Ravishing in Red by Madeline Hunter Page A

he was not ready for the day when ten o’clock came. He went to Morgan’s chambers anyway, wearing neither coats nor cravat.
    Morgan hid any disapproval, of which Sebastian assumed there was some. Even in his infirmity, Morgan dressed for the day.
    “How does your arm fare?” Morgan asked.
    “It is still stiff and sore, but is healing cleanly.”
    Not much was said while they ate breakfast. They had not spoken much since that interview two afternoons ago, when Morgan had revealed the engraving.
    “It is getting worse,” Sebastian finally said. “The scandal. It is taking an unfortunate turn.”
    “I know. Our mother brought me several more engravings yesterday.”
    “How thoughtful of her.”
    “Her place in society means a lot to her. It is all that she has now.”
    “My concerns are bigger than our mother suffering a few innuendos during her social calls. There has been a change in how I am viewed. It is subtle, but unmistakable. My influence has been compromised, along with Miss Kelmsleigh’s reputation.”
    The reaction had not been entirely subtle. Castleford had retreated from serious negotiations at once. Among other MPs he saw, a few eyes reflected satisfied glee when aimed his way. More telling was that he had not been invited to an important meeting today that normally he would expect to attend.
    Morgan pondered that. “Your arrival may have been too abrupt for some, and your rise too fast for others. There will always be those who resent a man of merit and consequence who surpasses them.”
    Merit may have helped that rise, but birth and blood had mattered more. Everyone knew that although active in the Commons, he was Parliament’s stand-in for his brother, and his seat itself was in Wittonbury’s pocket. Not only was Morgan a marquess, but he had also been one of the nobility’s sacrificial lambs to the god of war, and that gave more weight to Sebastian’s influence too.
    Sebastian suspected this indirect attack on his character had other reasons besides envy, though. A man could not be effective in politics without making enemies. There were winners, which meant there were losers.
    Since Sebastian usually was among the former, there undoubtedly were men looking to extract as much revenge through this scandal as possible. The only question was whether it would render him totally useless in the end. As Castleford had put it, would he instantly become yesterday’s fashion?
    “Our mother is distraught for herself,” Morgan said. “As you noted, the truth is this will cause her a few moments of embarrassment and little more. There is no doubt that you can take care of yourself, so even if the worst happens, I do not fear it turning you to drink. The only person who will be truly hurt by this is Miss Kelmsleigh.”
    Morgan turned his attention briefly to the street below his window. Then he braced his arms against his chair and resettled himself on it a bit. Finally he reached for the coffee urn and set about completing his meal while his reference to Miss Kelmsleigh hung in the air.
    Morgan had always been a bit dull, but he also had always been honest. Forthright, frank, and honorable in the simple way taught to young boys, the nuances of life often perplexed him. All of which made him ill-suited for the kind of sly manipulation of the conversation that he attempted now.
    It was not clear how this good, decent man of few vices had been born into the family. He did not take after their father; that was certain. Sebastian did, to their mother’s vexation. But Morgan had little in common with her either, and possessed none of her ruthless indifference to the pain of others.
    “I did not do it,” Sebastian said. “I have not had Miss Kelmsleigh’s favors under any circumstances, least of all those insinuated by this gossip.”
    “I did not think you had.”
    “Like hell you didn’t.”
    Morgan expressed dismay at Sebastian’s sharp tone. “No matter what happened, she is a victim twice