everyone except the husband.’
Fox quickly pulled on a shirt. ‘That may have entered my mind, but I discounted it. Too minor to concern myself with.’
‘I see your point. Mr Peabody is feeling disgraced and is planning to kill you. If he succeeds you will be in the papers again. Good plan. You should have thought of it years ago.’
Fox looked over his shoulder. ‘I assure you, my demise would be on the front page and not only for one day or two. They would devote considerable space to the event.’
‘I could get my wife to draw up a caricature of your passing on as well, and proposing again.’
‘Assuming there are married women in the hereafter. Which is an immense leap of faith.’ Fox poured water into the basin and wet a flannel before pressing it to his face. ‘Make sure Beatrice gets my smile just right. I do want to be remembered as I am.’
‘Including the wrinkles?’
Foxworthy patted his face clean and reached for the comb, but he spared another glance for the mirror. Not a line. Nothing. Not even at the eyes. His movements stopped and he stared into his reflection. Nothing. A caricature of a person. He flicked the comb against the glass, hearing the clink as he turned away.
‘You’ve moved through the ton, gathering the ladies about you,’ Andrew said. ‘It’s as if you wish to say to the husbands that had you asked the wife first, she would have chosen you.’
Fox snapped around, his eyes on his cousin. ‘She would have. Nothing to do with me, though. The advantage of inheritance.’ His voice roughened. ‘The heir’s advantage. None of it matters. Not to the women. Not to their husbands. Not to me.’
‘No less than three men in this town have threatened publicly to kill you. You’ll hardly be laughing if one decides it’s worth the noose to put you in the ground.’
‘They only say it because it is required of them. They must bluster and spout. They don’t care either.’ Fox shut his eyes. The women were fickle. The husbands—cowards. He opened his eyes. The ton had become as boring as the country, only with more elaborate planning going into the staleness.
‘You’ve not forgotten that woman who nearly chased you to the altar when you were a child.’ Andrew grabbed the waistcoat the valet had left draped over the lacquered clothing stand and tossed the garment at Fox.
Fox caught it. His lips curled up. ‘Best thing that ever happened to me was when she lost interest.’
‘True. At the time. But not now.’
‘I assure you I’ve no feelings for her at all. I wish her only the best her husband’s money can buy. And if you think of it, I’m as good as married to half the women in London. I see them once in a while and don’t live with them. The same as my parents do and they are quite happily wed.’
Andrew watched him without speaking for a moment. ‘There are decent women out there. You just don’t deserve one.’
‘I must agree.’ He looked at his cousin. ‘I’d drown in annoyance.’
The knocking at the door interrupted them. ‘Enter,’ Fox called out. A footman, hair close cropped at the sides, walked in with a tray holding two notes. He held the salver out to Fox.
Fox stood, picked up one paper, flicked it open, saw that it was from Lady Havisham and read her warning that Peabody was incensed about the proposal.
Then he saw the script on the other page. His father’s pen. He opened it. The man would be visiting. He claimed he wanted to see Fox’s new horse.
‘I am truly going on a health regime,’ Foxworthy muttered as he read. ‘I’ll pay a surprise visit to my father’s house in the country—since he’s at Bath, searching for a new vicar, and will be in London soon. There’s a tavern near my father’s country estate that I miss.’ He tossed the paper back onto the tray. ‘Put it with the others.’ He motioned the servant away, and the man nodded.
It would be best for all involved. His father didn’t see the humour in marriage proposals, or anything else.
He shook his head. ‘It’s a sad day when Lady Havisham can handle her spirits better than I can. That tavern ale should put some iron in my stomach.’
Andrew nodded, pushing himself up from the chair. ‘I’ll tell everyone at White’s that you’re going to the country estate. Perhaps someone else will divert their attention before you return.’ He paused. ‘Peabody isn’t the straightest arrow and everyone knows he’s vengeful.’
Fox waved the words away and checked the mirror again. His blasted eyes looked soulless. As though they didn’t care about anyone or anything. His cousin was wrong. He wasn’t soured on marriage. He was soured on the world and there wasn’t one better anywhere. He’d travelled just enough to know that.
‘Don’t get yourself killed by proposing to anyone in the country,’ Andrew said.
‘You have my word,’ Fox said. ‘I’m leaving London. I will stay from public view for a time. I am not proposing again...’ he paused, thinking ‘...unless it is to Lady Havisham. I rather like her.’ He chuckled to himself. ‘I doubt she’d take her vows seriously.’
‘Would you?’
‘Do I take anything seriously?’
‘Perhaps the taste of brandy.’
Fox gave an upward tilt of his head, and Andrew stepped out the door, closing it behind him. Fox stared at the wood for a moment.
He didn’t even feel much for Andrew. They’d grown up together and had their fair share of adventures. But now they were men and Andrew had married, and his thoughts always seemed somewhere else. Not that Fox didn’t understand. His own thoughts only half-attended the revelry around him. That last proposal had been a performance and a stale one at that.
Fox had to leave London. The stench of all the hypocrisy was flooding into him. Particularly his own hypocrisy of the easy smile and the game of getting his name mentioned in the newspaper.
He felt as if he had a bit of sand inside his boot all the time.
The tomb-like walls of his father’s house would fit him well. Particularly since his father wasn’t there. But first, he would have a crate of brandy sent ahead. Maybe two, since his father wouldn’t be there to share. Or three. His father would not see the humour in returning home with a new vicar and finding all the servants with sotted smiles.
* * *
The next morning, Foxworthy ignored the superfine silk coat the valet had left out and went to the dressing chamber. He found the half-rag brown garment that suited the country better. He and his father agreed on that one thing. Just as Fox wasn’t suited to the country life, neither were the clothes he preferred.
He didn’t wait for the carriage. He wanted the power of the horse at his command.
Foxworthy left the house, taking a bite from the apple in his hand. The groom handed the reins to Fox, and he took Rusty’s reins, moving to hold his palm flat at the animal’s face. The horse nibbled with his lips and then crunched
