"Survival habit."
"Smart." Henry studied him for a moment. "You know, you are not what I expected."
"What did you expect?"
"Someone more... political. More interested in playing the game. But you are not interested in games at all, are you?"
"I am interested in results," Gregory said. "Games are for men with too much time and too little purpose."
"You will fit in wonderfully here," Henry said dryly. Then, more seriously, "Look, I know you do not know me. Have no reason to trust me. But I served as well—not as long as you, and not in the same capacity. I was fortunate enough to avoid most of the actual fighting. But I know what it means to come back to this—" He gestured around the room. "—and find it all rather absurd."
Gregory studied him carefully. Looked for signs of deception, ulterior motives, the careful maneuvering he had learned to expect from London Society. But Henry's expression remained open, his posture relaxed. Either he was telling the truth, or he was a far better actor than most.
"Why are you telling me this?" Gregory asked.
"Because I think you could use an ally," Henry said simply. "And because I am tired of spending my time with men like Weatherby and his ilk. They bore me. You, on the other hand, are interesting."
"I am not looking for friends."
"No," Henry agreed. "You are looking to secure your estates, help your tenants, and probably navigate the marriage martwith your new duchess while avoiding the worst of Society's machinations. How am I doing?"
Gregory's eyes narrowed. "You have been paying attention."
"I make it my business to pay attention." Henry leaned back in his chair. "Here is what I propose. You need connections—real ones, not the false flattery and backstabbing that passes for friendship among most of the ton. I need something to do that does not involve listening to Weatherby and his friends discuss their tailors for three hours. We help each other."
"And what, precisely, would this help entail?"
"Introductions," Henry said. "To men who actually matter. Investors for your estate improvements. Political connections if you ever decide you want a seat in Parliament. And in exchange, you let me tag along and enjoy watching you terrify the worst of London Society into behaving themselves."
Despite himself, Gregory felt something almost like amusement. "You want to be friends with me because I am intimidating?"
"I want to be friends with you because you are honest," Henry corrected. "Brutal, occasionally violent, and utterly lacking in social graces—but honest. That is rarer than you might think."
Gregory considered this. He did need allies. And something about Henry felt... genuine. Not the careful performance most of London seemed to require, but actual directness.
"One condition," Gregory said.
"Name it."
"If I discover you have been lying to me—about anything—I will not give you the courtesy of a warning. I will simply ensure you regret it."
Henry's smile widened. "I would expect nothing less." He raised his glass. "To honest friendships and terrifying the idiots."
Gregory raised his own glass, clinked it against Henry's, and drank.
Perhaps London would not be entirely unbearable after all.
They talked for another hour. Or rather, Henry talked and Gregory occasionally contributed laconic responses that seemed to delight rather than offend his new acquaintance.
Henry proved to be surprisingly knowledgeable about estate management, having recently inherited his own property after his father's death two years prior. He asked intelligent questions about Gregory's plans for his tenants, offered suggestions about which architects and engineers might be worth consulting, and seemed genuinely interested in the practical challenges of managing an estate rather than simply extracting maximum profit from it.
"You should meet my estate manager," Henry said at one point. "Brilliant man. Completely revolutionized our drainage system and nearly doubled crop yields in three years. I could arrange an introduction if you like."
"I would," Gregory said. "My uncle let everything fall into disrepair. I am starting from nothing."
"Then you will need all the help you can get." Henry signaled for more whiskey. "What about your duchess? Is she the managing sort?"
Gregory thought of Anthea—sharp-tongued, fiercely intelligent, utterly unwilling to be dismissed or ignored. "Very much so."
