes began to glisten.
“W-why are you asking me this?” she whimpered. “Did I do something wrong? Did I say something wrong?”
“No. No, I assure you, my dear.” He took her hand in his while he managed the reins with the other. “I ask only because we both know that this engagement is an arrangement, do we not, Anne? It is what has been expected of both of us, and not having particular antipathy for each other, we just went along with it. I do not believe you would be happy with such an…organized marriage, and neither would I.” He lifted his chin and took a breath. “And I sincerely doubt that Mr. Cayson would be pleased.”