Page 110 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl
“It might still be worth looking into,” Latimer proposed.
Dynevor nodded. “I’ll have my brother-in-law, Steele, look into it. But I’m telling you. That’s not what’s at play here.”
After Latimer excused himself, Wakefield and Dynevor were left alone in the private suites.
The two earls sized one another up. One warily. For Dynevor, he made no attempt to conceal his disgust.
Wakefield edged his chest forward. “Do you have something to say?”
“Yea, I have something to say,” the street-hardened proprietor said emotionlessly. “Since you clapped eyes on Miss Alby, your wits gone begging after her.”
A muscle twitched in Wakefield’s jaw.
“You want to deny it.” Dynevor’s eyes lit with a mocking glint. “Go ahead and try. Say it, Wakefield.” The earl flicked a glance up and down his person. “But I was talking business to ye that night, and you couldn’t stop staring at her like a lad at a sweetshop window.”
Wakefield recalled the first time his eyes locked with Cressida’s.
He’d been lost.
Dynevor knew it.
Wakefield closed his eyes. He was only just figuring it out for himself.
The younger earl sensed weakness. His stare held nothing but ruthless derision. “This ain’t the first time ye come in here in a rage, flying off the handle because of Miss Alby. Ye hired Markham to find out what he could about the young lady.”
Wakefield tried—and failed—to mask his surprise.
“Aye, that’s right.” Dynevor curved a scarred lip. “I know about that. I know about everything.”
“You know your problem?” the Earl of Dynevor said, each syllable a well-crafted slight.
Ah, they were going to do this.
Wakefield gave a low, mirthless laugh. “I trust you intend to tell—”
“Yer so worried about trying to be better because why? Your papa pissed away his money and had bastards?” he said without recrimination. “Pfft. That’s the same as a Sunday in England. You’re always on your high-horse, making everyone else feel like lessers because you yourselffeelless. That lady whose secrets you’ve been hunting down?” He gave his head a shake. “She doesn’t deserve that.”
The absolute brutality of the truth knocked the wind out of him, and Wakefield took an involuntary step back.
His breathing grew thin and reedy; it filled his ears. My God, he’d spent his life trying to be better than his father, trying to be a good and honorable man. He’d become so obsessed with that goal,solost in it, he’d lost himself.
What was it Markham said at their initial meeting?
“…Various circumstances drive every person. Maybe the lady landing in your bed doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with you specifically. Perhaps the lady is in some other kind of trouble. Perhaps there’s a villainous family member whom she’s trying to escape from. Who the hell knows? But again, all you need do is put out discrete feelers, and you’ll have every last answer…”
Wakefield dragged both hands down his haggard face.
“Ye wanna know why I offered ye the lady, Wakefield?”
Wakefield let his arms fall. “I have wondered.”
“The minute I met the lady, I knew she wasn’t like our clientele. I knew she was desperate. I’ve been desperate,” the earl said bluntly. “Desperate people have a way of finding each other. She wasn’t leaving. Some fellow was going to get her that night. I knew you’d be good to her.”
Chuckling, Dynevor fished a cheroot from his jacket pocket and touched it to a nearby sconce.
“I knew you’d be good to the lady.” The young man pulled a long breath through the leaf and loosed a slow curl of smoke on a smooth exhale. “I just didn’t think you’d treat her like you were too goodforher.” A sneer lived in the stillness of his smile. “That was my mistake.”
The younger earl’s profession sucked the air from Wakefield lungs like the man had dealt a gut punch.
