Allan shifted uncomfortably in his seat but waved at Stephen, urging him to continue.
“He stood far too close to her, and as I ordered him to get out, I saw Dorothy was crying. Lord Chilmond made it quite plain that if Dorothy did not agree to marry him, he would give the scandal sheets a story about me and Dorothy, one that would ruin both of our reputations.”
“Do I want to know if this story he was going to sell is a lie or truth?” Even as Allan asked the question, he grimaced. “On second thought, don’t answer that question. I am not sure I want to know.”
“I think Dorothy was seriously thinking of acquiescing to his demand,” Stephen explained in a rush. “She kept talking ofmyname, andmyreputation.” He gestured to himself. “It was as if that mattered to her more than her own.”
“Little wonder.” Allan sighed. “You’re the one who cares about your reputation. Well,hemade you care.” He thrust a thumb in the direction of the portrait across the room. “How did you stop it?”
“I threatened to give the scandal sheets the story of Lord Chilmond’s money troubles. It took some persuasion to believe it, but he soon backed off. He retreated from the room, no longer demanding that Dorothy marry him. I…” Stephen trailed off, struggling to find his words. He sat back and scratched the back of his neck. “I tried to comfort Dorothy.”
“And kissed her?”
“Not quite. Not this time.”
“This time!?” Alan spluttered, jerking so far forward that his coffee cup hit the pot. It went spinning across the table, and Stephen caught it with a wild hand as Allan waved an apology. “Why am I apologizing? You kissed my sister. I should be able to smash all your crockery.”
“Understandable.” Stephen nodded slowly and set the cup back on the table. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, Allan. Please believe me in that. It just sort of… happened.”
“These things don’t happen,” Allan grunted, no longer looking Stephen in the eye.
All the hope Stephen had had of his friend forgiving him now wilted like a dying flower. His shoulders slumped. Needing something to do with his hands, he refilled their cups of coffee, then held his cup, but he didn’t drink.
“It’s not in the scandal sheets yet,” he said, pointing at the paper beside him.
“I know. I checked myself this morning.” Allan looked down at the paper in thought. “I wouldn’t have been surprised if it was. A maid saw the two of you. Lady Webster must know, by now. There will be a scandal, Stephen. We cannot escape it.”
“We can.” Stephen was resolute in his decision. There was one thought that had kept him up more than any other, but to accomplish his plan, he would at first need Allan’s blessing. “There will be no scandal if I marry Dorothy.”
Allan jerked his head toward Stephen and managed to spill coffee over the front of his shirt.
“How much brandy did you have last night?” Stephen asked and threw him a napkin.
“Too much,” Allan muttered, mopping up the spilled coffee. “What did you say? You would marry Dorothy? Just for the sake of avoiding scandal? Good God, Stephen. I know you do not like the idea of a whispering ton, but that is beyond the pale even for you, to go so far to avoid a scandal.”
“You do not understand.” Stephen breathed deeply, knowing the time had come to tell Allan the complete truth. “I am not just asking to marry your sister to avoid a scandal. To be frank, at this moment, hang that painting.” He gestured toward his father’s portrait. “Hang everything he said. I’d rather save your sister from scandal than myself.”
“An admirable sentiment coming from you.” Allan nodded thoughtfully, but there was something more in his expression, something that suggested he wasn’t quite convinced.
“I want to marry her for another reason altogether.” Stephen waited until his friend looked at him over the rim of his coffee cup. “I cannot bear the thought of anyone marrying her, Allan… anyone but me.”
Allan lowered his coffee cup extraordinarily slowly, staring at him with an unreadable expression. “Do you love her?” he asked, eventually.
Stephen swallowed around a suddenly dry mouth. He didn’t want to be saying such things to Allan. He wanted to say them to Dorothy instead.
Without being able to find the words, he nodded instead.
Allan’s reaction was sudden. He leaned back in his chair, seeming infinitely more comfortable than he had been just moments ago.
“Well, here’s to my father,” he said suddenly, his words perplexing Stephen considerably as he raised his coffee cup in the air. “Never did I think he would foresee the future so well as this.”
“What did you say?” Stephen asked, leaning forward.
Allan laughed softly. The sound of his laughter dispelled part of the fear and pain inside of Stephen. At once, he realized how tightly coiled every emotion had been within him. All the nervousness, the fear, the need to see Dorothy again, it now softened with Allan’s familiar laughter.
“The Christmas before my father died, he said something to me, something I have never forgotten,” Allan spoke rather gently, turning to face Stephen fully. “We had just watched you and Dorothy play charades together. You made one another laugh and then argued for at least half an hour over which one of you had gotten the name of a book wrong. At the end of the argument, you served her tea in the way she loves it, and she gave you a Christmas present.”
“You seemed quite like… partners.” He chose the word carefully with a smile. “Father and I shared a port, and by that point, it was plain that his health was failing him. He looked at the pair of you across the room and said—with startling certainty, to my mind—that at least he had one comfort.”
