Trem’s stomach dropped. Debauching? It wasn’t debauching—well, maybe, it had been, a little.
“Is that what he thinks?” Trem demanded. He had hoped that John might still be laboring under the delusion that his relationship with Henrietta was chaste.
“Er,” Montaigne said, “yes. I think it finally occurred to him that an engagement cemented suddenly—after weeks of supposed ‘secret courting’—was probably a bit of a patched-up business.”
Trem groaned. “Fuck. Do you think he will loathe me forever?”
“Maybe,” Leith said, taking a tart sip of his wine. Really, Trem thought, Leith spent so much time with courtesans, he was starting to adopt their mannerisms.
“No,” Montaigne countered. “Once he realizes that you really care for Henrietta and that you didn’t intend to deceive him, he will straighten out.”
“John has a temper,” Henrietta supplied. “But once he calms down, he can see clearly.”
“Exactly,” Montaigne said, pointing at her with his fork and then digging back into his mutton.
“I can see why he is upset,” Leith tendered. Trem felt his patience snap as his supercilious tone.
“Good God, man, why do you care?” Trem spat out.
He knew he was losing his composure—which he hated to do. Among his friends, he was the amiable one. Even Montaigne was prone to angst, whereas the most he ever got was melancholy. And yet Leith had pushed him too far.
“We all know John is being an arse,” he continued. “He doesn’t own Henrietta any more than he does me. She is free to do as she pleases. And she wants to marry me—and I certainly want to marry her. I would kill for this woman.” He brought his hand down on the table and the silverware clattered with it. “I have always been loyal and devoted to my friends but I will be damned before I let them get in the way of me being with the one woman I have ever truly wanted. Why does John have a right? Just because he is her brother?”
Leith looked shocked. His face had gone a bit pale. Montaigne had frozen halfway through cutting his mutton.
Then he felt Henrietta’s arms twining around his neck. He sank against her, closing his eyes, comforted by her apple scent and the gentleness with which she touched him.
“My apologies, Trem,” Leith finally choked out. “You are right—and I see how you care for one another. I don’t think John—your brother,” he said, gesturing towards Henrietta, “is being wholly reasonable. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. I think we were all just…surprised. We’ve all known each other for years and no one expected…well, this.” He ended this statement with a gesture in their direction.
“I know,” Trem said, quietly. “Neither did we.”
“Well,” Henrietta said with a laugh in his ear, “I did, a bit.”
“But you know that’s not the only reason John is cross,” Leith replied. “What you said to him—about never protecting Henrietta. You know that is a tender spot for him. He never feels that he did enough for her. You, I mean.”
“That’s because he bloody well didn’t, and it is about time someone said it.”
“You said what?” Henrietta cried. “Trem.”
“Left that bit out, did he?” Montaigne interjected, “I agree with Leith—it is half of why he is so cross, easily.”
“It was after he said—the other thing,” Trem protested to Henrietta, who looked vexed but not actually angry.
“What other thing?” Leith asked, looking confused.
“He told Trem that he always cocks everything up,” Henrietta supplied.
“That’s a bit extreme,” said Leith, his tone contemplative. “Trem doesn’t really try much, does he? He plays it safe as policy.”
“Brilliant, thank you,” Trem said, feeling indignant once more, even though he had said the same about himself.
“Come now. Words were had, no man was in his right mind—” Monty had returned to his meat and was looking at it with philosophy.
“And from what I understand,” Leith inserted, “two priceless vases were broken. To think what they could have paid for…” Trem smirked. He had a sense what Leith imagined they might pay for—at least two weeks of company with a high-end London lightskirt or new finishes for his curricle, one or the other.
“—BESIDES,” Montaigne interrupted, “my point is that we can’t let this drama sour our evening. This occasion is a joyous one and John will see reason eventually. And you will be pleased to know, both of you, that we were able to have a bit of a discussion with Lord Hartley before our departure.”
Now, his fiancée really was crimson. He pulled her onto his lap, wanting her close when such a sensitive matter was under discussion. Leith rolled his eyes at this intimacy but managed to keep his mouth closed.
