Home > A Season for Treason(6)

A Season for Treason(6)
Author: Golden Angel

Leaning against the jam, Rex nodded to Cormack. “Go find Warrick. I will wait here.”

Paling further, Mitchell took another step back. He was likely remembering Rex’s vivid description of how he could detach Mitchell’s balls from his body if the man ever darkened his doorstep again. Rex grinned at him wolfishly as Cormack disappeared into the house, and Mitchell took another step back.

They stared at each other, Rex impassive and Mitchell avoiding his gaze while shifting his weight, clearly uncomfortable.

Good.

It took only a few minutes before Warwick appeared, and by that time, Mitchell had shifted himself down to the edge of the lawn. Without the hedge blocking his way, he might have gone even further.

“What are you doing here?” Warwick asked, clearly aggrieved, raking a hand through his dark hair. He looked at Rex. “I did not know he would be coming. He was told not to come.” Clearly, Warwick did not want to risk his own position with the Society.

“I did not have a choice. I needed to see you.” Mitchell’s voice was whining, and his eyes shifted between Rex and Warwick nervously. “Privately.”

“Very well.” Warwick stepped out, glancing over his shoulder. “I will only be a few minutes, I assure you.”

Rex stepped back as Warwick closed the door behind him. It could be he was honoring the Society’s privacy by not even requesting Mitchell be allowed back in the house, but being shut out still left a bad taste in Rex’s mouth.

He moved over to the window to watch Warwick and Mitchell move several meters away to just outside the carriage Mitchell must have traveled in, ensuring they would not be overheard. Whatever they were discussing, they were doing so intensely. Mitchell was clearly anxious and Warwick either frustrated or angry—perhaps both.

Cormack sidled up beside him, scowling out the window at the pair.

“I don’ like it.”

“Me, neither,” Rex admitted. He frowned as the two men outside bent their heads closer together. Like it or not, there was not much he could do about it. Warwick was not breaking any rules by continuing to associate with Mitchell—in fact, such an association likely helped ensure Mitchell was watched over—but it made his skin itch.

“Lady Hester has been entertaining Warwick this week, yes?” Rex murmured. The lady’s inclinations were as extreme as Warwick’s, and they often paired off at events. Strangely, outside of the bedroom, the two did not get along and were often at loggerheads.

“Aye.” Cormack nodded. “I’ll ask Lily to have a word with her.”

Mistress Lily Maple, Rex’s housekeeper, formerly a lightskirt from one of the exclusive palaces in London, had a deft hand with a crop and often paired off with Cormack during the evening when she was finished running the household. She ran both the staff and Cormack with an iron fist.

“Probably should not tell her until Mitchell is off the premises.” She was likely to go after the man with a whip. Very protective of her maids was Mistress Maple, and she had been unhappy to have missed out on Mitchell’s punishment when he’d been banished. It would not be unlike her to decide to get a few licks in now.

“Rex?” A feminine voice floated down through the foyer, and both Cormack and Rex jerked around, looking up to the top of the staircase. Lady Abernathy stood there, now wearing a loose gown, with Viscountess Weymouth beside her, similarly clothed. “Lucas and Roger are quarreling over Walter in the parlor, and it is becoming rather heated.”

Suppressing a groan, Rex shook his head before looking at Cormack.

“Keep an eye on Warwick and Mitchell. Make sure Mitchell leaves, then talk to the Mistress.”

“Yes, Sir.” Cormack didn’t salute, but he did click his heels together, as he often did when issued an order.

Reluctantly, Rex took to the stairs, where Ladies Abernathy and Weymouth had already vanished, sure he would take care of the matter. It wasn’t as if he could do anything more about Warwick and Mitchell right now, anyway, and he was the only one who could handle Lucas when he became belligerent.

Last year, Lucas had fancied himself in love, sponsoring Walter Hood’s membership to the Society and taking the young man under his wing. Unfortunately, Lucas’ love did not guarantee faithfulness, and the two had broken apart during the summer.

Respecting the Society’s unspoken rules, they had stayed well apart since then, but Walter Hood and the Earl of Perth had been circling around each other for weeks, and Lucas had been growing increasingly jealous every time the group gathered. Too bad Carlisle and Collins had not been able to keep Lucas suitably entertained, but Collins and Lucas did not get on well either.

If it was not one thing, it was another. At least Cormack could keep an eye on Warwick and Mitchell, even though it irked Rex not to be able to watch them himself.

The raised voices reached his ears before he reached the parlor. He cursed under his breath as he heard the slight slur in Lucas’ voice, indicating he was deep in his cups. Alcohol made his friend’s temper much worse.

“Do you want me jealous, Walter? Well done, you did it. Now what?”

“Contrary to your belief, Lucas, my actions do not revolve around you.” Hood’s tone was calm, aloof, which would normally have been a good thing, but his very indifference was likely to be a larger prod to Lucas’ pride than anger would have been. Rex strode through the door, taking in the scene with a glance. Thankfully, most of the room had emptied, most of them likely retreating as the potential for drama soared. Unlike most of the ton, members of the Society were far more interested in their pleasures than the drama of jealous ex-lovers. The only ones left were Carlisle and Collins, still watching the confrontation between Hood, Perth, and Lucas.

“How does Perth feel about being used by you?” Lucas taunted. He was half-dressed, his breeches still undone, face flushed with temper, and fists clenched by his side.

In contrast, Hood looked almost bored, and Rex had to wonder if it was an affectation designed to get under Lucas’ skin. Perhaps, although Rex thought it far more likely, Hood truly did not care anymore—not for Lucas nor his feelings—and saw no reason to pretend otherwise. Perth, in contrast, had his arm around Hood’s waist, and his jaw was clenched, as if he wanted to say something but was letting Hood fight his own battle. Rex had to respect that.

The two of them were much more suited to each other than Lucas had been to Hood. Anyone with eyes could see Hood had been looking for a monogamous relationship, which Lucas was incapable of.

Still on the couch, Carlisle was watching the argument with narrowed eyes, stroking Collins’ hair as the other man leaned his head against Carlisle’s knee. Upon Rex’s arrival, he nodded his head and got to his feet, holding out his hand for Collins to take.

“Lucas.” Rex’s voice was repressive. Carlisle and Collins skirted around the standoff, exiting the room. “May I have a word?”

Instead of answering, Lucas kept glaring at the other two men. Hood and Perth both turned toward him, however.

“Rex,” Perth said respectfully. The only audible sign of his anger was his Scottish brogue was thicker than usual.

“Our apologies for interrupting your evening.” Hood nodded his head in a manner that was almost a bow, his black hair sliding forward over dark eyes before he lifted his head. Lucas watched the movement longingly. He clearly still desired Hood, but he would have to gain better control of his emotions. Hood clearly wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

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