“Yes, do tell.” Mr. Mowbray sat next to his wife, the panels of his waistcoat gaping to make room for his large gut. “We like to hear about society, especially when it’s a bit wicked.”
“Perhaps another time.” Elias massaged his temples, a dull ache pulsing behind his eyes. Months of travel had left him unwell and put him in a distasteful mood. He could not prevent his rudeness. It seemed to pour from him like water from a broken spigot.
Knocks rattled the front door, followed by indistinct chatter within the entrance hall. Elias recognized the voices. He tensed, his heart racing.
“I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Welby. We invited your cousin and his wife to join us,” Mrs. Mowbray said. “I had the pleasure of meeting the new Mrs. Darling in town this morning. Of course, I felt the need to extend a dinner invitation.”
“Oh, Elias . . .” Sebastian froze in the drawing room’s threshold with Widow De Clare on his arm. He wore a velvet frock coat, his cravat tied into an intricate knot.
Elias lurched to his feet. He hadn’t seen Sebastian or Widow De Clare since discovering them in Sebastian’s chambers.
“Blazes, what a nice surprise. I thought you’d returned to Windermere Hall,” Sebastian said through a forced smile. “Are you not going to congratulate us?”
Pressure tightened Elias’s chest until he panted like a horse. He couldn’t decide whether to speak or tackle his cousin to the floor.
“I am pleased to see you in good health, cousin,” Elias said as the couple greeted their hosts. He clenched his fists, his fingernails cutting into his palms. “Are you staying nearby?”
“No, we’re passing through.” Sebastian held Elias’s gaze as though daring him to misspeak. He cleared his throat. “We’re traveling to Cadwallader. My bride wishes us to settle down for the season.” His speech exuded confidence and civility, yet he seemed nervous. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. Colour drained from his face.
“Congratulations to you, Mr. and Mrs. Darling,” Heyworth said, perhaps to ease the tension. “I trust you had a nice honeymoon.”
“Yes, indeed.” Widow De Clare nodded, her cheeks flushed. She removed a brisé fan from her reticule and batted the air beneath her chin. “London was most agreeable.”
“We hope to purchase a town home near Hyde Park,” Sebastian said, his stare fixed on Elias. He escorted his wife to a sofa and commented on the Mowbrays’ fine rooms. Both newlyweds donned expensive fashion, proof they likely spent the past few months promenading through city parks and taking afternoon refreshments at the Tea Gardens.
They would enjoy such grandiose activities for as long as God permitted. Sebastian would flaunt his impish wife at dinner parties. Widow De Clare would live in luxury while her spinster daughter grew old within a cottage, invisible to the upper class.
Elias lowered onto his chair and studied the floor’s scroll pattern. He trembled with a rage so complete, it almost seemed to revive him. He wanted to shove Sebastian against a wall. He wanted to yell until his voice went hoarse.
Mrs. Mowbray invited her guests into the dining room, where footmen served more than seven dishes. Everyone took their seats and engaged in polite conversation. Sebastian spoke of his and the widow’s elopement, their experiences in London, and plans to have children. No one appeared fazed by the circumstance, that a couple who had damaged their families with scandal now lived as distinguished members of society.
“Does your daughter reside at Cadwallader Park, Mrs. Darling?” Heyworth asked.
Widow De Clare dabbed her mouth with a napkin. She glanced at Elias, perhaps worried he’d share the intimate details of Josephine’s departure. “No, she resides in Morpeth.”
“Such a modest place for a young lady,” Mr. Mowbray said. “Is she married?”
“Do you mean to interrogate our guests?” Mrs. Mowbray laughed. Her eyes flashed a warning, as if she knew what had occurred between Sebastian and Josephine.
“No, she is not married.”
Elias stabbed his fork into a square of cheese. He couldn’t eat. His stomach churned. He bunched his napkin beneath the table.
“Our situation was most unfortunate,” Sebastian said as a footman refilled his wineglass. “Of course, I feel tremendous guilt for breaking my engagement to Josephine.”
“Consider yourself lucky.” Mr. Mowbray winked and raised his cup in a toast.
“Indeed. Why marry the copy when you can have the original?” Heyworth chuckled. He turned in his chair to face the widow. “Mrs. Darling, you are from the heavens.”
She mustered a polite smile. “I must confess my daughter was not keen to marry Sebastian. She thought him too bold a person. I daresay I did her a favour.”
“How noble of you,” Sebastian said with a laugh. He took a bite of roast beef, then addressed the table. “It is true Josephine showed more affection for my cousin than me.” His grin shrank to a smirk, one that stripped all gallantry from his expression.
Heyworth looked at Elias. “Is it true? Did you return Miss De Clare’s interest?”
Elias clenched his jaw, anger boiling within him. He glared at Sebastian with as much venom as he could summon.
“Indeed. He was madly in love with her,” Sebastian said with a snicker, his eyes gleaming with mischief. Perhaps he wished to lure attention from his misconduct. “Yes, my cousin seemed quite enthralled with Josephine at the Christmas ball—”
“That’s enough,” Elias yelled. He slammed his palms onto the table and stood, his movements rattling the chinaware. “You are a man without honour. I am ashamed to share blood with you.”
“For heaven’s sake.” Heyworth scoffed. “Calm yourself.”
“I mean it.” Elias gestured to Sebastian and Widow De Clare. “You sit here unbothered by your misdeeds—your blatant treachery—while Josephine suffers. Where is the justice?”
Sebastian sipped from his glass, the wine staining his upper lip. All along, he had known about Elias’s feelings for Josephine, and he’d never said a word. What cruelty possessed him? How did he find joy in the misfortunes of others?
“I want
