What if she hadn’t lost her slipper, and he hadn’t been able to find her? What if he’d arrived five minutes later than he had? Or ten? God above, but he couldn’t bear to think of it.
“Egerton got what he deserved, Hayward. He’s villain and shouldn’t be tolerated in decent society.”
But thetonhad never been particularly discriminating when it came to aristocratic gentlemen, particularly those with money. They’d tolerated his father, hadn’t they?
They’d toleratedhim.
“I don’t dispute it, Windham. Only the worst sort of monster would hurt a lady.”
Cass threw himself back into his chair, suddenly drained. “What do you think would have happened if I hadn’t found her when I did, Hayward?”
The very thought of what that blackguard might have done to Hattie made his stomach roil with rage and fear, but he kept his grip on his glass, because throwing it into the grate was too much like something his father would have done.
“You’ll drive yourself mad with that question, Windham. Best not to ask it at all. You did find her, and that’s what matters.”
Cass said nothing, only stared into his glass, avoiding his friend’s eyes.
“I don’t blame you for any of this, Windham. You did what you had to do. I only wish it hadn’t happened in the middle of Lady Dumfries’s ballroom. There’s bound to be a scandal now, and you and Lady Harriet will be blamed for the incident far more than Egerton will.”
It was the truth. They would be blamed, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to protect Hattie from the gossips’ vicious tongues now. “If there’d been any way to handle it more discreetly, I would have, for her sake.”
“I know, Windham. You weren’t the villain tonight. Egerton was.”
“Yes, well, I hardly see myself as the hero in this scenario. Don’t think I don’t know that there’s very little difference between me and Egerton.”
Hayward stared at him. “For God’s sake, Windham, you’re nothing like Egerton!”
Cass startled at the shock in Hayward’s voice. “That was a point on which I thought we’d agree.”
“Are you mad? Of course, I don’t agree. Egerton is a lying, fortune-hunting, black-hearted scoundrel. Do you think I’d call a man like that my friend?”
“I…no? I never thought of it that way before.” Cass cleared the lump from his throat. “But I don’t?—”
Hayward held up his hand. “You have your irregularities, Windham, but you’re hardly a monster. You’re just a trifle misguided, and no wonder, with the father you had.”
“Misguided?” Cass laughed, but it was an ugly, broken sound. “I’m my father’s son, Hayward.”
Hayward didn’t reply right away. Cass held his breath as his friend sat staring into the dying fire, the pale orange light flickering over his face, until finally, Hayward turned to face him. “That’s pure bollocks, Windham.”
“How is it bollocks? I’m a Windham, Hayward, and if that isn’t bad enough, before I was a Windham I was a St. Giles guttersnipe. There isn’t a drop of worthy blood inside me.”
Hayward shook his head. “Those are your father’s words, not yours.”
“They’re both of our words. I’m just like?—”
“Stop it, Windham! For God’s sake, do you suppose your father would have gone to look for Lady Harriet tonight? Do you think he would have protected her as you did? He would have let Egerton drag her away and never given it a second thought. That’s what your father would have done. The man had no conscience. But you do. You always have.”
Was that true? God, he didn’t know. He didn’t know anything anymore, except that he’d tried to do the right thing by Hattie when he’d cut off their correspondence. He’d been so sure it would be better for her to be rid of him, and yet…
Would he ever be able to stay away from Hattie? She’d been a part of him for as long as he could remember, the best part ofhim. Ending their friendship was like an amputation, as if he’d ripped his still beating heart from his chest.
“Listen to me, Windham, and try and get this through your thick skull, will you? If you were anything like your father, you never would have fallen in love with Lady Harriet at all. He didn’t have the first idea what love was, but you…well, you’ve made a bloody mess of it, that’s certain, but that’s what gentlemen do when they fall in love. They make a mess of things.”
He’d certainly done that, hadn’t he? Although he’d had some help in that regard.
“Hattie thinks I’m the one who told Egerton about the letters she wrote to me.”
Hayward rolled his eyes. “Let me guess. Egerton told her that?”
