Page 144 of Thief of the Ton
“Yes, please tell Simon that his position here is secure—that is, if he still wants it after my behavior.”
The maid’s eyes widened, then she bobbed another curtsey and fled.
Hythe pushed Peregrine into a chair, then poured a cup of tea, tipped four spoonsful of sugar into it, and handed it to him.
“I’m trusting you, Marlow,” he said.
“In what manner?”
Hythe nodded to the teacup. “Don’t let Lady Hythe—or, indeed,anyoneof our acquaintance—know that I’m capable of pouring a cup of tea. I’ll never live it down. But needs must when you encounter an inebriated lord with the temper of a minotaur. Having entered his labyrinth, I trust I shall emerge unscathed.”
“Whyareyou here?” Peregrine asked.
“I told you,” Hythe said. “To tell you that Stiles has freed Miss de Grande.”
“Why should you care?”
Hythe poured himself a cup and took a seat, an expression of guilt in his eyes.
“I suppose I consider myself partly responsible for what happened,” he said. “After all, I was party to your father’s scheme, even though I hadn’t realized the true extent of it until a few years afterward—at which point I thought it too late to do anything, and decided that the matter was best left buried. De Grande was slowly restoring his fortunes with the rent from Fosterley Hall, and he never did set much store by Society parties.”
“My father’s scheme?” Peregrine asked. “You mean the bid rigging?”
“Told you that, did he?”
“After I confronted him about it,” Peregrine said. “And you went along with it?”
Hythe shrugged. “I thought little of it at the time. Your father said it was a jape to get back at the man for stealing something that belonged to him.”
“Which was?”
Hythe colored. “It matters not. What matters is that I gave Stiles a written testimony explaining the matter in detail. I doubt Griffin & Sons would take kindly to bid rigging on their premises, even if it was almost fifteen years ago. They value their reputation highly, and Mr. Griffin Jr. is not above suing the aristocracy for wrongful doing. And let’s be honest—even thethreatof a lawsuit would be enough to make the guilty party confess if he’s a gentleman, for we gentlemen set such store on honor and reputation.”
“Often to our detriment,” Peregrine said. “I take it the item in question was something that money cannot buy. Such as a woman?”
Hythe’s blush deepened. “Forgive me. I meant no disrespect.”
“I’ve known for some time that Father wanted Lily de Grande for his own,” Peregrine said. “My mother never said anything, of course, but she knew he didn’t love her. And why should she expect it? After all, men like us don’t marry for love, do we?”
Hythe gave a soft smile. “Some of us do,” he said. “Those of us who care nothing for dowries or titles—we choose for love. It was plain, to even those of the meanest intelligence, that Lord and Lady de Grande loved each other—and your father resented it. He never loved Lady de Grande. He coveted her, like a possession he wanted to lock away. And when he couldn’t get her, he took the next best thing.”
“The clock?”
Hythe nodded. “De Grande never stopped talking about that clock. His wife had it engraved shortly before her confinement, saying that were she to depart the world, it would be a piece of her to remain here, on earth, so that he might not be lonely. After she died, that clock never left his side. Even during dinner parties, he had his footman carry the clock into the dining room during supper—then again into the drawing room. I always thought it pitiful, but your father…” He broke off. “No matter.”
“I can hazard a guess,” Peregrine said. “My father thought it an object of ridicule, and plotted to take it. But he took more than the clock. He ruined de Grande. He persuaded de Grande to enter into a partnership agreement with him—some form of investment in the South Seas, I believe.”
Hythe nodded. “Yes, that was it. But as it turned out, the companies didn’t exist, and de Grande, who’d signed to act as guarantor, found himself without a penny, his fortune tied up halfway across the world, with no means to retrieve it. Of course, at the time, your father persuaded us to believe that de Grande had attempted to defraudhim, and got caught out in the process.”
“And none of you challenged him?”
“De Grande was a difficult blighter at the best of times,” Hythe said. “It was all too easy to believe your father’s version of events. But I have since learned that theappearanceof goodness often conceals a rotten core. Of course, over the years, that rotten core eats away at the person until it is revealed. I now realize that’s why your father exiled himself in Italy these past fourteen years.”
“Which was?”
Hythe smiled. “To conceal his rotten core from his friends. Francis and Houghton died with no knowledge that they’d been duped. Caldicott—well, he’s a different animal and would sell his mother if it turned a profit. As for myself, I can only apologize for not speaking up before. It might have saved a whole lot of trouble for de Grande. But I always believed that the gentlemanly thing wasnotto tell on a friend. I’ve since grown to understand that the honorable thing is to stand up to one’s friends when they’re in the wrong. And your father was in the wrong. I only hope that one day you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Peregrine said. “You were fooled, as were many others. The one at fault, the one man I cannot forgive, is the bastard who sired me.”
