Damn it, what the devil was her name again? Lady Emilia? Lady Emily, wasn’t it, or…Lady Emma?
Lyndon snorted. “That’s what I thought. You can’t marry Lady Esther—”
“Esther? Is that it?” How odd. The name didn’t sound even vaguely familiar.
“You can’t marry Lady Esther if you’re besottedwith Miss Mon—”
“Besotted!” Tristan jerked upright in his seat. “Are you mad? I’m not besotted with her, Lyndon.”
Lyndon raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon. I was under the impression you were.”
“No. Iwanther. Desire her. Can you blame me? You saw her. It’s a purely physical urge, for God’s sake, not an emotional one. I’ve never come across a more stubborn, quarrelsome lady in my life. How could I possibly be besotted with her?”
The very notion was ridiculous. He’d never permit himself to become enamored with a willful, unpredictable, reckless termagant like Sophia Monmouth. No, when he decided it was time for him to become enamored with someone, he’d choose much more wisely than that. He preferred quiet, proper sorts of ladies, not unruly ones likeMiss Monmouth.
Ladies very much like Lady Emilia, in fact.
Esther, that is. Lady Esther.
Lyndon might know a great deal more about romantic entanglements than Tristan did—he’d had enough mistresses he should have learnedsomethingby now—but he was wrong about this.
“Very well, Gray. If you say you’re not besotted with Miss Monmouth, then I have no choice but to believe you. I beg your pardon. It seems I misunderstood the depths ofyour feelings.”
Tristan eyed his friend suspiciously. Lyndon had the most peculiar look on his face, as if he were doing his best to hold back a smirk.
“It’s just as well you’re not besotted with her. She’s more trouble than she’s worth, I daresay. Indeed, I don’t see why you don’t simply leave London for Oxfordshire at once. I imagine your mother is in fits by now, and anyone can see you’re expiring with impatience to see LadyEsther again.”
“I won’t leave London, Lyndon. Not until I’ve seen Henry’s murderer dangling at the end of a rope. I’ve got Abigail and Samuel’s welfare to consider, as well.”
“Of course,” Lyndon murmured, his face softening at mention of Henry and his family. “But that hasn’t anything to do with Miss Monmouth. It’s no concern of yours if she’s in danger. She’s not your responsibility.”
Tristan was well aware Lyndon was manipulating him, but it didn’t stop a thread of unease from winding through him. He’d been in a bit of a daze since he’d left the Clifford School this morning. His hard, sharp focus had been blunted with frustration and one too many glasses of port, but at Lyndon’s words it returned with a vengeance.
“Pity she should have been so foolish as to get involved in this mess with Peter Sharpe, but it’s her own fault.” Lyndon shrugged. “She only has herself to blame for it if Sharpe comes after her. I assume he got a look at her when she planted herlocket on him?”
“He did.” Peter Sharpe had gotten a lengthy look at a face most men would find it difficult to forget. Even if Sharpe didn’t realize she’d been following him for weeks, he still had reason enough to resent her, given the scoundrels in front of Ye Old Mitre Pub had nearly kicked his head inat her bidding.
Sharpe was a liar, and a man without scruples or conscience. He’d been perfectly happy to see Jeremy Ives hang for a crime Sharpe knew damn well the boy hadn’t committed. But Sharpe was a fool, and also a coward. He was utterly incapable of devising a complex scheme like the one that had trapped Ives, and just as incapable of carrying it out.
For all his viciousness, Sharpe was a pawn, not a king.
Sophia could manage a man like Sharpe easily enough, but the fourth man Jeremy Ives had spoken of, the one who’dmurdered Henry…
He was another sort of man entirely.
A villain such as that, one who’d slit an innocent man’s throat and stand by while his life’s blood seeped into the dirt—that sort of man was capable of anything, and Tristan didn’t doubt he knew all about Sophia.
He shot to his feet, unable to sit still amoment longer.
“I see you understand me, Gray.” Lyndon finished off the rest of his port.
Tristan recalled what he’d told Sophia this morning, and a dry laugh rose to his lips. “I told Miss Monmouth her part in this thing was over, and warned her to stayaway from me.”
“A bit hasty, that, but I shouldn’t worry too much, Gray. I doubt she’ll listen. Miss Monmouth isn’t the sort to take orders from you. Well then, this has been a tidy night’s work, if I do say so myself.” Lyndon rose to his feet. “I’ll take my leave now. You will send word if you find yourself in needof assistance?”
“Yes, yes.” Tristan stopped his pacing and lifted hishead. “Lyndon?”
“Yes?” Lyndon paused by the door.
