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“I see you’ve made the place spotless for unexpected visitors,” Rotherby noted as he stared at a mound of papers heaped atop what should have been a dining table.
“The noteworthy phrase you’ve used is unexpected visitors.” Seb quickly collected sheaves of documents and armfuls of books to clear space on a pair of chairs and his sofa.
“Save your efforts, Holloway,” Rotherby said. “We’re not staying long.”
Seb set debris upon another pile of debris, which didn’t do much to actually tidy things up and, in fact, created a precarious tower.
“Off to prowl the docks in search of fistfights?” he asked.
To his chagrin, Rotherby walked right up to the tower of paper and books and tapped it, causing the whole structure to wobble.
“A night of gentlemanly pursuits,” Rotherby said, watching the effects of his mischief.
“How delightful for you.” Seb blocked Rotherby’s second attempt to topple the heap of debris. Rotherby tried to dodge around him, but Seb used his body to obstruct him.
Meanwhile, Grace’s note needed a response.
“How delightful for us,” McCameron said, stepping between Rotherby and Seb. There was no way around the mass of McCameron’s large frame. His athletic ability had seen him celebrated throughout his time at Eton, then made him much vaunted in his military career, and now easily prevented Seb and Rotherby from tormenting each other further.
“Explain.” Seb looked with confusion between Rotherby and McCameron.
Rotherby strolled from the chamber and into the room where Seb slept. When Seb followed, he found his friend digging through the small wardrobe. Rotherby pulled out an ink-blue jacket and held it up for inspection.
“Yes,” Rotherby murmured, “with the burgundy waistcoat this will work.” He turned to Seb. “Put this on. You’re coming with us.”
Seb put his hands on his hips. How like Rotherby to be so high-handed about everything. Sardonically, he asked, “The possibility that I might have other plans for the evening did not occur to you?”
“No,” Rotherby said.
“As it turns out, I do have somewhere to be this night.” He held up Grace’s note. “Grace has asked me to appear at Viscount Ombersley’s soiree, and—”
“You’re running off to do her bidding,” McCameron finished, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I’m honoring my obligation,” Seb fired back. “You of all people should understand the importance of that.”
Before McCameron could answer, Rotherby stepped forward, holding out the dark indigo coat. “You need not jump to oblige her every whim, Holloway. A little scarcity increases demand. Besides,” he went on as Seb sputtered his objections, “in order for her plan to fully work, you cannot appear only at her side. The ton needs to know that you are a rake without equal, and that for a woman such as her to catch your notice, it must be a most singular occurrence. It will also make for a good addition to your paper or whatever you plan on writing.”
“Therefore,” McCameron continued, “you are coming with us for a night on the town.”
Seb looked between Rotherby and McCameron as his thoughts spun. What Rotherby said made a kind of sense. He couldn’t exist in a vacuum. “Given the nature of how verbal information networks operate within this societal structure—”
“In other words, gossip,” Rotherby said.
“Given the nature of gossip,” Seb plowed on as he fought to work out the reasoning, “word would inevitably circulate back to Fredericks, who would then use it as basis for his continuing escalating valuation of Grace, thus achieving our objective.”
“Exactly so.” McCameron snorted quietly. “From a strategist’s point of view, you and Lady Grace are employing complex tactics. You both would’ve been assets during the War.”
“Except,” Rotherby said, “Holloway would be too busy asking the enemy questions about their use of verbal information networks to be much good on the front lines.”
“There’s always need for intelligence,” McCameron replied.
“Which would discount your contribution considerably, Rotherby.” Seb ducked as his friend threw his jacket at him. Straightening, he said, “Not certain what to tell Grace.”
