“Well, I can’t say I ambesottedwith the idea of this affair making its way into the papers,” Leith said, affront lacing his syllables. “But, if I truly cared about your scandals, Forster, I wouldn’t have befriended you at Eton and particularly not on the very day that the prefects nearly knocked the life out of you.”
“And I obviously don’t give a king’s shit what the scandal sheets say,” Montaigne added, “particularly as I have never read one myself.”
“I don’t think anyone has established if youcanread, Monty,” Leith said.
Montaigne responded to this taunt by throwing a dried crust into Leith’s ale and laughing when the splash landed on his cravat.
“If you’re not marrying her or setting her up as your mistress,” Montaigne continued, while Leith tended to his cravat and signaled for a new ale, “what in the name of God are you doing traveling with her?”
“Unfortunately, it’s all too rational. How did you even discover that we were here?” It alarmed John that they had been able to divine this fact so easily.
“My coachman saw Marcel,” said Leith, “and when I asked the innkeeper’s wife if the Duke of Edington was here, she said no, that the only guests were ‘a beautiful silver-haired lady’ and a ‘grand nob’ by the name of Mr. and Mrs. Aster. And that they had been accosted by highwaymen near the cottages this morning and caused quite a stir among the townsfolk.”
John swore to himself. They hadn’t exactly been discreet.
“So, have you been entrapped?” Montaigne continued. “Do we need to spring you free?”
“She isn’t blackmailing me. I already told you both.”
He looked into the faces of his two friends and saw real concern etched there. In a hushed voice, after swearing them to a secrecy he already knew they would maintain, he explained his father’s will and their mission to find Mary Forster to save his sister’s future.
Montaigne drained his pint and Leith coughed. For a moment, his friends didn’t have anything to say.
And then Montaigne spoke. “With all due respect, your father always was a bastard.”
John grinned.
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Leith said, shaking his head. And then he looked at John. “So, you’re using her, not the other way around?”
“We’re both getting something from the arrangement. If we are successful.”
“I see,” Leith said, “and so you are merely posing as husband and wife…you’re not…actually bedding her?”
“Of course not.”
“Really?” Leith said.
“Really?” Montaigne repeated, only in a more incredulous tone.
“Really,” John emphasized. “I promise.”
“But you want to? Almost have? Are seriously contemplating the prospect?” Montaigne interjected.
“For the love of God, fuck off.”
“Well, you shouldn’t,” Leith pressed. “It is a terrible idea.”
“I’m not usually one to advocate for abstaining from pleasure,” Montaigne added, “but Leith has a point.”
“Don’t you think I know that? Why do you think I’m sitting down here with you two?”
John shook his head. He longed to leave his best friends and find Catherine upstairs. He had ordered baths for both of them and he imagined her drying off, her skin freshly washed and warming in front of the fire. He hungered to see her in such a state. He felt himself stirring at the thought and had to pull himself out of the fantasy.
“Forget it,” he said, turning to Montaigne. “Tell me instead of your cousin’s estate. Did anything of interest transpire?”
“Well,” Montaigne said, “as it so happens, my cousin has a new wife…”
John spent the rest of the evening laughing at Montaigne and Leith’s stories about this cousin’s estate. It seemed that they had spent most of their time giving the cousin advice on how to please his new wife in the bedroom. The poor woman was apparently deathly afraid of carnal relations and Montaigne’s cousin—a baronet—was desperate to prove to her that the act could be pleasurable.
