Page 13 of How to Start a Scandal

Seth offered a stiff nod in an attempt to be polite despite the lack of consideration on the other man’s part.

‘You should come with me tonight, I’ll be—’

‘I’m afraid that’s impossible.’ Seth braced his feet wide on the soft carpet. A soldier’s stance. ‘I have matters to see to the following day.’

‘Matters that no doubt require a clear mind and good rest.’ Kentworth rolled his eyes and nudged Rawley with his elbow. ‘He’s sounding like you.’

Rawley merely lifted a brow.

‘Seeing to one’s estates and family is a noble occupation,’ Seth responded.

‘Stewards.’ Kentworth took a swallow of brandy. ‘They handle the lot of it. Well, them and solicitors.’ He paused, tilted his head and cast an exaggerated grimace in Seth’s direction. ‘Well, most of them, that is.’

Sweat sheened Seth’s palms. A sleepless night filled with horrible memories was exacting its toll.

‘Kentworth,’ Rawley said in a low tone.

‘Don’t, Rawley.’ Kentworth pushed at his friend’s shoulder to put him off. ‘What happened to you?’ He frowned at Seth. ‘Rawley’s always been a puddle of mud. But you... You used to be able to drink more than me, you’d take two ladies when I took only one, you didn’t care a whit for anything. And now look at you. Your joie de vivre has died.’

Rage whipped hot and reckless through Seth in a wave that immediately overwhelmed him.

‘No, my men died,’ he bit out. ‘In front of me.’ Images flashed in his mind, broken and violent.

Red and white flickered at the edge of Seth’s vision.

Blood. Chaos. The acrid odour of gunpowder. The screams...

‘Sounds as though you need a tup more than the rest of us.’ Kentworth chortled and lifted his glass.

Seth flew at him, pinning him against the wall, forearm to neck. ‘A tup won’t remove what I’ve seen and it won’t bring those men back.’ He pushed himself harder against Kentworth. The glass fell from his hand and landed on the soft carpet with a thunk.

‘They were good men,’ Seth growled into Kentworth’s face. ‘They were hard-working. Brave.’

‘Lord Dalton.’ Rawley spoke quietly as he put a hand lightly on Seth’s shoulder.

The Viscount stepped back to reveal the sea of faces turned towards them, aghast with horror. Seth uttered a curse and released Kentworth, who rubbed at his cravat.

‘I’ll handle this,’ Rawley said quietly. ‘I think it’s best you take your leave.’

Seth nodded and backed away. He put up a hand as he did so, in silent apology, in acknowledgment for what he’d done. He hadn’t been back for a week and already he was on the cusp of most likely being blackballed from White’s.

The quiet room erupted into a buzz of voices as he departed. The incident had rattled him. His own reaction had rattled him. It was more than the sleeplessness that had led to him exploding as he did, it was the awfulness in his head, the way he could never clear the smell of blood and smoke from his awareness. It was the paralysing fear that the horrors he’d witnessed had left his mind broken.

Despite what he’d been through, despite the years he’d aged and the man he strove to be, he was still an idiot and he was still making mistakes. He was an earl now, however, and his errors no longer only affected him. It was his family who would suffer.

At least the visit to White’s had revealed what he needed: someone to aid him in finding the runaway solicitor. Seth would make certain he did not err in bringing the bastard to justice and making right the wrongs he had caused his family by leaving.

The sky had opened up into a veritable deluge by the time Violet arrived at her town house on Grosvenor Street. She declined the proffered umbrella, put the Society Journal over her head and dashed through the rain to her home, nearly tripping over the cat in the process.

The cat?

She spun around and squared off against the offended animal, both gazing with incredulity at the other. Her with dripping hair and a sodden newspaper and it with... Was that a bonnet?

She blinked.

It blinked.

‘What—?’