Montrose’s patronizing grin dropped. He didn’t seem to know what to say in reply to that.
Joseph went on. “I read a few interesting articles in the papers this morning about certain land development deals that have been taking place in the area around Fitzrovia. It would be a shame if those deals fell through, since there are so many hopes and so much investment resting on them.”
Montrose regained his composure and returned to his sneering smile. “Very clever, lad,” he said. “I find it charming that you believe you have the power to do anything about the financial dealings of men far more important than you.”
“I’m certain you do,” Joseph laughed lightly in return. Inwardly, he bristled with frustration. He wanted to lash out at the man, accuse him of villainy, and devastate him with a few, choice words. The calm, clever approach took so much more concentration. “I am certain you find me quite diverting, but it would be a mistake on your part to underestimate me.”
Montrose smirked and shook his head. He took a step toward Joseph and lowered his voice to say, “You are nothing but a meddling child who is trying to erase your father’s sins in order to gain the approval from him you so desperately need. You are never going to gain that approval, though, because your father is nothing but a lecherous, debauched spendthrift who was known to lament to his friends that his youngest whelp was a complete milksop and a waste of his time. He always said, and I rather agree, that you will never amount to anything.”
Joseph fought against the feeling that Montrose had raised a gun to his heart and fired.
“Go away and play with your sweet little toys,” Montrose went on, flicking a glance to Ellen. “The only way you can ever truly please your father is by being the good little boy that he always wanted. Spare the rest of us your paltry attempts at manhood.”
Joseph thought for a moment that Montrose would say more. He had no idea what, if anything, he would have been able to do about it, since he was too stunned by Montrose’s words to form any of his own. But Montrose glanced past Joseph, saw something, then frowned and tensed.
Without another word, Montrose turned and all but raced toward the nearest cab waiting to be hired. Moments later, the cab pulled away from the curb and Montrose was gone.
Joseph continued to stand where he was, not quite able to draw breath. He didn’t want Montrose’s words to sting, but he doubted anyone who had ever been shot at close range wanted the bullet to pierce their flesh either. Had his father truly said those things about him? Had every ounce of the effort he had spent working to gain his father’s approval in his life so far truly been a waste? Why had he given so much of himself to a man who didn’t even like him?
“Joseph?” Ellen’s soft tug on his arm brought him back to his senses.
He turned to look at her, then followed her glance as she stared back down the street in the direction from which they’d come.
Joseph was surprised to find Mr. Long heading toward them along with Mrs. Mercer and the woman who had been with her earlier. A blink later, and Joseph realized Montrose must have seen Long, and that was why he’d fled.
“Morning, Mr. Rathborne-Paxton,” Long greeted Joseph in his booming voice as he and the ladies drew near. “Having a bit of fun playing with reptiles this morning, are we?”
It took Joseph a few moments for his brain to catch up to the fact that Long was calling Montrose a snake. It took him another second or two to shake himself out of the stupor of hurt Montrose had inflicted on him.
“Miss Garrett and I saw Montrose speaking with an accomplice,” he explained, feeling like he was dragging himself out of a haze of drunkenness of some sort. He couldn’t allow himself to wallow in the misery and doubt Montrose had inflicted on him, though.
“We thought perhaps he had something to do with the mischief Montrose wants to cause with the Duke of Westminster’s building contract,” Ellen added.
Mrs. Mercer looked surprised that her sister would know anything about building contracts. Long looked surprised too, but in that delighted sort of way the man had always had in the few times Joseph had interacted with him.
“Sounds exciting,” Long said. He glanced across the street, nodding to a pub, and said, “Why don’t we pop into The Golden Stag for a drink and you can tell me all about it.”
Ellen blinked in astonishment, though she looked intrigued by the idea as well. Joseph wasn’t as certain.
“Are you sure it’s wise to go to a pub at such an early hour?” he asked. “And with three ladies present? Are they even allowed in?” He turned to Mrs. Mercer’s friend and said, “I am terribly sorry, ma’am, I do not know you.”
Long surprised Joseph by laughing loudly and sliding closer to the woman to throw an arm around her shoulders, as if she were a barmaid and not a finely-dressed lady. “This is my wife,” he told Joseph, grinning at the woman as though she’d hung the moon. “This is Mrs. Phoebe Long, the most wonderful woman in the entire world.” He even went so far as to steal a quick kiss from her lips, even though it made a fussy-looking matron who happened to be passing at the time gasp in indignation. “And I own that pub,” he went on, gesturing across the street. “So they’d better let me and the ladies in.”
There was something buoyant about Long that lifted Joseph and put enough energy in his steps to follow Long, his wife, and Mrs. Mercer across the street. Ellen was still on his arm, and considering the fast turnabout from determination to humiliation to confusion that he’d just gone through, he didn’t have the wherewithal to let her go.
“I thought you deported yourself well,” Ellen whispered to him as they crossed the street and entered the pub. “But I am still furious with you for everything you said outside of the fashion parade,” she added with a frown. Her eyes sparkled with excitement and affection in spite of her scowl, though.
Long took the five of them to a table at the very back of the pub, where they could be relatively sheltered from its other patrons, and where they were well out of view of anyone on the street. The barkeep was quick to serve them, and without asking, several warm and savory lunchtime dishes were brought out and spread across the table.
“Eat up, love,” Long told his wife, sliding a meat pie in front of her. “You know you need your strength for the little one.” He grinned at her with a shockingly lascivious grin and wiggled his eyebrows, then threw his arm around her shoulders again.
“Stop being horrible, Danny,” Mrs. Long said, shaking her head as though she were very much used to his crass ways. She glanced across the table to Mrs. Mercer and said, “Do you see what I mean?”
Joseph would have found the conversation remarkable, but his head was still reeling from his encounter with Montrose. He was a bit surprised that Ellen hadn’t reacted to the startling interaction of husband and wife either, but she was busy frowning at the meat pie in front of her and picking at it with her fork.
“Alright,” Long said as though they were in the middle of a conversation. “Since it’s obviously eating at you, tell me what went wrong with your confrontation with Montrose.”
Joseph glanced warily across the table at his friend. Had it been that obvious that things had gone wrong?