He held out the green waistcoat. “If the red one is too uncomfortable, then perhaps you should try this one, my lord. It is quite fetching.”

Brand sat up. “Good God, are those mother-of-pearl buttons?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Anthony said. “I’ll take the blue one, Ledbetter. Put that other one away.”

“But sir, I thought perhaps—”

“The blue one.”

“Better listen to him, Ledbetter,” Brand said. “He’s in the devil of a temper this morning.”

The valet hesitated, then glanced at his employer and nodded. “As you wish, my lord.” He laid the blue waistcoat on the bed and then slowly left the room, his shoulders bent, his head down.

Brand watched him go. “I may attempt to steal Ledbetter from you. He’d get a good deal more joy from dressing a man of fashion than a country squire.”

“Steal him, if you can. He won’t go.”

Brand’s blue eyes turned his way. “Paying him through the nose, are you?”

“You wouldn’t be enough of a challenge. Ledbetter has devoted his life to trying to improve me.” Anthony took a cravat from the pile and carelessly knotted it about his neck. “I think he’s vowed to reform me or die trying.”

Brand winced. “At least attempt a decent knot.” He indicated his own neckcloth, which was an intricate concoction of knots and ties that defied description.

“What the hell do you call that?” Anthony demanded.

“The St. John. It’s my own creation.”

“How long did it take you to tie it?”

“Two hours.”

“That’s half a day!”

“You know, Anthony, it would do you a world of good to get out more, see some of the world.” Brand carefully smoothed his perfectly pressed cuff. “Might put some polish on you.”

There were many in society who thought Brandon St. John was a useless fribble, more interested in fashion than else. Anthony suspected Brand’s attachment to the cut of his new waistcoat and the turn of his cuff was simply his way to redirect attention from his private affairs.

And those, whatever they were, engrossed him an unusual amount of time. “When do you leave?”

“Don’t you like my company?”

“Of course I do. Behind that outlandish waistcoat is a man I’m proud to call brother.”

“My waistcoat is all the crack.”

“I’m sure it is. Or it will be, once you flash yourself about town. I’m merely surprised you haven’t raced off into the night as you so frequently do.”

“One must play. And when one has a particularly succulent lady friend who also likes to play…well, the possibilities are endless.”

Anthony wondered briefly if the reason Brand kept his lady friend such a secret was that she possessed a husband and thus they were required to be discreet. It was a possibility, for Brand had certainly been secretive of late. “Whatever you do, be cautious. I don’t want to have to explain to Marcus how you got your head blown off.”

“Marcus would draw my claret if I kicked up so much as a breath of scandal. He’s gotten rather peculiar about that lately.”