Dangerous in Diamonds - Madeline Hunter [51]
“Perhaps you are right. I have discovered the might of the pen, however. Words are so much more efficient in their influence when published. It is astonishing, really, how easily people can be led by prose that appeals to their sense of their own righteousness.”
Latham spoke bluntly, the way they had always spoken with each other. He admitted his hypocrisy with impunity to the only person with whom he had ever truly revealed himself.
Castleford sensed an effort here to re-form those old bonds. Maybe Latham found it lonely to have to play a role with the world and wanted a fellow sinner available again, so he might be offstage on occasion.
“So you pander to what people want to hear and read and call it moral philosophy,” Castleford said.
“I do not call it that. If others do, I cannot stop them.”
“What do you call it?”
“Fun. A wonderful joke. A game to see how many sheep will follow and just how far they will go with me. I have entertained myself to no end the last few years, Tristan. While I wield my pen, I often think of you and how you will howl with laughter when you read the treatise.”
Unfortunately, he was the only one laughing. Others took this fool seriously.
Castleford had already accepted that he was going to have to exercise his own power more regularly now, just to make sure that Latham did not accumulate too much influence in the government. What a bloody bore that would be. The reemergence of this man promised to be a tedious nuisance all around.
“I saw you walking by with Hawkeswell and that other man. The three ladies with you were notably beautiful,” Latham said. “I think that I recognized two of them.”
Castleford waited and said nothing. Latham had seen them walk by, and these two women were the reason why he followed, apparently. How ordinary.
“The golden haired one, the shorter blonde—isn’t she that Northrope whore’s daughter?” Latham asked.
“She is married now.”
“Pity. I offered for her, back when her mother was hawking her like a prize calf. The bitch of a whore would not hear me, because she had some fool of a boy in mind.”
More likely Mrs. Northrope sensed the character of the Earl of Latham. “She never entered her mother’s trade, and her husband would not hesitate to kill you if you insulted her. I am not joking, Latham.”
Latham seemed to accept the wisdom of not pursuing Mrs. Albrighton. “The other one—the tall fair woman. I am sure I know her too.”
Castleford ignored the prompt. He’d be damned before he encouraged this turn in the conversation.
“People change with the years, and she has matured, but I think that is Miss Avonleah. She was a governess for my father’s young girls after I had left the household.”
“I know her only as Mrs. Joyes.”
“I am sure that it is the same woman, although I have not seen her in—well, it must be eight or nine years now.” Latham speared him with a quizzical stare. “Is she your mistress? Or was she the intended conquest Hawkeswell spoke of?”
“She is a friend of Lady Hawkeswell and not my mistress. As for a conquest, she is too refined and reserved for me.”
Latham laughed lewdly. “That is right, I forgot. You like them vulgar, fast, cheap, and willing, Tristan.” He sipped more wine. “Unless they are vulnerable, sweet, and criminal instead.”
“I am in no mood for your poor attempts at being sly, Latham. Nor for this odd pretense that we still have a friendship and that I will not mind your addressing me by my Christian name the way you did when we were boys. You are bold to make even that oblique reference to Marie. You are even bolder to return to England with that on your head.”
“I had to return, but that business would not have stopped me anyway. I stole from a thief, at worst, if you insist on being meticulous. As it turned out, I also sold her a few extra months of life.”
“You remained silent when you knew where the money was going.”
“Hell, you have always made too much of that too. Her friends were never going to succeed in funding an army. She was on a fool’s errand, and at worst I fleeced a spy.” He