not a particularly complicated sentence, but it was one of those sentences where the words made sense individually but the meaning of the whole eluded his brain. Joshua ran it back in his mind to see if he understood.
Criminal conversation. Adultery. Still his brain rebelled. Yes, he was no innocent. Yes, there were four gentlemen in London who could make that charge, if they cared to, but they didn’t, because they had reached that stage of marriage where they allowed their wives to make a choice, and Joshua had made sure of that beforehand, because the forbidden held no lure for him, whereas efficiency and good planning did.
“Congress with Lord Bolderwood’s wife?” he finally said.
Das shifted uncomfortably. “That’s what makes the said ‘conversation’ criminal.”
“This is ludicrous. He’s suing me for sleeping with Lady Bolderwood?” Fair hair—Knowing smirk—Sly eyes—Unpleasant—Joyless. “I never touched the woman.”
“He is seeking damages of fifty thousand pounds for the, ah…” Das consulted the wording. “The, and I quote, ‘unauthorized use of his property’.”
“Insolent pup. I wouldn’t, quote, ‘use’ his, quote, ‘property’ even if I were, quote, ‘authorized’. Even if I were paid fifty thousand.”
Bolderwood had been much too prominent in his life recently. Punching him in St. James over some nonsense about his wife. That wife flitting about like a gnat at Featherstone’s party. Isaac’s warning of impending revenge.
Ah.
“They’ve been planning this a while,” he said.
He paced, thinking properly now; Das, as always, the calm in his storm.
“This is…” He snapped his fingers, spun around, clapped his hands. “Yes, that’s what this is. He lost the money, needed more, desperate to get it, blamed me—How bad is his situation, did you find out?”
“Bad. Debts somewhere in the area of thirty thousand, including honor debts and moneylenders.”
“Awards in crim. con. cases have been getting higher. There was that case a couple of weeks ago.”
“That chap Evans was ordered to pay damages of twenty thousand to Lord Oliver over his affair with Lady Oliver.”
“Evans cannot afford that but I can. And I have a reputation. And I’m a wealthy upstart who doesn’t stay where he belongs, and the jury could take offense at that.”
The flowers on his desk eyed him accusingly. Only yesterday, Cassandra had rearranged them with those competent hands, while she spoke of pleasure and joy.
“This is disgusting,” he said. “Disgusting, despicable, and distasteful.”
“The court hearing is in two weeks.”
“That soon.” He paced again, thinking, calculating, disbelieving. “How does this idiot think he’s going to get away with it? A trial means presenting evidence, and there will be no evidence because it never bloody well happened.”
A sour taste filled his mouth. He had plenty of competitors and rivals. Enemies, even. They came with success. There was always something going wrong, someone trying to best him; that was part of what thrilled him and filled his days.
But this was so…personal.
Das did not say a word.
“I never touched the woman, Das.”
Not that he cared what Das thought.
“I didn’t,” he said.
And Das nodded, once.
Joshua glanced at the clock. “Cassandra’s at some ball and won’t be home for hours. I’ll tell her in the morning. You may as well head home. I’ll deal with this tomorrow.”
He followed Das into the entrance hall, watched him pull on his gloves and coat, seeing only Cassandra as she had been the night before, caring that he was upset, caring that he upset her. Waiting, lips parted, for his kiss.
“You don’t think she might hear about it tonight, do you?” he said.
“Depends how discreet Bolderwood means to be.”
“He’s telling lies about his wife, he’d want to be discreet.” Cassandra had been engaged to Bolderwood once. Oh, hell. What a mess. He should have kissed her when he had the chance. “But anyway, she already told me she doesn’t care.”
Das paused, turning his hat in his hands. He started to speak but stopped as a footman opened the front door.
The evening air rolled in, carrying the sound of a carriage approaching. Pulling up. The door opening. Closing. Voices. Footsteps.
“Well,” Das said. “Now is your chance to find out.”
A moment later, Cassandra stepped through the doorway, heartwarming in a blue evening gown and velvet cloak. But his pleasure faded when she stopped short at the sight of him.
Their eyes met, held. Joshua felt as naked as he had the night before. Then her focus shifted so that she looked right through him and she swept into the hall.
“Good evening, Mr. Das.” This with a pleasant nod and smile. “And Mr. DeWitt.” This with a frigid tone and