Chapter 19 #2
"I make it my business to pay attention.
" Henry leaned back in his chair. "Here is what I propose.
You need connections—real ones, not the false flattery and backstabbing that passes for friendship among most of the ton.
I need something to do that does not involve listening to Weatherby and his friends discuss their tailors for three hours. We help each other."
"And what, precisely, would this help entail?"
"Introductions," Henry said. "To men who actually matter. Investors for your estate improvements. Political connections if you ever decide you want a seat in Parliament. And in exchange, you let me tag along and enjoy watching you terrify the worst of London Society into behaving themselves."
Despite himself, Gregory felt something almost like amusement. "You want to be friends with me because I am intimidating?"
"I want to be friends with you because you are honest," Henry corrected. "Brutal, occasionally violent, and utterly lacking in social graces—but honest. That is rarer than you might think."
Gregory considered this. He did need allies. And something about Henry felt... genuine. Not the careful performance most of London seemed to require, but actual directness.
"One condition," Gregory said.
"Name it."
"If I discover you have been lying to me—about anything—I will not give you the courtesy of a warning. I will simply ensure you regret it."
Henry's smile widened. "I would expect nothing less." He raised his glass. "To honest friendships and terrifying the idiots."
Gregory raised his own glass, clinked it against Henry's, and drank.
Perhaps London would not be entirely unbearable after all.
They talked for another hour. Or rather, Henry talked and Gregory occasionally contributed laconic responses that seemed to delight rather than offend his new acquaintance.
Henry proved to be surprisingly knowledgeable about estate management, having recently inherited his own property after his father's death two years prior.
He asked intelligent questions about Gregory's plans for his tenants, offered suggestions about which architects and engineers might be worth consulting, and seemed genuinely interested in the practical challenges of managing an estate rather than simply extracting maximum profit from it.
"You should meet my estate manager," Henry said at one point. "Brilliant man. Completely revolutionized our drainage system and nearly doubled crop yields in three years. I could arrange an introduction if you like."
"I would," Gregory said. "My uncle let everything fall into disrepair. I am starting from nothing."
"Then you will need all the help you can get." Henry signaled for more whiskey. "What about your duchess? Is she the managing sort?"
Gregory thought of Anthea—sharp-tongued, fiercely intelligent, utterly unwilling to be dismissed or ignored. "Very much so."
"Good. You will need her. The social side of estate management is just as important as the practical side, and if she has connections among the ton—"
"She does," Gregory confirmed. "And she is far better at navigating Society than I am."
"That is not difficult," Henry said with a grin. "A trained bear would be better at navigating Society than you are."
"The bear would probably be more diplomatic," Gregory agreed.
Henry laughed, loud enough to draw a few disapproving glances from nearby tables. He ignored them entirely. "I like you, Everleigh. You are refreshingly terrible at pretending to be civilized."
"I am not pretending," Gregory said. "I am simply myself. Take it or leave it."
"Oh, I am definitely taking it." Henry leaned forward conspiratorially.
They lapsed into comfortable silence, both nursing their whiskey and watching the room. The young lords by the fireplace had long since departed, leaving only older gentlemen who seemed content to ignore Gregory's presence entirely.
"You know," Henry said eventually, "you are going to have to do this again."
"Do what?"
"Establish dominance. This is not the only club in London, and men like Weatherby have friends everywhere. They will test you. Try to undermine you. Spread rumors."
"Let them try," Gregory said.
Henry smiled. "That is the spirit. Just try not to actually kill anyone. The paperwork is apparently quite extensive."
Gregory allowed himself a small smile. "I make no promises."
"Fair enough." Henry finished his whiskey and stood. "I should go. But I meant what I said—about being allies. You need anything, send word. My townhouse is in Mayfair, and I am almost always available. Mostly because I have nothing better to do than avoid my mother's matchmaking schemes."
"I will remember," Gregory said.
Henry clapped him on the shoulder—a familiar gesture that Gregory would have resented from most people but somehow did not mind from this man who seemed incapable of false pretense—and headed for the door.
Gregory remained in his chair, finishing his whiskey slowly.
He had come here to establish connections, to build the foundation Anthea had suggested he needed. He had expected hostility, had prepared for social maneuvering and careful political games.
What he had not expected was to actually like someone.
Henry Ashford was... different. Direct in a way that reminded Gregory of his military colleagues. Honest about his intentions. Genuinely interested in practical matters rather than social climbing.
And if Henry was looking for an interesting woman to marry—someone with thoughts in her head—well.
Poppy was certainly interesting. Vivacious, opinionated, utterly uninterested in following Society's rules about proper feminine behavior.
Gregory smiled into his whiskey glass.
Perhaps this friendship would prove mutually beneficial after all.
But first, he needed to survive the next six days.
Six days until his wedding.
Six days until Anthea became his duchess.
Six days until he discovered whether the attraction between them could become something more—or whether she would maintain her walls forever, leaving them both trapped in a marriage of convenience that satisfied neither.
He drained the last of his whiskey and stood.
Time to go home and continue the careful campaign of wearing down his future wife's defenses.
After all, he had always been excellent at strategy.
And Anthea Croft was a challenge worth winning.