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Lizzie’s face hardened. “Why?”
“Because we both know that young pup, as you call him, entered your bed before I had even left it.”
She forced her chin upward, turned, and walked away.
Braden smiled. He had wanted to do that for the past six months. Lizzie had only wanted him because he’d just inherited the title.
“Look who has returned from moldering in the country.”
Braden turned to see Jack Cranborne grinning at him. “Jack, thank God there is one friendly face at this damned party.”
Jack smiled and nodded. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I’m looking for Jonathon. Have you seen him?”
“He’s not here. In fact, I didn’t know he was in town. The last I’d heard he was spending the summer at Middleton Hall . . . with you.”
“He left.”
Jack’s smile disappeared. “How has he fared?”
“He was quite well out in the middle of nowhere. But if he has truly returned, I fear he shall fall back into his old habits.”
Jack’s lips turned downward. “I’d be happy to help you find him. Especially if it means getting out of here tonight.”
Braden laughed. “No one worth seducing?”
“Not a one.”
“Who is Lizzie with these days?”
“Stephenson.”
“Ned Stephenson? Isn’t he only twenty-two?” Braden could not believe Lizzie would have an interest in such a young man. There had to be an ulterior motive. “Why?”
“He was just named heir presumptive to an earldom of his uncle’s. Since his uncle is seventy and in poor health, it seems apparent that Stephenson will inherit before too long.”
“Makes sense that Lizzie wants to get her claws into that one. She’d much rather be a countess than a dowager baroness.”
“Exactly. And he’s young enough to control.” Jack shook his head. “I heard there is some action at Handler’s tonight. Perhaps Jonathon is there.”
“Give me a minute to just look around here.”
Braden scoured the rooms for Jonathon, but found no sign of him. He and Jack tried Handler’s gaming hell to no avail. While Jack played some faro, Braden made a few inquires but no one had seen Jonathon since spring. Braden walked back through the smoke-filled room, choking back a cough. He hadn’t missed this.
His friend sat at the faro table with a smile and a good amount of coins in front of him. One man left the table, so Braden slid into his seat. Immediately, one of the many whores sat down on his lap and whispered in his ear.
“I have an empty bed upstairs just waiting for you.”
“Not tonight, darling. Go try another man,” he choked out. Good God, the woman must have soaked in perfume. The disappointed woman slipped off his lap and walked toward another more willing victim.
“Anything?” Jack asked.
“No one has seen him,” Braden said, then checked his cards and frowned. The scowl on his face had nothing to do with his cards. If his brother hadn’t been at the most popular party of the night, nor at one of the most popular gaming hells, where the bloody hell could he be?
Unable to concentrate on his cards, he folded and scraped back his chair. “I’m going home,” he said to Jack.
“Now?” Jack replied, staring at his cards. With a groan, he tossed his cards down, picked up his winnings, and followed Braden out the door.
