“Watch your tongue—she is your stepmama.” Weariness settled upon the duke’s features, and he sat heavily in a chair. “Let us not argue about pointless matters. I came to update you on my progress. Suppressing the scandal you caused has not been a simple matter. The whore has agreed to maintain her silence, but Corbett is refusing to cooperate.”
Andrew Corbett was the eponymous owner of the bawdy house where the trouble had taken place. Corbett’s offered first-rate pleasures at commensurate prices, and its proprietor was known to be an exacting man who was ruthless when crossed. Anyone permitted entrée into Corbett’s exclusive domain knew his rules—and that they would pay for any violations. That Corbett did not take kindly to one of his wenches being beaten half to death didn’t surprise Sinjin.
Stomach churning, he said, “What does Corbett want?”
“To bring the matter to the magistrates. But there is no case without the whore’s complaint. And I’ve convinced her to stay silent—at least for now.”
In other words, the duke had bribed Nicoletta. The fact that Sinjin was party to yet another injustice made him feel ill. But was Nicoletta an innocent victim in all of this… or was there something more sinister going on?
“Did you get my letter?” he said abruptly.
The duke gave a terse nod.
“And you read it? The part where I remembered that someone else was in the room—a man?”We must act before he awakens.That has to mean something,” he went on eagerly. “Why didn’t Nicoletta mention him?”
“What are you suggesting happened?”
“I don’t know exactly.” He raked a hand through his hair. “But I do know that something’s not right. Why can’t I remember anything? Believe me, if there’s anything I excel at, it’s holding my liquor. I’ve drank far more than I did that night and still remembered everything the next morning. I’ve been thinking perhaps that…” He expelled a breath and along with it the suspicion that had taken root in his mind. “It’s possible, isn’t it, that I was drugged?”
“You really believe that you were drugged?” The duke’s eyebrows arched.
Sinjin hated that particular expression of his father’s, which conveyed louder than words what His Grace thought of his second son. One would think that a lifetime of receiving such looks would make Sinjin inured to them, yet they never failed to draw his blood.
Fighting self-doubt, he insisted, “It’s possible. I had three glasses of whiskey before Nicoletta and I went upstairs. Perhaps someone drugged one of my drinks.”
“And even if it were true, this supposed drugging, to what purpose would this nefarious plot have been undertaken?”
“I have enemies,” he said warily.
“Who?”
The list of potential suspects wasn’t exactly short. His raucous lifestyle and make-no-apologies attitude had garnered him his share of detractors. Men he’d had disagreements or altercations with… women he’d refused or who’d wanted more than the casual bedding that they’d agreed to at the outset. But who hated him enough to try to make his life a living hell?
“Langley,” Sinjin said. “He’s had it in for me for some time.”
“ViscountLangley?” The duke did not bother to hide his incredulity. “Why on earth would he want to see you tried for assault?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Sinjin muttered, “A while back, I was paying a visit to his lady when Langley came home unannounced.”
“Damnation, Sinjin,” His Grace exploded, “you were bedding another man’s wife?”
At the time, Sinjin hadn’t thought anything of it. Audrey Langley had been the one to instigate the affair, after all. The sultry brunette had approached Sinjin at a ball, coyly informing him that she and her husband had an “understanding.” As Langley kept a string of mistresses and had a legion of by-blows, Sinjin saw no reason to question her assertion. When Langley had returned home unexpectedly and caught them together, however, it had become blazingly clear that Audrey’s understanding and her lord’s were two different things.
What was sauce for the gander wasnotfor the goose, after all.
Sinjin would have gladly sorted out the problem with pistols at dawn (it wouldn’t have been the first time). But Langley, the blustering fool, hadn’t called him out. About a week later, however, a wheel had come loose on Sinjin’s carriage, and Sinjin’s driving skill had saved him—just barely—from a dangerous crash. In examining the damage, he’d found that someone had tampered with the axle. Although he had no proof, his gut had told him who was responsible.
“I misunderstood the nature of the arrangement between the Langleys,” he said finally.
“What goes on between the viscount and his wife are none of your business! Devil take it, Sinjin, since you took on the title, I have done everything in my power to reason with you. To make you desist with your degenerate ways. Yet you persist with it all: the wenching, drinking, and reckless behavior. Worse yet is the fact that you refuse to take any responsibility for your actions.”
The lecture was as familiar as the twin surges of resentment and shame. “Iamtrying to take responsibility. That’s what I’m telling you. There was a man there—”
“When Stephan was Revelstoke,” His Grace cut in, “he knew his duty. What have you done? Have you even visited your estate?”
He hadn’t—because the notion of taking his brother’s place made grief howl inside him. He’d never wanted the title; it belonged to Stephan, the good brother. The brother who deserved to be alive.
“I’m not Stephan,” he said tautly.
