A Gentleman’s Position(86)

The silence hung heavy. Richard took two steps forward and put his hand on David’s shoulder. “You did right. There; that is all that is required of you. Thank you.”

“Lord Maltravers,” Lord Alvanley said, voice very cold and clear. “Is this true?”

Maltravers was crimson and sweating. “It is misspoken. Twisted.”

“Did you employ this man on the terms he described?”

“Yes, but—”

“Did you ask him questions implying a criminal relationship between Lord Gabriel and Mr. Webster?”

“Yes, because—”

“Did you encourage a servant to invent slander about my brother?” Philip put in, with barely contained anger. “Did you?”

“He led me to believe he could tell me those things!”

“You hired a valet in the hope of scurrilous gossip, and when he failed to deliver it, you beat him bloody. Is that the case, my lord?” Philip was a thin man of nothing like Richard’s impressive height and build, but he did not need them. He stood in the full majesty of fifteen years as Cirencester, two steps below the king himself, as unchallengeable and authoritative as ever their father had been. “Your acts are incomprehensible. Explain yourself.”

“He was working for Lord Richard,” Maltravers panted. “He must have been. All the time. It was a plot.”

“I asked for an explanation, not for accusations and excuses,” Philip said. “Have the goodness to confine yourself to fact.”

Maltravers was looking around frantically. “I tell you, this is a plot. Gabriel wrote a letter of filthy postures and obscenities to the man Webster. I had the letter, it has merely been misplaced. Lord Richard must have known about it and sent his valet to—to search my house for it—”

“He’s a valet, not a Bow Street Runner,” Richard said. “And I knew nothing of this fantasy but what you told me this very morning. If I had known earlier, I should have spoken to you earlier.”

“Cyprian led me to believe—” Maltravers looked around the room. His station had meant he was always received, and mostly treated, with respect. He had never needed to win over opinions before. Richard saw the need dawning on him far, far too late, even as he pulled himself straight. “I give you my word as Warminster’s heir, sirs. Every word I have spoken is the truth.”

“I think we all know the worth of your words, Maltravers,” Sir James Cairn said. “This is disgraceful.”

“Curse it, do you think I should invent such a business? About my own brother?”

“You have invented sufficient business about my brother.” Philip was stiff with anger. “On your own telling, my lord, you stole letters, you hired a valet for gossip and beat him when he showed a decency you should emulate, and you set out to ruin your brother’s good name. Even were your allegations true, every feeling must be revolted. As it is, you produce no evidence but lies and bluster. I wonder at you, sir, and I shall have words for your father on your conduct.”

There were strong noises of agreement from around the room. Someone muttered, “It’s the mercury draughts. Mad as a hatter,” and several men chuckled.

“I am telling the truth,” Lord Maltravers insisted. “And if I had to take measures I regretted to prove it—”

“You are a lying hound,” Francis bit out.

“You should hang as a sodomite!”

Julius grabbed Francis’s arm again. Ash’s friend Freddy said loudly, “Well, you know about hanging, Maltravers,” and there was an explosion of laughter from a number of men. Philip glared them into silence. David’s face was exceptionally wooden. Richard made a mental note to find out what the devil that was about.

“I will not stand for these accusations,” Francis was saying, shaking Julius off. “I will not have them repeated.”

“He’ll never stop,” Ash said wearily. “He still says he didn’t break my rocking horse when I was five, and both my sisters saw him do it. He’ll never admit he was wrong. I’m not sure if he knows when he is.”

That had the ring of absolute truth, and it was the coup de grâce. There was no doubt at all in the faces around the room now. “I did not credit the recent remarks I have heard ascribed to you, Lord Maltravers,” Alvanley said. “Perhaps I should have.”

Maltravers turned on his brother, face savage, but Richard was already walking up to him. “My lord, your quarrel with Ash and Webster is your business. I have no say in that except that I consider your conduct shameful in the extreme. But everyone here has heard that you encouraged a servant to invent obscene slander against me. What have you to say about that?”