Chapter
Twelve
By the time Cass returned to the ballroom Hattie, her sisters and Lady Fosberry were gone. It was just as well, as the evening’s scandal was already making its way from every mouth to every ear.
And it had already made it to Hayward’s ear, judging by his grim expression.
As soon as Hayward saw him approaching he signaled to Cass to follow him, turned on his heel and left the ballroom. He didn’t say a word as they waited for Hayward’s carriage to be brought, and the ride from Lady Dumfries’s ball to Cass’s townhouse in Mount Street also passed in utter silence.
Neither of them moved when Massey stopped the carriage outside Cass’s townhouse in Mount Street. Hayward sat in one corner of the carriage, his every appendage stiff in a silent mutiny, his knees locked together, and his arms crossed over his chest. If he could have crossed his upper and lower lip he certainly would have, but instead he settled for pinching them tightly together.
It wasn’t the first time Hayward had been angry with him. He’d been subjected to Hayward’s pinched-lipped glare on any number of occasions. Hayward had his own private senseof proper behavior, despite his mildly rakish tendencies. In his friend’s estimation, there were certain things a gentleman simply did notdo.
Brawling at a private ball was one of them.
Cass’s own moral code was a touch flimsier than Hayward’s, and so he’d never troubled himself much with his friend’s fits and tempers. They’d always had an unspoken agreement that Hayward was welcome to disapprove of him, and Cass was welcome to ignore that disapproval.
But this time he couldn’t abide his friend’s seething discontent.
This time, it was different. This time, it wasn’t his gaming, or his drunkenness, or his tendency to dally with a lady he’d much better not have dallied with that had earned him Hayward’s ire.
Yes, he’d engaged in a brawl at a ball, and half of Lady Dumfries’s guests had witnessed Egerton stumbling into the ballroom looking as if he’d been trampled by a horse.
By tomorrow morning, all of London would know of it.
Was it his finest moment? No. But this time, for the first time since he’d come to London, Casswasn’tashamed of his behavior. Egerton hadhurtHattie. The man was a villain, and it was well past time someone held him to account for it.
Still, he wasn’t immune to Hayward’s silence, and he’d rather have it out between them sooner than later. “I sense a lecture in the making, Hayward. You may as well get it over with.”
Hayward raised an eyebrow but stubbornly maintained his stoic silence.
“At least the gossips will be pleased with me. I daresay the scandal sheets will enjoy a brisk business tomorrow morning. Thetondoes love a brawl.”
Hayward glared at him, but his lips remained closed.
“Nothing at all to say, Hayward? No sermons or speeches? No treatise on the proper way for a gentleman to conduct himself? Thatisunusual. I expected a reprimand, at least.”
Nothing. Not even a sternly raised eyebrow.
Cass sighed. “Very well, Hayward. Massey will take you on to the Albany. Massey, if you’d be so good as to take Lord Hayward on to Piccadilly?—”
“If you’d be so good as to wait here for me, Massey,” Hayward interrupted. “Lord Windham and I are going to have a chat first. I won’t be long.”
That was a bald-faced lie. Hayward had never delivered a short lecture in his life.
Exhaustion was catching up to Cass, a heavy weariness seeping through the cracks, and he wanted his bed more than anything, but there was no arguing with Hayward’s grim tone. Even if he’d had a mind to, Hayward was already out of the carriage and striding up the steps to the front door, and there was little he could do but accept his fate and trail after his friend to his study.
His moment of reckoning had come at last. A bit overdue, really, all told.
Hayward didn’t bother to light a lamp but went directly to the sideboard and helped himself to a splash of brandy. He drank it down quickly, then poured two more, and handed one to Cass before planting himself in front of the fireplace.
He still didn’t speak but stood there as silent as a cipher and as stiff as the fireplace pokers in the rack beside him, his stern gaze fixed on Cass.
Ah. So, they were back to seething disapproval, then.
For God’s sake, why didn’t Hayward say something? Cass squirmed as the silence stretched between them, until he could stand it no longer and snapped, “Well, Hayward? You’ve clearlygot something to say, so you may as well say it, and put us both out of our misery.”
“Very well, Windham, since you insist.” Hayward tossed back his brandy, placed the empty glass on the mantel, then turned to face Cass. “Would you care to explain what happened with Egerton? Because from what I can see it looks as if you made an utter cake of yourself tonight.”
