Or at least rakes who claimed to have arranged assignations at his ball, in his private study.
When his host left, presumably to find his cousin’s husband, Kenneth found himself rising to prowl the perimeter of the room, his fists clenching and unclenching, irritated at the delay and his failure.
Would he be able to get back into the study to continue searching for evidence? Was there evidence at all? Perhaps the rumors of treason were simply that: rumors. Perhaps the Earl of Standish reallywasas morally uptight and judgmental as he appeared. Perhaps?—
Shite.
“Fraser!” The good-natured call erupted from one of the nearby tables, and he whirled about to see a friend waving him over.
Grinning in genuine pleasure to see the man, Kenneth ambled over. They’d gone to school together and had become good friends. The Right Honorable Mr. Remington Ives, as he hated being called, was the younger son of an earl—and liked to have the same kind of fun Kenneth had always enjoyed.
For the moment, the conundrum of Standish’s supposed innocence was pushed aside. “Remmy! I didnae expect to see ye here!”
In retrospect, perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised. Although Remmy was devoted to his theater,The Grand Folly, the other mandidoccasionally drag himself away from his leading ladies to show his face at the more respectable events.
And damnation, but Standishwasrespectable. But was he also treasonous?
Chuckling, Kenneth settled beside his friend and onlythenturned to face the other man sitting at the table.
And managed to hide his reaction.
Remmy grinned. “My lord, allow me to present my long-time friend, Sir Kenneth Fraser. Kenneth, this is the Earl of Merevale.”
Aye, Kenneth was well aware. Everard Trentham had been one of his superiors at the Home Office for years. The fact he was marrying and retiring did nothing to diminish his air of cool competence.
Kenneth inclined his head, pretending he didn’t know the man, hadn’t worked with him on a number of occasions. “Milord, a distinct pleasure.”
“Pleasure is all mine,” Merevale intoned formally, as if they hadn’t colluded just yesterday on the plans for tonight’s infiltration. He flicked his finger toward a waiting footman,pretending he had no care beyond ordering a drink for his “new friend”.
Kenneth could tell the Earl wanted to know if his mission had been successful, but with Remmy so observant, the best he could manage was the slightest shake of his head. The older man’s expression tightened in what Kenneth assumed was disappointment, but he smoothly changed the subject.
“Our mutual friend was bemoaning his grand folly.”
“TheGrand Folly,” Remmy corrected, then shook his head. “I—the theater needs the publicity.” The normally good-natured man toyed with his drink as he dropped back in his chair. There were discarded cards before both men, as if they’d given up playing. “I’m getting desperate.”
Kenneth winced, hating how dejected his friend sounded. “Does yer publicity have to be for somethinggood?”
“If you’re suggesting we make the papers because of an outbreak of the pox among the ballet corps, I’ll ask for another idea,” Remmy said with a scowl, promoting a snort of what might have been muffled laughter from Merevale.
Och, aye; one of the rumors surrounding Remmy’s theater was hisfondnessfor the actresses. Kenneth had never confirmed his friend’s predilections; he saw no reason to police another man’s sexual escapades, lest they attempt to police his.
But the thought sparked an idea. “Does the publicity have to be about thetheater?”
To his surprise, Merevale shifted forward in his seat, “I was about to suggest the same thing, actually.”
Remmy perked up, but all three men quieted for a moment when a servant placed a glass of brandy before Kenneth. Apparently Standish hadn’t mentioned Kenneth’s supposed intoxication to anyone.
“Let’s hear your idea, my lord,” Remmy prompted eagerly.
Merevale’s grin was easy, and Kenneth was struck by the fact that, for the first time he could recall, his superior seemedhappy. At ease.
Well, falling in love did that to a man. Kenneth would know; he’d been in love plenty of times. With a different woman every night, some months. Falling in love was easy. Falling out of love was easier.
It was why he’d never bothered to mention the wholein lovething to any of his lovers. Easier that way, to walk away when the inevitable happened.
“Well,” Merevale began, “my life took a distinctly interesting turn when I was featured in the gossip columns.”
“Och, aye,” Kenneth cut in, “theRake Review!” He grinned at Merevale, as if he hadn’t teased the man mercilessly at the time—before remembering that he was supposed to have just met him. “I remember—they called yeTipsy Trentham! That brazen Belle identified ye as a rake, and ultimately, that’s what led to yer marriage!”
