That was Aaron’s role in life. His father’s punishment. A symbol of society’s underbelly. A walking embodiment of the reason social classes existed.
It wasn’t who he was. Aaron knew that. At least, he knew it now, but that was the role he had been given. Every now and then, when he was tempted to reach for more, he carefully chose one of those invitations and used it as a reminder.
A reminder of where he’d come from, of what could have been if he’d been born someone else. A reminder that trying to have a peaceful life meant walking away from his aristocratic friends and admitting he’d never belonged in their world.
Perhaps a reminder was what he needed now. The fact that the Marquis of Lindbury was in town and not relaxing at his country estate made it the perfect opportunity. Aaron never saw the man by accident. Every one of their encounters over the past six years had been carefully planned.
And they always went the same way.
They would see each other, make everyone uncomfortable, and spend five minutes in rudely polite conversation.
Then Aaron would leave, throw up in the bushes on his way home, and spend the next day and a half staring at the ceiling as penance for thinking he could change his lot in life.
He couldn’t think of a better way to spend an evening.
AARON HAD TO shuffle through most of the stack to find the perfect opportunity, but one was happening in an older home halfway across town the next evening.
Aaron had performed this penance enough that he knew the necessary ingredients. A large gathering, so that his presence reached his father via gossip first and everyone in attendance couldn’t witness the confrontation for themselves. A well-established hostess, so that he didn’t inadvertently bring anyone down with him. Normally the hostess needed an unmarried daughter in attendance to keep Rigsby from setting foot in the place, but Aaron’s brother was safely in Newmarket.
Fashionable, perfectly tailored clothing was also required. His evening kit had been made by the best tailor who had been willing to have him as a client, and it was so exquisitely fitted that it was almost as comfortable as his Newmarket ensembles.
As he presented the invitation to the footman, the settled feeling he normally got remained evasive. The internal discomfort, wariness, and heaviness were familiar, but the resigned satisfaction that usually accompanied those other feelings was nowhere to be found.
When was the last time he’d done this? February? That stretch was longer than he’d gone in years. Perhaps that was how Sophia had gotten past his defenses so easily.
The footman granted him entrance without a blink, but the first guest he saw stared at him agape and then rushed across the hall to whisper to someone else.
And so it began.
Tonight’s ball was in one of the old manors that hadn’t yet been torn down to make way for terraced houses. He could see a large open expanse at the top of the stairs and knew the ballroom lay beyond.
Most people gave him a wide berth but followed him with their eyes as he climbed the stairs. Aaron and the marquis had never had a shouting match, a physical altercation, or even an exchange of spiteful insults. Their meetings only made the gossip papers on very boring days, and even then it wasn’t more than two lines.
Still, everyone watched, wondering if this would be the first time.
Aaron was so focused on maintaining his composure as he entered the ballroom that he nearly collided with the man who stepped into his path.
“What are you doing here?” Graham stood in front of Aaron, refusing to let him go any farther unless he wanted to engage in a public tussle.
That would most certainly make the gossip sheets.
Aaron crossed his arms and stood as tall as he could, which put him approximately half an inch taller than his friend. “I was invited.”
“You’re always invited.”
“Then why were you asking?”
“Because you never attend.”
“Obviously I do.” Aaron frowned. “What are you doing here?”
Instead of answering, Graham narrowed his gaze and leaned in. “He’s here.”
Since that was the entire point of attending, Aaron had hoped as much. Graham’s being in attendance was mucking up the plan. “The hostess has nothing to worry about. We’ve always been civil.”
“I’ve never known you to attend gatherings without me or Oliver in attendance.”
Aaron should have known his two best friends would never stay in Newmarket after learning he’d gone to London. “Is Oliver here?”
“You hate balls,” Graham said, resisting Aaron’s attempt at distraction.
“I can’t say that I’ve been to enough balls to have any solidified opinion about them.”
Graham snorted. “And you’d like to rectify that?”
“Perhaps.”
“I’ll have Mother arrange one for next Wednesday, then.”
Aaron’s father never attended Lady Grableton’s functions. “That wouldn’t provide a fair assessment. Your family is rather biased in my favor.”
“You annoy my mother.”
“You’ve always said she adores me.” She might currently be annoyed that he wouldn’t allow her to meddle in his life more. “Besides, I entertain your father.”
“He doesn’t make the social arrangements.”
This was a pointless argument that served no purpose. “We are blocking the pathway.”
Instead of stepping aside and letting Aaron continue into the ballroom, Graham took Aaron’s arm and none too gently guided him over to the side of the antechamber. “Why are you here?”
Aaron made a show of looking about their new position. “Do you expect the change of scenery to prompt a different answer? Where is Oliver?”
“You think he came to London a week before his wedding?”
A pang of guilt shot through him. Still, he knew these two men. “Yes.”
“You’re right. He’s on his way to your rooms. I was going to join you both there later, but Mother asked me to make an appearance here because she and Father didn’t feel like going out. Now I have to wonder if she suspected you would be here.”
Possibly. Lady Grableton was a rather meddlesome, if lovable, woman, and if anyone had noticed the pattern of Aaron’s appearances, it would have been she. “As we have already established, this is not a normal evening activity for me. Where is your wife?”
Maybe mentioning Kit would distract the man.
“Newmarket. She could not endure such hasty travel in her condition.”
Her condition? Aaron swallowed. More chances to be an uncle. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
They fell into a silent staring match. Graham’s frustration was nearly palpable. The other man had Aaron’s best interests at heart, but Aaron couldn’t begin to explain to someone else what he himself barely understood. It was a compulsion to know what he was missing out on, to remind himself where he belonged, to remember whose blood ran in his veins.
“And here I’d hoped you decided to give this up.”
Aaron and Graham turned to find Rigsby standing next to them.
Because that was what this evening needed. Aaron and the marquis in a room together was a boring event the gossipmongers barely noticed. Rigsby and Aaron in the same vicinity would make the rounds in seconds.