“I must surmise,” Roxburghe said, appearing at the rear of Levi’s coach, “that your presence at this club means Mr. Philbert did not depart your house as we hoped.”
“My appearance has nothing to do with him,” Levi said, joining Roxburghe on the sidewalk.
“Would it be regarding the article about an unnamed gentleman and Miss Rowe?—”
“Braddock,” Levi said, leading Roxburghe toward the gentleman’s club.
“Pardon?” Roxburghe stretched his arm across the doorway, preventing Levi from entering. “Miss Rowe is Miss Braddock?”
Levi nodded his head once. “Miss Helena Rowe is actually Miss Eveline Braddock. A fact I discovered from her brother just after I proposed.”
He shoved Roxburghe’s arm away, jerked open the door, and marched inside, heading straight for his favorite corner. Selecting the chair nearest a small, beveled window, Levi flopped down and stared through the glass at the white blanket of fluff coating a neighboring garden.
The clink of glass drew his attention, and Levi glanced over, his eyes dropping to a half-filled glass of sherry on a small table beside the chair.
“You said you proposed.” Roxburghe sat in the other chair and sipped his drink. “Have you lost our wager?”
“Certainly not! I withdrew my request when I learned of her deception.” Levi lifted the sherry, drained the liquid in one gulp, and slammed the glass back on the table. “As any sane man would have done.”
“What was her reason for the falsehood?” Roxburghe asked, studying Levi over the brim of his cup.
“She didn’t give one.”
“Or you didn’t ask…” Roxburghe swirled his glass.
“What would you have done had Miss Webb lied about her name and her past?” Levi asked, leaning forward and lowering his voice.
“I’m a fool in love. It wouldn’t have swayed my affection,” Roxburghe replied, saluting Levi, then swallowing half of the glass’ contents.
Levi grimaced as the memory of his promise to Miss Braddock echoed through his mind.
“And,” Roxburghe pointed his glass at Levi, “she did lie to me… about the cruel treatment she and her sister were subjected to at the hand of their mother, but she had a viable reason.”
“Which was?” Levi toyed with his empty glass.
“She didn’t trust me.”
His jaw dropped. “You don’t agree with my decision?”
Roxburghe set his glass on the small table between their chairs.
“For someone who needed a mound of evidence to accept his house was haunted by Mr. Philbert’s spirit, you’ve given up on the prospect of happiness without any complaint.”
“I wasn’t ha?—”
“You were!” Roxburghe’s outburst drew the attention of several men seated nearby.
He gestured an apology to the glares slithering in their direction, waited until the men resumed their conversations, and then leaned in.
“Miss Rowe, Braddock, whatever her name may be, encouraged a lightness I haven’t seen in you since your father passed.”
“She. Lied. To. Me.”
“Have you been truthful in all your interactions with her?” Roxburghe arched his eyebrows.
A commotion at the front of the club drew their attention, and each man held his tongue, attempting to decipher the words reverberating through the front lobby.
“I must speak with the Duke of Lennox!” Mr. Braddock’s blond head appeared in the doorway as he struggled to fight past the footmen restraining his arms.
