on a make-believe errand. Jealously had made him behave badly. The day he’d seen her with Carstairs at the stream had filled him with such an ugly, cloying jealously he’d had to leave abruptly to avoid doing Carstairs violence. Then he’d sent Carstairs to the country, inadvertently pushing Lady Dobson to betroth Maggie to Winthrop.
All Tony had wanted was Maggie away from Carstairs. He’d never even considered the cost to her.
What a selfish prick he was.
Just like your father, a voice whispered.
Another bite of pain crossed his chest.
As the carriage pulled Maggie away from Elysium and him, the awful tugging of his heart in her direction increased tenfold. He wasn’t even aware of the damn thing most of the time and hadn’t used it in years.
I’m bloody well aware of it tonight.
Surprising how much it hurt.
His cock hadn’t been the only organ engaged in the ruination of Miss Margaret Lainscott. Tony himself was compromised in a way he’d never anticipated. His fingers fluttered, still feeling Maggie’s slender hand in his, already missing her.
She wants Carstairs. His fingers curled into fists at his side. And it was just as well she did.
“Who is she?” The words floated in the night air along with the smell of a cheroot.
“No one,” Tony said to his brother. Leo was almost invisible in the darkness. “You should have announced yourself.”
“Why? And spoil your farewell? I also beg to differ. That was someone,” Leo said as Tony walked to the stone bench where his brother sat and settled next to him.
“It doesn’t matter.” In the grand scheme of Tony’s life, the virtue of an almost spinster who played the piano shouldn’t be of any importance, especially when weighed against the rage and bitterness he wielded like a sword against the Duke of Averell.
“I think it matters quite a bit. I think she matters.”
“Shut up, Leo.” Tony didn’t want Maggie to matter. That was the problem. “She’s just a young lady whom I was trying to entice into bed. I’ve decided she’s not worth the effort. I’m sure she’ll make someone an adequate wife.” He lied smoothly, hating the way his heart rebelled at his own words.
“Just not yours.”
“God, no.” He snorted. “The line of the Duke of Averell ends with me. My final revenge on our father. Besides, I’m morally bankrupt, as all of London knows. What would I do with a wife?”
Smoke hovered in the air from the cheroot before Leo said in a quiet voice, “He’ll be dead soon, Tony. When he is, will it matter that you denied yourself something you clearly desire?”
“Who said I wanted her? I’ve just told you—” Tony sat back. Sometimes Leo just needed to shut up. “I might say the same to you.”
Leo said nothing for a few moments. “My situation is much more fraught with difficulty. Who is she?”
Tony turned, trying to make out his brother’s features, so like his own in the dark stillness of the garden. For the first time, Tony had something he didn’t want to share with Leo. He was confused. Wounded and raw as if he were bleeding. More unsure of everything with each passing day.
“A dalliance only,” Tony heard himself say, nearly choking on the word. “I doubt I’ll remember her name in another week.”
“Who are you attempting to convince? Yourself or me?” Leo flicked his cheroot to the ground and tamped it with the heel of his boot. He stared at Tony for a moment, as if considering his words, before he said, “Nothing you do to the Duke of Averell will bring Katherine back.”
Tony stiffened at the mention of his mother. “This discussion is over,” he hissed. How could Leo bring her up?
Leo stood and made his way back inside Elysium, pausing beside the door to look back at Tony. “In all the years we’ve owned this establishment you’ve never once entertained a woman in your private rooms. Never played the piano for any female you were trying to seduce. I think that makes her someone to you, whether you realize it or not.”
21
Margaret shifted on her feet before the mirror as Eliza moved around her, putting the finishing touches on her coiffure. The pale gold silk had rows of tiered fabric, lined with brilliants, glittering in the light as the full skirts belled around Margaret’s ankles. She even had matching slippers.
Eliza gave a final pat. “There, that should do it.” The maid had arranged Margaret’s hair in heavy coils, pinned up in the back and threaded with silk