"You knew that when you sat down," came a drawl from behind James.
Magnus sank into the nearest empty chair.Beside him, Niall dropped into another and signaled for brandy.
James's hand tightened on his cards.
"Gentlemen," he said."Come to rescue my opponents from ruin?"
"Hardly," Magnus said."I owe Lord Bertram revenge, and I intend to enjoy it.However," his gaze flicked over Redford," we also came to see whether the rumors were true."
James arched a brow."Which rumors?That Mrs.Dalrymple has taken up archery, or that the Bishop cried at Foxmere's battledore tournament?"
Niall's mouth twitched."Both true, as it happens.But I meant the rumor that you have been losing at diversion and winning at melancholy."
Bertram, recognizing the tone of a conversation about to become serious, excused himself and gathered his coins.The other gentlemen drifted away, leaving James with his two oldest friends.
"Melancholy does not suit your complexion," Magnus remarked."You go sallow.It offends me."
"You offend easily," James said."It's one of your many charms."
Niall leaned his elbows on the table, studying him.“Lady Esme Jones."
James's fingers stilled.
He kept his voice light."You have narrowed the entire Season down to two words.Impressive.The gossip columns should hire you."
"There are no columns about this," Niall said."Everyone at Foxmere saw you in that garden.Saw her.And saw the way you both looked when you were not looking at one another."
James shuffled the deck."And how did we look?"
"Like two people midway across a bridge," Magnus said quietly."And too stubborn to admit the boards are cracking."
James's laugh sounded like a cough."Then perhaps it is better to step back before we both fall into the river."
"You have already fallen into the river," Niall said."Twice, by my count.Once literal, once not."
"I do wish you would stop keeping track of my aquatic humiliations," James muttered.
"We heard you told Woodmere you had no designs upon his sister," Magnus said.
"I did.Because I do not.Designs suggest intent.I have never intended, never planned, to marry anyone.You both know that."
"Yes," Niall said slowly."I remember.Several years ago, after that business with Miss Cavendish?—"
James's jaw tightened."We agreed never to mention Miss Cavendish."
"You declared marriage was a cruel joke played by optimists upon themselves," Niall went on."That you would not subject any woman to your...'restless incompetence at being a proper man'?"
"You have always had a gift for dramatics," Magnus said.
"It was not drama.It was a resolution."James's voice hardened."My parents' marriage was a battlefield.My father gambled away half his sanity and most of our comfort.My mother spent twenty years pretending she did not mind.I have no intention of recreating that."
"You are not your father."
"And ladies are not ledgers," Niall added."However much Woodmere treats his sister like one."
James exhaled sharply."Esme deserves safety.Steadiness.A man who doesn't wake some mornings wondering whether he has already ruined everything simply by existing.Do you truly believe I am that man?"
"Yes," Magnus said, without hesitation.
