His father was a murderer, that was beyond question. He’d left Daizell twisting in the wind, and nothing could change his feelings about that. But if his father had been provoked into that act by being cheated in a way it was so very hard to expose or prove . . .
It hadn’t had to happen. None of the last miserable seven years had had to happen. His father might have spent his worthless life without doing significant harm to anyone. Daizell might have encountered Cassian – not on equal terms of course, but at least not kneeling in the wreckage of his name. He could have been spared seven years of cuts and insults, whispers and sneers and shame and the slow sucking away of hope.
But Vier had robbed his father, and put Daizell’s destruction in motion, and then set out to ruin what was left of his name as a precaution, just in case he knew too much.
‘The shit,’ he said dizzily. ‘The shit.’
‘If we’re right,’ Cassian said. He was kneeling by the bed, his hands hot on Daizell’s unless Daizell’s were cold.
‘We are. It fits.’
‘It does. Though how we might prove it, I don’t know. Are you all right?’
‘No, I am not. Why would he do that – no, I know why, but Christ! I never threatened him. I never knew. I wassorryfor the man, curse it. I apologised to him!’
‘But your father could have written to you at any time. Said,this is why I did it.’
‘I doubt I have crossed my father’s mind from that day to this,’ Daizell said. ‘The idea that he might write at all, let alone stoop to explain himself as though he’d done something wrong . . . ha. I suppose my mother might have written, but if she did, it never reached me. Vier wasted a great deal of unnecessary effort in ruining me.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Cassian whispered. ‘Or – no. I’m not sorry.’ His hands tightened. ‘I’mfurious. I am so angry. How dare they? How dare any of them? Your father, Vier, Haddon and Plath, Acaster, that swine who outraged Martin – they’re all the same in their different ways, and none of it is right, and I am going to do something about it. About all of them and more. And we will start with Vier, but by God I will not be finishing there.’
His eyes were bright with wrath. Daizell looked at him, stiff and fierce in defence. ‘Swinging your duke around?’
‘Hittingthem with it.’
‘I’m looking forward to this.’ Daizell took a brief moment to wonder what he might have let loose on the world in the person of an enraged duke, and decided the world deserved it. He pulled Cassian’s hands up, kissed the knuckles. ‘Cass. I’m so glad I have you with me.’
‘Always,’ Cassian said. ‘Always. Now teach me to play whist properly, because I’m going todothis.’
They played for another couple of hours, until Daizell’s head was swimming. Cassian looked positively dizzy, and when he forgot what card he’d just played for the third time in a row, Daizell called a halt.
‘You look befogged.’
‘I am befogged. Where is the fun in this?’ Cassian wailed. ‘It’s more luck than skill, unless one can remember every card played in every hand and then forget it again when one starts the new hand, yet people bet money they can’t afford on it. Ridiculous. Wagering is foolish enough – as I should know, but at least I had some chance of controlling the outcome.’
‘Gambling isn’t about controlling the outcome, though, unless you’re a professional, or Vier. It’s about . . .’ Daizell thought back on his own days of play. ‘Excitement. Recklessness. Staking more than you can afford on a matter of pure chance even if everyone says they’ve a system, or a lucky way to roll a die, or a good tip on a horse. The truth is, gambling is pitting yourself against the world, and winning confirms what everyone secretly believes: that they’re Fortune’s favourite.’
‘Unless they lose, and it turns out they’re her fool.’
‘Yes, well, that’s the other outcome. Don’t you feel any appeal in it at all?’
‘No, honestly. I would feel dreadful if I lost the sums Leo did. I could afford it a dozen times over but how wasteful, how unappreciative of my own good luck it would be to throw that away.’
‘Yes, I suppose a duke doesn’t need to prove he’s Fortune’s favourite, does he? You already know. On which subject . . .’
‘Mmm?’
Daizell sighed. ‘I know we’ve spoken about this. I know you’re determined. But the truth is, it’s going to be a challenge to have Vier play and cheat and be caught. It may not be manageable, and we both may end up looking ridiculous, and you may find yourself in the position of having people think you’re a fool on a number of levels, including your association with me.’
‘I realise that,’ Cassian said. ‘People might well think I’m a ridiculous gull. But, you know, if they think that, they will be wrong.’
‘That isn’t much consolation.’
Cassian took his hand. ‘I expect it has not been, for you on your own with the world against you. But you aren’t on your own now, and nor am I. And I’mright. If the world thinks badly of you, the world is mistaken. And perhaps the world will think badly of me for thinking well of you, and if so, that’s something I will live with, because I know what matters, and it is not the opinion of people who aren’t in possession of the facts.’
Daizell’s experience had been that the opinions of those people mattered a great deal. Then again, he wasn’t a duke. And Cassian wasn’t without his own experience of being disregarded or mocked, in its way: he knew what it felt like, he was always in the public view, and he had a great deal of reputation to lose.
And yet here he was, putting himself at hazard for Daizell.
