Rowan flinched. Turned it to his advantage? That was exactly what he’d been trying to do from the moment he discovered Sophie’s secret. Turn it to his advantage.
“Unless your motive for spending time with the young woman are something less probative,” Percy continued. “Her purse is—”
“Stop,” Rowan said through clenched teeth.
Percy’s brow furrowed. “What? I’m just—”
Rowan caught his lapels and shook him. “Stop. Now.”
Percy backed away, his eyes wide as he pulled from Rowan’s grip. “There now, Sinclair, there’s no need for that. Jesus.”
Rowan stared at his friend. A man he knew to be good and decent and filled with nothing but good humor. Yet a few ill-placed words and Rowan had been willing to come to blows with him.
Over Lady Sophie.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” he muttered.
Percy held his gaze for a beat, then motioned toward the door. “Come. We need a far stronger drink than the weak swill this lot calls sherry.”
Rowan nodded silently, and followed his friend from the room and down the hallway to an open parlor. They entered, and Rowan sat as Percy poured them each a glass of scotch. Rowan downed his in one swig before Percy could even take his seat.
“What’s wrong?”
“They cut me off,” he admitted.
Percy’s eyebrows lifted. “Your brothers?”
“Completely. I depend on the allowance, I’ve never done much to save it. It’s…”
“It’s complicated,” Percy said. “Because of your art.”
Rowan bent his head. Only a handful of people knew of his passion. “Yes. I have never made what I do public. I have tried to build myself as an artist on my own merit, rather than on the curiosity of those who might buy a piece. I have kept it quiet to protect my family name. And now I have nothing. So I admit that when I started to pursue Sophie, her purse did have something to do with that. What kind of a man does that make me, Percy? What kind of a bastard does it make me?”
“The same as a dozens of other bastards in our acquaintance,” Percy said with a shake of his head. “Money and power make most marriages in the Upper Ten Thousand go ’round. But I know you, my old friend. This self-abusing thing you are doing has nothing to do with what you don’t feel. It seems to me that you are torturing yourself with what you do.”
Rowan pushed to his feet. Percy was treading dangerously close to ground he didn’t want to walk. Didn’t want to look at.
“Do you care for this girl?”
There was the question in a nutshell. The one he’d never fully expected to ask himself or have asked to him. “I have…no answer to that.”
Percy seemed to ponder that for a moment. “I see. You’ve circled her a long time. Far longer than just the last week or so.”
“I suppose I have, considering my long friendship with her aunt,” he conceded.
“Is that why you formed the friendship?”
Rowan blinked. “That’s ludicrous.”
“Is it? Because I watched you watch Sophie for at least a year before you became her guardian’s friend. I don’t doubt you and Lady Louisa do connect, but was that your true motivation?”
“I would have spoken to Sophie long before if I had feelings for her,” Rowan said, folding his arms and glaring at his friend.
“Would you have? You, who have never been said no to in your life? Would you have truly risked Lady No’s cut direct?”
“What are you saying?”
“That perhaps the money and this sudden drive in her to say yes are just catalysts for you to pursue what you’ve always secretly wanted. And now that you feel closer to it, you’re afraid.”
