Despite himself, Val barked out a laugh. “You always did drive a hard bargain. I’ll tell you up front that it involves the Lyceum Theatre, so you may be right.”
The duke’s golden brows rose at Val’s effrontery. “I hope you aren’t here to try to persuade me to let you have a go at Nell, because I don’t share. Not even with a friend I’ve known as long as you, old man.”
Val wasn’t sure whether he should be insulted or amused. Langham well knew that Val was hardly the sort to pursue another man’s mistress, even one as lovely as Nell Burgoyne. He raised a brow. “Sharing isn’t one of my strong suits either, if you recall.” There’d been an incident when they had brangled over the same woman at university, but it had ended badly for each of them when she rejected them for a different classmate altogether.
It was Langham’s turn to laugh. “Fair enough, fair enough. What was the wench’s name? Maisie? Molly?”
“Millie.” Val smiled at the memory.
“Millie! Of course!” Langham took a drink of his brandy before prodding, “So if it’s not to poach on my territory, what do you want?”
In as succinct a manner as possible, Val explained why he had come and his need to know who might be of interest among the regulars in the Lyceum Theatre’s greenroom.
As Val spoke, Langham abandoned all pretense of lethargy and sat forward, alert. “And you’ve no idea where she is?”
“None,” Val confirmed. “I imagine because of your involvement with Miss Burgoyne you know what sorts of fellows spend time there. Do you think any of them are capable of arranging something like this?”
The duke blew out a breath. “I wish I could say it’s impossible, but you know as well as I that if you have enough money, you can make anything happen.”
“And the men who flock to Effie Warrington are wealthy?” Val asked, his heart sinking for his cousin’s sake.
“Not all of them, though they’re mostly rich enough. Fortune hunters spend their evenings at balls, searching for heiresses. They certainly don’t have pockets deep enough to afford someone of Miss Warrington’s calibre. She’s got eyes for no one but that cousin of yours, but even if she were on the hunt for a protector, she has the beauty and talent to command more than some pockets-to-let younger son can afford.”
“Can you give me the names of some of the ones who reacted badly to my cousin’s arrival on the scene?” Val asked. “Or who disappeared soon afterward?”
“It’s not as if I spend all my time watching the crowd around Miss Warrington, you know,” Langham said, raising a brow. “Nell’s possessive enough as it is without me ignoring her in favor of another woman right under her nose.”
“Of course. Just the ones who stood out even from your place kneeling at Miss Burgoyne’s feet.” Val kept his expression deliberately grave.
The hand gesture Langham displayed in response was accompanied by a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Wise arse,” he said without rancor.
Then, his expression turning serious, he rattled off four names. All of them known to Val and none of them the sorts he imagined would become unhinged enough to have an actress kidnapped.
“I see you’re surprised.” Langham’s lips twisted. “You never know what a man will do until he wants something he can’t have. Unfortunately, there are far too many of our sex who believe themselves entitled to whatever takes their fancy. And if that happens to be a woman, with thoughts and preferences of her own, well, some of them are willing to take without permission.”
“You sound as if you’ve been reading A Lady’s Guide to Mischief and Mayhem,” Val said, unable to keep the astonishment from his tone.
If he was expecting the other man to look sheepish, he was to be sorely disappointed. “Of course I have.” Langham shrugged. “So has everyone else in this town. And they’re smart to do so. They’ve been given a whole new understanding of just what sorts of nonsense women have to put up with from men. You’re friends with Lady Katherine, aren’t you? I’d forgotten that.”
“Indeed.” Val nodded, feeling a new appreciation for the man. He’d assumed, wrongly it seemed, that an aristocrat like Langham would consider columns like Caro and Kate’s to be beneath him. But the conversation had reminded him that not all peers were cut from the same cloth as his father and brother. And perhaps that was a good thing. “And Miss Hardcastle as well.”
“Ah, the pocket Venus with the glorious—” The duke made a gesture with both hands this time and it wasn’t nearly as amusing as the other had been.
“I know we’re old friends, Langham,” Val said coldly, “but if you ever speak of Miss Hardcastle in such a disrespectful manner again, I’ll have to put a bullet in you and I’ll enjoy doing it.” Even before he’d uttered the words, anger had clouded his vision. He summoned every ounce of willpower to stop himself from grabbing the duke by his neckcloth and shaking him like a dog with a squirrel.
Rather than draw back in dismay, the duke’s eyes widened as he leaned forward. “I never thought I’d see the day.” He shook his head in apparent disbelief. “My apologies, Val. I had no idea it was like that. I have nothing but admiration for Miss Hardcastle. Indeed, she’s a witty writer. I’ve even enjoyed her cookery books and you know I don’t give a damn about how to make the perfect sponge.”
Val barely heard the other man, other than noting he’d made his apologies. He’d never felt that sort of rage before. The sheer magnitude of it unsettled him.
Before he could embarrass himself further, he bid Langham a good afternoon and made his way back into St. James’s Street.
“What the devil was that?” he muttered, staring sightlessly as the carts and carriages passed before him.
He’d never come so close to striking a man—a friend, even—like a damned hothead. Such lack of control was unacceptable for any gentleman, much less the future Duke of Thornfield. He’d always prided himself on his restraint, but suddenly he was in danger of coming to blows with a friend, and he couldn’t even say why.
That wasn’t true. He knew exactly why—or rather who—and she would not thank him for his behavior. She loathed him so much that she hadn’t even wanted to share a carriage with him for a brief ride to the Lyceum. He could only imagine how she would react to his little tantrum just now.
Then he remembered the invitation he’d sent to her parents earlier and cursed.
“I am a colossal clodpate.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What was I thinking?”
It had seemed like an inspired notion at the time. A way to prove that he didn’t give a hang what his father or anyone else said about his friendship with her. But they weren’t friends, were they? And he’d just proven to himself, if not Langham, that his emotions where she was concerned were still entirely too ungovernable for comfort.
“I don’t know, mate,” said a clerk who was trying to get around him, “but I’d be obliged if you considered the matter somewhere else so the rest of us can go about our business.”
Shaking himself out of his reverie, Val apologized and hurried down the street in search of a cab. If he was going to attend the theatre tonight with a snarling Caro and her fawning parents, the least he could do was bathe first.