A woman like that should have been snapped up at once. She was no silly young debutante on her first Season; he knew she had to be at least twenty. That she was yet unmarried was almost a travesty. Almost. At least it would be for her—if she had been married, she would be safe.
Instead she was swiftly approaching disaster, and she didn’t even know it. James fully intended to lead her to the precipice of it, take her to the very edge of that great yawning darkness, and shove her over. And he would not suffer a single pang of conscience over it. It would be right. Fair. An eye for an eye.
A sister’s honor for a sister’s honor.
Westwood had brought him to this pass. Westwood alone would be responsible for Lady Jillian’s downfall. And James would give him just the same answer that Westwood had given him just two weeks earlier. Not a chance in hell. Lady Jillian could go to the devil right alongside her debauched brother.
“James,” Nick sighed beneath his breath. “She doesn’t deserve this. Westwood might, but Lady Jillian is innocent.”
“Not for long.” Not if he had anything to do with it. “Spare me your recriminations, Nick. Moral superiority doesn’t suit you.”
Nick slanted him a sharp look. “I’ve never claimed to be a candidate for sainthood,” he said, tugging at his dark hair as he often did when he was anxious. “God knows I’ve accumulated sins enough for any ten men. But I have never intentionally hurt someone who has not trespassed against me. I have never harmed an innocent.” He shrugged his shoulders as if his coat had become too tight, his expression guarded.
Nick had been James’ closest friend for years and years. He knew Nick disapproved, but he had already set his course and he would not be swayed from it. “Will this make enemies of us?” he asked, his tone casual.
Nick hesitated, and James felt the shock of that straight down to his boots. But at last Nick said, “You’ve been my friend for too many years for me to abandon you now. I suppose I’m hoping that you’ll see reason before this goes past a harmless flirtation.” He shouldered away from the wall, a wry smile sliding across his face. “Perhaps I’ve got more faith in you than you do.”
Whatever faith Nick had was going to be tested to its limit. “I’m going,” James said. “Wish me luck.”
“Hell, no.” Nick replied. “I’m hoping you’ll fail. One of us has got to have some sense.” He scratched at the back of his neck and averted his eyes. “Just go,” he said. “Before I feel moved to lecturing.”
As close to a blessing as he was likely to get. James pushed away from the wall, skirting the throngs of people at the edges of the dance floor, winding his way through the crowd toward the refreshment table. Lady Jillian was not dancing, it seemed.