“And why not? He’ll be dead; he’ll never know.”
Fury snaked through Peter. “So I’m to pretend the debt is settled, just because the man is dead?”
“It will be,” Quincy insisted. “Don’t you see? Your revenge will be complete.”
“My revenge will not be complete until everything he loved is destroyed.” He shook his head. “It matters not that he’s not here to witness it.Iwill know his empire is intact.Iwill know that I’m the reason his bloodline lives on.”
“This is madness,” Quincy cried. “You would ruin countless lives because of your mother’s death? It’s just as well she’s dead, for she would be ashamed of you.”
Peter’s fist met Quincy’s jaw. Pain exploded in his knuckles, the skin splitting from the force of the impact. He stood, breathing heavily, the sudden blossom of red in his vision fading as Quincy fingered his bloodied lip.
“Forgive me,” his friend murmured, his eyes focused on something over Peter’s shoulder. “I should not have brought your mother into it.”
Peter wanted to howl. The apology, sounding so hollow, so defeated, only managed to expand the guilt that had begun to work under his skin. He opened his mouth, desperate to mend the breach between them. Quincy, however, cut the words off before they could take shape.
“I think it’s best if I return to Boston as soon as possible. I can no longer support your efforts here. And I can’t sit by and watch while you destroy these people’s lives and your own.”
Pain stole the very breath from Peter. “You would leave?”
Still his friend would not meet his eyes. “I can see no other way. For what you’ve been to me, I can’t watch the damage you would willingly cause.”
The pain intensified until it was all he could see, all he could feel. He fought against it, transformed it, turned the burn of it into the cleansing fire of anger.
“I will bid you goodbye then,” he said, before turning and stalking away.
Chapter 27
It really is too bad Mr. Nesbitt had to miss the ball,” Lady Tesh lamented for what felt like the hundredth time that evening.
Peter closed his eyes and fought the urge to curse. Though whether it was from Lady Tesh’s reminder, or the sight of Lenora twirling about on that popinjay Redburn’s arm—or even from the ridiculously snug evening clothes that he continued to abhor—he wasn’t certain. For the first time in his life, he wanted to drown himself in drink, to muddle his brain with all manner of alcohol. And of course, in the Isle of Synne’s luxurious assembly rooms, there was not a drop to be had.
Quincy would have known where to get the stuff. Hell, he would have secreted a flask of it in his tails.
For a single, glorious moment, the hurt that had sat on Peter’s shoulders since that afternoon lifted and he felt his lips curving into a smile. In the next instant, however, he remembered the violent argument, the one he wasn’t sure he and Quincy could come back from. He closed his fingers into a fist, the burst of pain in his damaged knuckles an even more potent reminder of what he had lost.
Lady Tesh, oblivious to his distress, cheerfully added to it. “My, but Lenora and Lord Redburn look well together. I have never seen a couple so well matched.”
“Except he’s a pompous arse who doesn’t deserve her,” Peter muttered before he could think better of it.
“What was that, Peter?”
“Nothing, nothing at all.” He grabbed at his cravat, yanking hard at it, and cast a desperate look around the vast room. “Isn’t it time to leave yet?”
The viscountess laughed. “My boy, we’ve been here less than an hour. Would you take the ladies away from such merriment before the evening has even begun?”
Against his will, his eyes found Lenora. She smiled up at Redburn as he guided her into a circle.Yes.The fierce—and foolish—need to get her away from Redburn pounded in his temples. He’d better get it through his head, and quick, that Lenora was bound to the man.
“And anyhow,” she continued, “you’ve not danced once this evening. I expect to see you out on that floor for the next set.”
“Then you shall be disappointed, for I don’t intend to dance tonight.”
“I beg your pardon?” She gaped up at him from her spot on the bench. “You would refuse to stand up and dance when there are so many females without partners here tonight? That is not well done of you, Peter. I must insist you do your gentlemanly duty and dance.”
“I am no gentleman, madam,” he gritted.
“Poppycock. You are the most gentlemanly man I know.”
He could not help the harsh laugh that escaped his chest. “Do you need spectacles then? For I assure you, Redburn is much more a gentleman than I.”
