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with your future bride?”
     
    “Yes, she’s chatting with a few friends.” He spoke with such casual disregard that Arthur suspected Randolph felt no more for his future bride than he had felt for Arthur. Poor woman. “I was planning to head to the card room for a game of whist. I could use a partner,” Randolph added.
     
    The tone of Randolph’s voice, the intent in his blue eyes… Arthur recognized it from a decade ago, when the man had first shown up at his apartments. By the end of the evening, Arthur had lost his virginity.
     
    Did Randolph wish to resume their relationship? No, no . Arthur had been quite clear in his refusal to continue…whatever it was they’d actually had when the man had informed him of his intent to marry. His discomfort at having to converse with Randolph for the first time since they had parted was simply making him read more into his words than Randolph intended.
     
    As if somehow sensing his thoughts, Randolph took a half step closer, coming dangerously close to breaching the line of polite distance. A hint of a smile curved his usually cold mouth. A mouth that had touched Arthur’s prick only on the most infrequent of occasions. “I have missed our evenings,” he said, pitched for Arthur’s ears only.
     
    Arthur stiffened, his grip tightening on his glass. His heart slammed against his ribs.
     
    How was he to convey to Randolph—at a ton ball no less—that he had absolutely no interest in him anymore? And much to his shock, he was now certain of Randolph’s intentions. Hell, he shouldn’t be shocked. Randolph held no stock in the concept of fidelity. The man had visited brothels, for Christ’s sake, when they had been together.
     
    That echo of pain bit into his chest again.
     
    Arthur opened his mouth, but before he could get the word no out, a familiar hand settled on his shoulder.
     
    “Ah, there you are, Barrington.”
     
    Thorn’s drawled words washed over him. The tension briefly eased from Arthur’s spine only to seize it once again as the full extent of the situation hit him. His former lover before him and his current lover at his side. And Thorn did not have a reputation for being a model of discretion.
     
    Please, Thorn, please don’t take issue with him.
     
    “My apologies, Amherst, for the interruption.” Thorn tipped his head to Randolph, all politeness, as if he had never once referred to the man as a damn heartless, cuckolding prig. Without a trace of anything more than friendship in his eyes, he looked to Arthur. “The Duke of Menteith is in need of another solicitor and wishes to make your acquaintance. If you would, I will see to the introduction.”
     
    Arthur gathered his wits and nodded, jumping on a plausible reason to escape Randolph. “If you will excuse us, Amherst,” he said, careful to avoid his former lover’s gaze.
     
    He fell into step beside Thorn as the man wound his way around the perimeter of the ballroom. “You are acquainted with His Grace?” he asked once his pulse had returned to something that approached normal levels. Menteith was a powerful duke with many and varied business interests. To secure him as a client would be a huge boon for his office.
     
    “He is my godfather. An old family friend. My father wishes to speak to you about something or other as well.” Thorn slowed his step as they came upon a footman bearing a silver tray. “Would you care for another glass of champagne?”
     
    “No, thank you.” He glanced down, relieved to see Thorn’s hands empty of any sort of glassware. Then he set his own glass on the tray as they passed the footman.
     
    Thorn led him into the supper room and to one of the tables situated near the tall windows, the velvet drapes drawn back, revealing the night sky. Only two men sat at the table that would hold four. Thorn’s father, Viscount Granville, and across from him a distinguished-looking older gentleman with short, white hair.
     
    “I’ve brought you a