“Yes. He very much wanted me to sit in the Lords and reasoned that my becoming a bishop was the only way for me to do that.”

“You’re the spare. Your brother’s death is another way.” He winked at Gregory, who wasn’t entirely sure how to take that. “I’m jesting,” Lord Lucien clarified. “My apologies. I can have a rather dark sense of humor at times. Of course I’m not advocating your brother’s untimely demise.”

“Of course not,” Gregory murmured. “The terrible truth is that my father might have laughed at that. He told me he wished I’d been his heir. He and my brother were…not close.”

“That sounds like me and my father,” Lord Lucien said, his tone frank and without emotion. “My older brother is, thankfully, the heir as well as being the favorite.”

“I can’t say I enjoy being the favorite. I wonder if my brother realized that. He never said.”

“It’s an open secret in our family. I have no illusions as to what my father thinks of me. I’m a disappointment and a general pain in his arse.” Lord Lucien lifted his glass a second time, then took a drink, the length of which seemed to indicate he was at least a little bothered by his father’s sentiments.

“How can that be true?” Gregory asked. “You’re successful—with a decorated military background, I believe—and well liked. Any father would be proud to call you his son.”

“Not mine. Don’t feel badly for me. I accepted his dissatisfaction long ago. Besides, not everyone finds me so agreeable. Have you not heard that in some circles, I am called a devil?”

“Why?”

Lord Lucien shrugged. “My ‘reckless’ ways and my association with people who are beneath me.” He leaned toward Gregory and lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “Because the Phoenix Club welcomes men who are in…trade.” He widened his eyes as if he’d just imparted a horrible piece of gossip.

Gregory rolled his eyes. “I realize that bothers some people, but that makes them more in line with the devil than you, I think.”

“Coming from a man who has engaged in extensive religious study, I shall take that as a compliment.”

It occurred to Gregory that his brother could very well be in that circle who regarded Lord Lucien in that manner. Sipping his whisky, Gregory thought of Clifford and the fact that he’d have to pay a call on him and his wife at some point. Probably. He really should.

Thankfully, Evie walked in and interrupted those annoying thoughts. Her dark purple gown sparkled with what had to be crystals sewn into the embroidery on the bodice and around the hem. She always looked stunning, and he wondered if her appearance would ever cease to steal his breath.

“Ah, Evie has arrived,” Lord Lucien said softly. “I’m sure you wish to speak with her.”