“You.”
Gareth had barely a second to react. He didn’t know how it had happened, didn’t know where the baron had suddenly appeared from, but somehow he managed to push Hyacinth back into the alley in the very second before he was caught.
“Greetings,” he said, in his jauntiest voice,
stepping forward so as to put as much distance between him and the alley as possible.
His father was already striding over, his face visibly angry, even in the dim light of the night. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.
Gareth shrugged, the same expression that had infuriated his father so many times before. Except this time he wasn’t trying to provoke, he was just trying to keep the baron’s attention firmly fixed. “Just making my way home,” he said, with deliberate nonchalance.
His father’s eyes were suspicious. “You’re a bit far afield.”
“I like to stop by and inspect my inheritance every now and then,” Gareth said, his smile terribly bland. “Just to make sure you haven’t burned the place down.”
“Don’t think I haven’t thought about it.”
“Oh, I’m sure you have.”
The baron held silent for a moment, then said, “You weren’t at the ball tonight.”
Gareth wasn’t sure how best to respond, so he just lifted his brows ever so slightly and kept his expression even.
“Miss Bridgerton wasn’t there, either.”
“Wasn’t she?” Gareth asked mildly, hoping the lady in question possessed sufficient self-restraint not to leap out from the alley, yelling, “Yes, I was!”
“Just at the beginning,” the baron admitted. “She left rather early.”
Gareth shrugged again. “It’s a woman’s prerogative.”
“To change her mind?” The baron’s lips formed the tiniest of curves, and his eyes were mocking. “You had better hope she’s a bit more steadfast than that.”
Gareth gave him a cold stare. Somehow, amazingly, he still felt in control. Or at the very least, like the adult he liked to think that he was. He felt no childish desire to lash out, or to say something for the sole purpose of infuriating him. He’d spent half his life trying to impress the man, and the other half trying to aggravate him. But now…finally…all he wanted was to be rid of him.
He didn’t quite feel the nothing he had wished for, but it was damned close.
Maybe, just maybe, it was because he’d finally found someone else to fill the void.
“You certainly didn’t waste any time with her,” the baron said, his voice snide.
“A gentleman must marry,” Gareth said. It wasn’t exactly the statement he wished to say in front of Hyacinth, but it was far more important to keep up the ruse with his father than it was to feed whatever need she might feel for romantic speech.
“Yes,” the baron murmured. “A gentleman must.”
Gareth’s skin began to prickle. He knew what his father was hinting at, and even though he’d already compromised Hyacinth, he’d rather she didn’t learn the truth of his birth until after the wedding. It would simply be easier that way, and maybe…
Well, maybe she’d never learn the truth at all. It seemed unlikely, between his father’s venom and Isabella’s diary, but stranger things had happened.
He needed to leave. Now. “I have to go,” he said brusquely.
The baron’s mouth curved into an unpleasant smile. “Yes, yes,” he said mockingly. “You’ll need to tidy yourself up before you go off to lick Miss Bridgerton’s feet tomorrow.”
Gareth spoke between his teeth. “Get out of my way.”
But the baron wasn’t done. “What I wonder is…how did you get her to say yes?”
A red haze began to wash over Gareth’s eyes. “I said—”