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him.
     
    “Come, I’ll take you to him. He’ll be pleased to see you.”
     
    Seeing his opportunity to relinquish Thorn to socialize with his family for a bit, Arthur gave both men a half bow. “If you will excuse me, I am going to seek out a footman for a drink.”
     
    Thorn’s gaze caught his. Arthur gave him another reassuring smile. Before Thorn could question him, he turned and began to make his way across the ballroom.
     
    It did not take long to locate a footman bearing a silver tray. Glass in hand, Arthur took up a spot along the wall. Thank heaven he had thought to change into his best coat and don a pair of appropriate gloves before Thorn had arrived at his bachelor apartments, else he’d have felt distinctly out of place. Not that he wasn’t acquainted with some of the guests. He recognized a few clients and some other men he’d met in the course of his business dealings. Over the years, he had received invitations to a handful of what he would define as supper parties. But an affair of this caliber, surrounded by members of the ton ? Somewhere Thorn would feel much more at home than Arthur would.
     
    His own discomfort mattered not, though. What mattered was that Thorn enjoyed himself.
     
    With that thought foremost in his mind, he kept the polite smile on his lips and contented himself with watching the guests. The musicians in the corner were playing a waltz. Elegant gentlemen paired with graceful ladies moved about the dance floor. He could easily pick out the unmarried ladies, dressed in white or pale pastel gowns, their gazes young and demure. He didn’t much mind if Thorn did his duty and stood up with any of them. For a man of Thorn’s social standing, it was expected at such a function. Though hopefully Thorn would not expect him to follow his lead. Dancing did not rank high at all on his list of accomplishments or favored ways to pass an evening.
     
    “Barrington, my good man.”
     
    An ice-cold fist grabbed his stomach. He knew that voice. Deep and cultured and backed with a good measure of arrogance. The man thought much too highly of himself. A fact Arthur recognized now and one he wished he’d have taken better note of years sooner.
     
    Keeping the polite smile firmly in place, Arthur took a step from the wall to greet Randolph Amherst.
     
    “Evening, Amherst.” He hesitated an instant before accepting Randolph’s handshake. Brief and perfunctory, just as the man had been in bed. With neatly combed blond hair and a thick, muscular build, Randolph differed from Thorn in more ways than his appearance.
     
    “How have you been, Barrington? I have not seen you in an age.”
     
    Three months to be exact, and deliberately done on Arthur’s part. “I am doing quite well, thank you. And yourself?”
     
    “Very well. The Bank of England continues to command my days, though I am giving thought to pursuing a seat in the House.”
     
    Arthur tipped his head and fought the urge to shift his weight. He struggled to find some bland topic to discuss, or better yet, a means to send Randolph on his way. To think he had once loved this man.
     
    A sharp echo of pain bit into his chest.
     
    Fool.
     
    Yes indeed, and a pathetic one at that.
     
    “I did not expect to see you here,” Randolph said. “I wasn’t aware you had a fondness for society. Not that it isn’t a pleasant surprise.”
     
    There were a lot of things about him that Randolph had never cared to learn. “I would not go so far as to deem it a fondness. I arrived with an acquaintance.” Should he have used the term friend? He did not want to discount his friendship with Thorn as if it meant nothing to him, nor did he have any desire to expose the full extent of their relationship. And why hadn’t the possibility of coming face-to-face with Randolph occurred to him? Of course Randolph would use Thorn’s uncle’s “supper party” as a means to flaunt his recent engagement to a daughter of a baron. “Did you arrive