Page 66 of Of Fate and Phantoms
"You're an astute judge of character for one so young." He no longer slurred his words, but the familiar lazy drawl was back, as if he couldn't be bothered to even open his mouth. "So you'll help her get back on her feet, so to speak?"
I considered my answer carefully. "As I said, we don't host dinner parties."
"But you do get invited to some. Perhaps mention her name and secure an invitation for her too."
"She seems quite capable of securing her own invitations, despite the gossip. She was at the Hothfields' masked ball, for instance."
His face twitched again, as if the muscles danced of their own accord. "She was, and she made a fool of herself."
"That must have been after we left. What did she do?"
"She gambled it all on the prince and lost. She did pick up the consolation prize of one of his friends, however, a rather smarmy member of parliament by the name of Swinburn." He pulled a face. "Upstart," he spat. "He's in shipping, of all things."
I remembered Seth mentioning him after the New Year's Eve ball. "He's not titled?"
"He's a nobody."
"Does it matter, if he's rich? He must have some influence with the prince if they're friends."
"You don't understand, Charlie. Swinburn is hardly even a gentleman. His grandfather was a sailor. His father began the shipping firm but it was only modest in size by the time he died. Swinburn built it into the empire it is today."
"My God, how beastly of him!"
He rolled his eyes. "You're not amusing, you know."
"So he's a self-made man. Is that all you have against him?"
"No. I have…a feeling. He drinks, gambles, and treats women abominably, discarding them after he's had his fill." He downed his brandy in a single gulp. "I'd wager he's quite without morals, although he can be charming enough to one's face."
"He sounds a lot like someone I know."
Half his face lifted in a smirk. "Perhaps it takes one to know one. The thing is, Charlie, it's all right for someone my age to gad about, but not a fellow of his age. He must be mid-forties, at least."
"If you're worried that Lady Harcourt will lose her heart to him, then why not tell her your concerns? I'm sure she'll appreciate you worrying about her."
"I doubt it," he mumbled. "She'll accuse me of having an ulterior motive."
"Don't you?"
His gaze slipped away. He pushed himself out of the chair and sauntered to the sideboard. I was faster, however, and got there before him. "You've had enough to drink."
"Come, now, Charlie," he slurred, a bitter smile on his lips. "I have to drown my guilty conscience or it'll drown me."
I narrowed my gaze. A sick feeling settled into my stomach. "What do you have to be guilty about?"
He sniffed and stared down into his empty glass. "Can't you guess?"
"Yes," I whispered, horrified. "I think I can."
His gaze lifted to mine. It was filled with remorse, all the usual arrogance stripped away.
"You notified the newspapers about her past, didn't you?" I said. "It wasyouwho told the reporters she used to be a dancer at the Alhambra."
He lifted one shoulder then nudged me aside. I lost my balance but caught on to the sideboard and recovered. I let him help himself to another brandy as I digested his confession. This man, who professed to love Lady H and seemed to care for her, had betrayed her in the worst possible way. Her reputation was everything to her. She'd buried her past as thoroughly as she could, only to have the man closest to her dig it up and tell the entire world. I'd never felt sorry for her—until now.
I watched him pour himself a brandy, drink it in one gulp then slam the glass down on the sideboard. By some miracle, it didn't shatter.
"Go on, then," he said with a detachment that I didn't believe. He cared far more than he was letting on. "Tell me what you think of me."
