at him, disgust curling her lip. “This is not like you. The Harry Willoughby I knew was kind and honest.”
“Maybe you never knew me.”
She had said she was outgrowing her naivety, and Joshua fancied he saw her shed a bit of it there.
“If this is the kind of thing you do and say,” she said, “then I don’t want to know you at all.” She whirled about and marched for the door, her color high, her head higher. She pulled open the door and Smith tumbled in.
“Take me to Lady Bolderwood,” she said. “Now!”
The butler jumped to attention and obeyed.
The moment the door shut, Joshua turned back to Bolderwood and rubbed his hands together.
“Now she’s gone, we can discuss this properly,” he said.
“Properly!” Bolderwood spluttered. “You swindled me, you bastard. You had this coming.”
“You beetle-brained, muttonheaded numbskull!” To keep from throwing any punches, Joshua paced. Dark, painting-shaped patches stained the wall, the bookshelves were mostly empty, and no ornaments adorned the mantelpiece. “I warned you it was speculation and not to risk what you cannot lose. And what do you do? You go to a bloody moneylender!”
“But you prime everyone first, don’t you? We hear about how much you made here, or how much your friend Dammerton made there, until we’re all begging you to take our money. You’re like one of those gaming hells that plant people to say they always win big there, so off the bubble goes, expecting to win, only to get fleeced instead.”
“No one else is complaining. You know why? Because they’re not whining children.”
“They’re scared of you, but we are not. You bedded those other men’s wives, and everyone will believe you bedded mine too. Everyone except naive, gullible Cassandra.”
“You greedy, selfish p—poxed pizzle.”
There was little point arguing. The muttonhead had convinced himself that he had been swindled. Probably easier than facing the fact that he had made some bad decisions.
Joshua shook his head, disgust unfurling in him. “You and your wife deserve each other. The worst part of this is that people might think I am so devoid of taste that I would ever look twice at that woman. No, the worst part is the insult to Cassandra. She deserves better.” He picked up the snuffbox, examined the bawdy pictures on each side. “I’m amazed you haven’t pawned this, along with everything else.”
“That was a gift from my wife,” Bolderwood said.
Joshua dropped the snuffbox as though it had bitten him.
“Women have desires too,” Bolderwood added. “Sinful desires to do sinful things, and if my wife finds her way into another man’s bed every now and then…”
His voice trailed off. A hazy glint in his eye, a crooked twist to his parted lips, a hint of a flush. Bloody hell. Bolderwood was aroused by it! By the thought of his wife with another man. And if that was what they got up to…No wonder this adultery accusation made sense in their minds.
The presence of the extremely handsome, extremely unqualified butler took on a whole new meaning.
Joshua wiped his hand over his forehead as if he could wipe away the thought. Some things he did not need to know.
Meanwhile, Bolderwood was laughing softly, as if to himself. “And of course, I forgive her, because I love her.”
“Did you ever think what this would do to Cassandra and her family?”
“She’s an uptight prude, anyway, and boring. That’s why you bed other men’s wives, isn’t it? Because your own wife is—Aargh,” he finished on a gurgle, as Joshua buried his hand in the man’s neckcloth and shoved him hard against the wall.
“You were saying?”
Bolderwood’s face went red and he forgot the rest of his sentence.
“You will drop this lawsuit,” Joshua said. “You end this now, or so help me, I’ll make you sorry.”
He loosened his grip to allow the man to speak. Unfortunately, Bolderwood had not grasped the lesson.
“By the time this is done, you’ll be a laughing stock and we’ll be rich,” he rasped out. “We’ll drop the lawsuit if you pay us now. Protect your sweet wife that way.”
The door opened. Joshua turned his head, Bolderwood still pinned to the wall.
“What?” Joshua said to the butler. “What?”
Smith gulped, looking at his employer helplessly. Joshua hoped the lad made a good plaything, because he made a rotten butler.
“Mrs. DeWitt would like to go home now,” Smith finally said.
Joshua dropped Bolderwood like a poisonous snake and adjusted his sleeves.
“We’ll ruin you, Bolderwood,” he said, while the younger man coughed and rubbed at his throat. He liked the