Tindall had once been a second son with nothing to lose—and Roderick’s closest friend. They had been inseparable as they strolled the seediest alleys of London to prove their courage and daring. They had never turned down a fight, a drink, or a willing woman.
That was until five years ago, when Tindall’s father and older brother died in a freak accident and he inherited the title. Suddenly a viscount, Tindall turned his back on Roderick without hesitation.
Responding to Roderick’s quip with a look of scorn, Tindall replied caustically, “Say what you came to say, Bentley.”
“Did you know Marcus has been coming by the club?”
“No, I did not know that. Nor do I see how such news warrants an audience.”
Roderick took a deep breath to calm the ire rising in his chest at Tindall’s rude manner. The longer he stood speaking with his old friend, the more his loyalty to their past association seemed entirely unjustified.
“More than his frequent visits, it is his deep play I wanted to make you aware of,” he explained. “Marcus is making some dangerous choices and is heading down a slippery slope. You may want to intervene before he gets himself into serious trouble.”
“Good God, Bentley,” Tindall scoffed, “let the boy have his fun. A little risk never hurt anyone.”
“It has gone far beyond a little risk. Marcus is digging deeper than he can afford, and at some point he will be required to pay up.”
Tindall eyed him sharply. “Is that a threat, Bentley?”
Roderick nearly punched the man. He clenched his teeth in an attempt to control his flare of temper.
“I do not issue threats, Tindall,” he responded in a low voice. “You should know that. Your brother is borrowing from people who do not have our shared history. They will not be lenient when their loans come due.”
Tindall shifted his gaze outward in a gesture of dismissal. “I do not see how that is any of your concern. Now, if you are finished, do move on.”
Roderick felt a familiar rage settling into his being. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long time—not since his mother had been alive and he had witnessed the depth of injustice present in society’s opinion. Though he would have loved to let loose with the feelings crowding his chest, fury never solved anything.
As Roderick turned to walk away, Tindall cleared his throat.
“One moment. Since you are here,” he said, “do you have any investment opportunities I might be interested in?”
The fire in his gut burned so hot, Roderick feared he might erupt.
“Loring told me of a tip you gave him last year, which brought in significant profits,” Tindall continued, oblivious to the double standard in his request. “I heard the same from others about town. I would like to see what you have to offer me.”
Roderick curled his hands into fists, but resisted the violence that surged beneath his carefully maintained veneer. He valued his reputation as an investor and would not risk it even for a chance to shove Tindall’s request down his old friend’s throat.
“I will keep you in mind, my lord.”
“Excellent,” Tindall said with a bobbing nod as he redirected his attention outward now that he had gotten what he wanted.
Roderick turned away without a word and headed purposefully toward the exit. The hypocrisy of this glittering world felt like a tightening noose around his throat. He could not wait another minute to free himself from the falseness and conceit of high society.
Crossing the front hall in long strides, Roderick almost made his escape through the front door when his path was blocked by an elegant, fair-haired gentleman just making his arrival. When the gentleman looked up, his bright blue eyes locked with Roderick’s.
Biting off a curse, Roderick forged ahead. Of course, his sojourn into hell would not be complete without an encounter with his half brother, the current Earl of Wright. There was an unspoken agreement between them to behave as the strangers they were whenever they happened to cross paths. But as Roderick shifted his gaze to the door, intending to sweep past his father’s legitimate offspring, Wright turned toward him.
“Bentley, a word…”
Roderick ignored him and continued out into the night.
Four
It was almost two o’clock in the morning by the time the Chadwicks got home from the Hawksworths’ ball. From the first week of the girls’ debut, they had gotten into the habit of gathering in Emma’s bedroom after each social event, regardless of how late it was, to discuss their progress. After readying herself for bed, Emma did not have long to wait before Lily and Portia arrived.
The girls had also changed into their nightclothes, and they settled on the bed while Emma sat at her vanity.