"Are you still put out about what happened during Sutton's coming-out year?" Malcolm laughed. Logan lowered his paper, glaring at the ass and happy to see his amusement slip.
He cleared his throat. "You know I could not confess to Sutton of such a crime. She would never have forgiven me, and she needs me more than you. I am her blood. Her brother. You were dispensable."
"Forever the selfish ass, are you not? I adored her, and you knew that. Yet you allowed me to take the fall, made me a liar in her eyes when I tried to tell her the truth. You stole those letters from my library. They were not yours to take."
Two bright spots appeared on Malcolm's cheeks, but still, he continued to excuse his actions. "How was I to know she would be so angry over the matter? She has always looked up to me. I could not tell her the wrong I had done, that I had stolen them from you. Best that I kept my mouth closed. You were never going to marry her anyway. It was her first Season, and you were but one and twenty. No one marries at that age."
I would have married her at that age.
And he was certain his marriage would have been a happy one. Not that there was a chance for reconciliation now. Sutton despised liars and thieves. Her parents had died at the hands of highwaymen, stealing what was most precious from her family. In that one night, when she found out her letters were common knowledge, he had become both a villain and liar in her estimation.
"You knew what I felt for her, that I would have married her. Had you taken responsibility, she would have forgiven you in time. You are blood, her brother, as you say. I was not. I had more to lose than you, and yet you allowed the lie to drop like an anvil on my shoulders. You're an ass whom I ought to call out. The only reason I do not is that after all that has passed between Sutton and me, I still care for her enough to not want her to be left alone in this world without a sibling."
Howard swallowed, appearing decidedly nervous. "Come, man. We must be friends again. Let me try to help you gain her trust and love. I'm certain I can repair the wedge between you."
"You will do nothing," Logan seethed. "You have done quite enough." He lifted his paper, putting an end to the conversation. "Your friends are waiting. Leave." His voice brooked no argument, and he was pleased when Malcolm stood and left and did not argue the point further.
He scanned the paper, the many articles, but read none of them. He did not want Sutton back and certainly did not need Malcolm's help in gaining her attention. This Season he was looking for new blood, fresh opportunities, and possibly affection if he were so fortunate. What he had with Sutton was in the past, and his future would not include her. She no longer trusted him, and he could not force her to believe him. He had tried that before and failed. He had no time for people who were quick to judge without seeking their own truth first.
Chapter 3
Sutton's card was full, and she had danced every dance from the beginning of the Troetott ball. As theWallflower's Guidehad advised, her improved gowns, attitude, and enthusiasm in meeting new gentlemen seemed to be working a treat so far.
Thankfully the last few events she had attended, she had not seen Lord Jersey, and was free to dance, flirt, and talk to her heart's content and not worry about his lordship smirking or laughing at her as he once had.
"I ran into Lord Jersey today at Whites. A very revealing conversation if I must say so myself," her brother declared as he stood beside her, watching his wife dance with her sibling.
Sutton did not care what conversations took place between her brother and his once best friend, but then, curiosity got the better of her. After seeing Lord Jersey herself earlier that day, she wanted to know if he mentioned their running into each other. "Oh, did you? Whatever did he have to say for himself?" she asked, her tone feigning disinterest.
"He's here to find a wife, apparently," Malcolm said, distaste in his tone.
A prickle of despair ran through her at the thought of Logan marrying another. She had wanted to be his bride, so very desperately. "That is nice," she heard herself say, not meaning a word of it.
"He would not apologize for his treatment toward you. I thought after six years, I would seek an apology for you, try to settle things between us and start fresh, but he is not interested. He blames me still, the fool, when I did not steal or pass about your letters to anyone of our acquaintance."
Sutton threw her brother a small smile. "I know you did nothing wrong, brother. Lord Jersey is the liar and will stay that way, in my opinion. You should not seek him out. I think we should remain past acquaintances and nothing more."
"I think you may be right," Malcolm said, just as his wife returned, flushed and smiling after her dance. Sutton watched as Malcolm led his wife back onto the floor for a minuet.
She checked her gown as she waited to be asked to dance herself. Her attire this evening was one of her finest and had cost a small fortune to make. It was made of white silk with gold embroidery about the hem, sleeves, and bosom. The empire gown fell from high on her waist and was the epitome of fashion and flattering to any figure. The attention that had been lavished on her so far this evening told her that her new gowns were worth the trouble and effort—theWallflower’s Guidepromoting a new wardrobe as one of the best investments a lady could make. If she caught a husband at the end of the season, she would wholeheartedly agree.
She fought to forget what her brother said about his conversation with Logan, not wanting his cold, indifferent opinion on breaking her heart to ruin her night. He could go off and marry another. As far as she was concerned, he could go to the devil.
Liar.
Sutton sipped a glass of Madeira and waited for the last dance to end before supper was served.
"Miss Howard, we meet again. I'm glad to see no long-term injury was sustained when you fell at my feet earlier today," a familiar voice said at her left. His speech, jovial and deep, sent a thrill through her blood she wished she no longer experienced when in his presence.
She did not want to respond to him at all. She needed to find a husband. Another man who made the blood thrum in her veins. Her body to ache and crave as it once did with the fiend beside her.
She scoffed. "Fell? More like an ogre stepped in my way and knocked me down. I would never purposefully fall at your feet, not anymore, my lord."
He clasped his chest, his lips lifting in a smile. "Oh, you wound me, but then, that is not uncommon for you, and you should be well-versed in doing so."
She narrowed her eyes, not appreciating the veiled barb. "What do you want, Logan? Isn't there a silk skirt nearby you could lift and irritate elsewhere?"
He leaned close, his lips inappropriately near her neck. "Like your silk skirts, Sutton? Do you remember that night?"