Another thing bothered Tristan. Effie might have lied to him about her father’s whereabouts. Or maybe her father had lied to her. Why he cared about that insignificant detail, he couldn’t tell.Perhaps because he hadn’t thought she was capable of deceit. But then again, he couldn’t expect her to show him loyalty.
George exhaled. “Winchester will be at Lord Vaughan’s ball next week. You must go.”
“Must?” He gritted out. “Are you giving me orders now?”
George’s dark eyes flashed. “The day you show some common sense and stop letting strangers use you as a punching bag, I’ll stop telling you what to do. Right now, I don’t trust your judgement.”
“Get the hell out. That’s my judgement.”
George didn’t flinch. “Your father would be ashamed of you.”
“Father would be happy to see the progress we made to rebuild our fortune.”
“He cared more about you.” George’s tone was too serious to answer back, and he spoke the truth.
“What I do in my free time is none of your business, especially since it doesn’t have consequences on my work.”
“It does.” George exhaled. “I’m disappointed. All those expensive tutors, schools, and books, and you haven’t learnt the most important lesson about business and life.”
“Which is? Enlighten me.”
George stood up and finished his scotch. “Five hundred soldiers can’t win against five thousand, but five hundred friends can. It’s from theHagakure, the samurai’s handbook. Good night, Tristan. I hope your personal bloodbath was worth it.”
Tristan rubbed his face when George left. Damn George and his books. And his truth.
Father wasn’t there; he couldn’t ask him what he did or didn’t want. And his twitch was starting again.
