He wore a mask shaped like a wild boar. Dark leather, bristling with coarse black hair along the brow, the snout grotesquely elongated, and tusks curving upward on either side of his mouth. The effect was vulgar. Deliberately so. A beast’s face over a gentleman’s clothes.
He stepped into the moonlight.
“Lord Hawkins.”
Gideon knew that voice.
The foolish warmth inside him vanished.
“Hatherleigh. What do you think you’re doing here?”
The man’s mouth curved beneath the grotesque snout of the boar mask.
“Attending a ball.”
“You were told to remove yourself from society.”
“Ah.” Hatherleigh gave a faint sigh. “Yes. I do recall that charming little conversation.”
Conversation.
Gideon’s hands curled at his sides.
He recalled Hatherleigh bleeding onto the floor of a private room while Blackwell held the door and Longstaffe stood between them and murder. He recalled the man begging. Swearing he would leave London, England, the earth itself if necessary.
They ought to have thrown the bastard into the Thames when they’d had the chance.
“You were fortunate to walk away at all,” Gideon said. “My mercy has limits. Seems you’re set on testing them.”
Hatherleigh’s smile thinned. “Careful, Hawkins. This is a wedding celebration. One ought not to make threats among the roses.”
“If you are here for Lady Beatrice?—”
“Ah, the hellion.” Hatherleigh clicked his tongue. “Still playing sentry, are you?”
Gideon took one step forward.
Hatherleigh’s bravado faltered, though it was only for a moment.
“If you go near her,” Gideon said quietly, “or any lady of the ton, ever again, I will not leave enough of you for your valet to dress.”
Hatherleigh’s gaze flicked over him, assessing the threat. “Always so chivalrous. But you are mistaken. I am not here for Lady Beatrice. Not tonight.”
Those last two words slid coldly beneath Gideon’s skin.
“I’ll attend to that matter another time,” Hatherleigh added. The hell he would.
Gideon nearly moved toward him then.
Nearly.
But something in the man’s tone stopped him. Smug. Certain. Not merely taunting.
“Then why are you here?” he asked.
“For a far more profitable purpose.”
“Profitable?”
