Page 47 of The Rake's Revenge
Judging from the swiftness of his answer, he appeared to have contemplated his reply ahead of time. “I do not condone what Kempton did, but a man in grief is irrational. You broke him.” The brusque words nearly made Amelia cringe.
“And, because of this, your loyalties have shifted?”
“Despite this, they have not. My loyalties have and always will lie with him. Believe it or not, I’m actually here to advocate for him.” She waited expectantly for him to continue. “Despite the years, Kempton has never stopped loving you. He went to you with less than purely noble intentions, but his love for you overcame them. He was so very wrong, but you must believe me;Kempton still loves you, and what happened has destroyed him all over again. This time, it will likely kill him. If you ever held love or true fondness for him, then for God’s sake, please know that I am now telling you the truth.”
Amelia waited several heartbeats before replying, “I know.”
This almost seemed to catch Brinley off guard. “Do you?”
“What Kempton did was cruel, but the fact remained that he changed. I’ve taken the time since his departure to think on everything he did while he was here. He took the time to know my son and bond with him. He used his own two hands to bury my dog—” Her voice broke, but she quickly regained her composure and continued. “He held me while I cried. He allowed his sister to stay behind here with me…something he never would have allowed if he did not trust me or believe in me. None of these are things a single-minded, evil man does, and that is why I am planning on leaving Scotland within the fortnight.”
“Brilliant!” Brinley slapped his thigh, a broad smile splitting his objectively beautiful features. “I will arrange a way for the two of you to meet, then.”
Before he could bid her farewell, Amelia asked, “Might there be anything else you wish to mention before you take your leave?” When he looked perplexed, she simply whispered, “Something to do with Lady Clara?” Immediately, Amelia narrowed her eyes, able to tell Brinley was keeping his expression carefully blank. The tapping of his long fingers on the arm of his chair told her he wasn’t as calm as he appeared.
“That…” he began and had to start again. “That should not have happened.”
“No,” Amelia agreed. “But it did. So, what will you do about it?”
“Nothing,” he said harshly. “Despite my intentions here, I am not an inherently good man. I am not an admirable man. WereI, then that would not have happened in the first place. I enjoy my lifestyle and pursuits far too much, and I am far too old to change now.” He politely inclined his head to her and stood. “I will contact you soon, Lady Coylton.”
As Amelia watched Brinley climb back into his carriage, she suspected—if only by his coming to her and his obvious need to make her believe in Dorian—that Brinley wasn’t as content with his life or as bad a man as he’d have everyone else believe.
Miserably surveying thecrush at the Aldborough ball, Dorian felt like a wooden doll performing predetermined motions. As he interacted with the other guests, partook in small talk, and feigned smiles, it all felt like an act. Though the Earl and Countess of Aldborough were kind and generous people, this would not have been his first choice of events to attend since leaving Scotland. There were too many familiar faces, too many people inquiring after his absence. The effort drained him enormously, but he knew he must return to Society sooner rather than later.
Suddenly, Brinley appeared at his elbow, looking as impeccably turned-out as always. Dorian was briefly overcome with anger, but it dissipated when he reminded himself that bloodshed in this sort of setting wasn’t the done thing.
“You are either very brave or very foolish,” Dorian said without looking at his friend.
“I prefer to think of myself as rather forward thinking,” Brinley replied jovially. “You wouldn’t kill a man with all these witnesses, so I am saved from a violent confrontation.”
Dorian was forced to incline his head in grudging agreement.
Several minutes of strained silence passed between them before Dorian spoke again. “I want to apologize. I have not always been a good friend—I have not been the person I should have been.”
A short, stunned pause followed before Brinley clapped him on his back and said, “Just do not kill me over Clara, and we will call ourselves even.”
“Do not ever touch my sister again, and I will consider it.”
“Fair enough.” Brinley’s eyes skimmed the crush, and he sighed. “Might I interest you in a breath of air and a cheroot?”
“God, yes,” Dorian muttered, relieved by both the prospect of being free from the crowd and that his friendship seemed to be on better footing than it had been in weeks. He might never forget that Brinley had kissed his sister, but it had been more than slightly disconcerting not having him to lean on. He knew he needed to be better in so many ways; he could start by being more forgiving and by being a more constant friend.
Once they were able to extricate themselves from the crowd, the men stood on the balcony at the back of the house overlooking the dark gardens. The moon was only a small sliver in the sky, providing little light for them, but they easily settled into the quiet comfort of their decades of friendship.
“Damn,” Brinley suddenly spat.
“What?” The word came out on a fragrant burst of smoke.
“I’ve just seen Swanleigh, and he owes me my winnings from the races last week. Excuse me.” Brinley was gone before Dorian could even form a protest.
Looking at the cheroot in his hand, Dorian decided to take his time and would return to the party when he was good and ready. For now, it was peaceful on that darkened balcony.
Just as he was about to be done, the doors opened behind him and cast a swath of golden light onto the balcony. “Did you catch Swanleigh?” Dorian asked without turning around, initially believing Brinley had returned to finish his cheroot.
There was no answer.
Confused, Dorian turned and found Amelia standing patiently and silently behind him. She wore a honey-gold gownthat was fitted to her bosom and skimmed the slim line of her hips. The crimson beading at the neckline and on her sleeves mimicked the rubies wrapped around her throat and dangling from her ears. To say he was stunned in more ways than one was an understatement of grand proportions.
