Page 47 of How to Ruin a Rake

“About Lady Carenza Musgrove.”

“Oh, that nonsense!” Landon grinned. “Well, what about it?”

“You drove me to Tavistock Square, and I persuaded her into the carriage,” Max said evenly. “We were supposed to simply circle the square until I convinced her to be seen in public with me so that I could win the wager. Instead, you drove out of London toward Suffolk.”

“I did no such thing.”

Max held his friend’s gaze. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Max, dear boy, are you quite well? I did not take the carriage into Suffolk.”

“Then who did?”

Landon burst out laughing. “My coachman, of course! I jumped ship at the earliest opportunity and let him take the reins. Is that where you ended up? In Suffolk? How amusing.”

Max set his jaw. “The carriage overturned. I have no idea what happened to your coachman. We were lucky to escape serious injury.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Max, it’s quite hilarious.”

“I can assure you that it wasn’t funny at the time. I’m going to send you a bill for the repairs.”

“Wait,” Landon said. “You said we. Don’t tell me you forgot to take Lady Carenza back home?” He started laughing again.

“Of course I took her back,” Max said hastily. “She was not amused, either.”

“Well, her opinion hardly counts in society, does it? She’s from bad stock, and it shows.”

Max looked at him. “What a snob you are, Landon.”

“Better than becoming a bore like you, Max,” Landon said. “You’re no fun anymore.”

“Maybe that’s true,” Max said. “At some point one does have to grow up and stop acting like a schoolboy.”

“Easy for you to say, when you’ll become a duke,” Landon said, all traces of amusement draining from his face. “And how dare you question how I choose to live my life?”

“I’m not questioning you, I’m questioning myself.”

“Fine, then toddle off and find some new friends. I’m sick and tired of being treated with such little respect.” Landon walked toward the door.

“As you wish,” Max said.

His friend swung around, his face contorted with anger. “You think you’re better than me? That just because you’re the son of a duke, you can behave how you like? Easy when you’re always conveniently forgiven because everyone wants to curry favor with you.”

“That has nothing to do with it,” Max said. “I suppose I’ve just grown up.”

Landon gave him one last scathing look and went out, slamming the door behind him.

Max let out his breath. Had he done the right thing being so direct? In his experience, Landon made a horrible enemy, but Max could no longer tolerate his antics. Landon hadn’t even asked after his missing coachman. His lack of regard for the life of another was truly breathtaking.

Max left the room and went back into the main salon. There was no sign of Landon or some of his former cronies, which meant he could enjoy a drink in peace.

“Your friends have all left.” A voice came from one of the wing chairs by the fire. “Perhaps you should hurry after them.” Max turned and found himself looking at his youngest brother, George.

Max took the chair opposite. “I have no desire to chase after them.”

George, who was a blonder version of Max, raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

“I am a changed man,” Max continued. “They behave like schoolboys, and I’m tired of it.”