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“Your friend asked why I disliked him,” Arthur said.

“I’m simply outlining the reasons.” He looked at me and I was ashamed to find that even now, with his borderline repulsive argument, that he was still troublingly handsome.

It made sense that someone so beautiful was so dreadful; it seemed the latest in the line of men who caught my eye only to prove that they had undeniable inner demons.

I was—and still am—a man with poor taste.

“An opening argument, to use his profession’s terms.”

“Your argument has a massive hole in it, though,” I said, pleased with how level I could keep my voice in the face of what was clearly a man needling for a fight.

Upon reflection, I half think that Arthur was looking for an excuse to send me back to London early, but this attempt on his part failed spectacularly.

I had been known throughout my school years as a right-fighter, the sort of person who simply could not back down from an argument until the other person changed their viewpoint or gave up from sheer frustration, and I was sure that Arthur had no idea what Pandora’s box he had just opened in me.

“And what is that?” Arthur asked.

“I’m not Louis Garretty,” I said, finishing off my chicken and dragging my fork through a wonderfully thick preparation of potatoes.

“And you’re assuming, rather foolishly, that he trusted me enough to let me know about his ill deeds, if they in fact took place.

But I’d like to remind you that Charles and I have been friends since we were in our early teens, long before I ever became an apprentice under Mr. Garretty.

Do you really believe he would ask me to participate in the blackmail considering my relationship with Charles? ”

For the first time since sitting down to dinner, I could see on Arthur’s face that my words had not fallen on deaf ears.

He seemed to consider this point for a few moments longer before the ghost of a smile curled at his lip and he turned back to his meal.

I saw Charles relax across from me and realized that while I had undoubtedly not fully changed Arthur’s mind, I had made him reconsider his position.

It was nice to know that my living making arguments had served me in another way—I had become persuasive in general conversation as well.

For a man who had never been particularly quick to come up with a witty repartee, it provided a great comfort to know that I was now able to hold my own, even though I very much had Charles acting as a buffer.

I had not believed, not truly, that Arthur could do anything more dreadful than dislike me, and it had kept me from panicking as I might have had I thought him capable of actually driving me out.

After our slight argument, dinner passed mostly in silence, with Charles and I making small talk and Arthur eating quietly, replying only when his brother addressed him directly and never when I did.

As soon as the meal had finished and the pudding had been cleared away, Arthur excused himself and made his quick departure from the dining room with hardly even a good evening.

Charles looked across the table at me, sipping his wine; I wasn’t sure how many glasses he’d had by this point, but I knew that I’d had just as many.

I wasn’t fuzzy, not really, but I was feeling much more gracious about what had just transpired than I would have if not helped along by the alcohol. “So,” he said, and I smiled at him.

“So. Did you know your brother held such strong views about me?”

“I knew he held such strong views regarding Louis Garretty,” Charles said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “But I thought he would hold his tongue.”

“He was being honest about Garretty blackmailing him?” I asked, because while I had read it on Charles’s face earlier, I wanted to hear it from him in so many words. “Because I don’t know anything about that. I was one of a half-dozen apprentices he took on that year.”

“He was being honest, but I don’t know what Garretty blackmailed him for,” Charles said, leaning forward and looking at me across the flickering candle that sat between us at the oak table.

“It was while we were at Cambridge, and by the time I got wind of it, you had already accepted the apprenticeship. I couldn’t stand in your way, Tom, not when I knew how hard you’d worked for it.

I didn’t think Arthur would think you were taking after Garretty in more than just law. ”

“But he did think that, didn’t he? That I’m corrupt, despite having never met me before.”

Charles sighed, and I could practically see him knocking the toes of his left foot against the floor of the dining room, a nervous habit he’d had since we’d been at Eton together.

“I think… no. I know that Arthur believes you’re a social climber, Tom.

He believes that you saw me at Eton and decided that I would make a good ladder. ”

The thought that my best friend’s family had taken me for a parasite was not as shocking as I think Charles had expected it to be.

I had heard it before, heard it from boys at Eton and men at Cambridge, heard it even now from people who were upset over legal dealings or who were jealous that I had done something nearly unthinkable by dragging myself out of middle class.

I sighed, taking another sip of my wine and trying to think of a way to respond that would explain my position without making Charles feel poorly.

He had always been a sensitive soul, and the idea that I had gone through any sort of trouble merely because of our friendship would upset him greatly.

My prolonged silence, however, was enough to tip Charles off. He looked at me, setting his glass of wine back down on the table. “You’re joking.”

“Charles, I’m a middle-class man whose best friend is sixteenth in line for the monarchy,” I said.

“Nearly everyone who has ever met you and I thinks that our friendship is solely because I am trying to gain something from it. Something more than just friendship, that is. Unfortunately, being connected to you means that most people doubt me as a result.”

“But it’s not true,” Charles said, and there was the indignation I thought that the realization would evoke. “Never once have you tried to use me, Tom.”

“And I never would, but that doesn’t stop people from speculating. Do you really think that I enjoy being seen as a leech? I’ve worked extremely hard for what I have, but I’m sure most people believe that I have it only because of who you are.”

“Including my brother,” Charles said, breathing out with clear irritation. “I never realized people thought of you that way. You should have told me.”

“I never wanted you to feel regret because of your friendship with me,” I said, and his face softened.

“So you just felt poorly for the both of us,” Charles said, rubbing his forehead. “I have never deserved you less and needed you as my friend more.”

“Now, now,” I said, laughing and getting to my feet.

“You are far too drunk to get yourself upset this way. Ideally, your brother would have liked me, but since he doesn’t…

I won’t let this ruin my vacation, Charles.

And you shouldn’t allow it to disrupt yours, either.

” I looked at the clock on the wall, an expensive piece that looked as though it had been brought straight from Switzerland.

“We should sleep, Charles. If I’m to put up with your brother at breakfast, I need at least eight hours. ”

“So responsible,” Charles said, but he got to his feet anyway, leaving his wineglass behind.

He stepped around the table, setting a broad hand on the side of my neck and squeezing affectionately, his fingers warm.

“I hope you know that I have only ever seen you as a positive in my life, Tom. No matter what anyone else thinks.”

He left the room before me, and I hung behind, not wanting to walk up to my room with him, knowing we were going in the same direction.

Despite everything I had told Charles, I was upset by his brother’s reception of me.

The late Lord Ashford had welcomed me, had told me upon our singular meeting that he trusted me to look after his son, who had a reputation for being more flighty than what was perhaps expected for the son of the lord even if there was little chance Charles would ever inherit the title.

For Arthur to dismiss me outright despite the trust of his father and brother was disheartening.

I made it my mission, standing in the dining room and waiting until I was sure Charles had returned to his room so I could return to mine in silence, to have Arthur Ashford like me by the time summer ended.