Free The Heiress Effect by Courtney Milan Page A

said.
    It wasn’t a lie. Not really. He wouldn’t do
what Bradenton wanted; there was no need to tell her about it.
    And if you do decide to do it, it’s best not
to mention it. You’re just keeping your options open.
    Oliver pushed that voice away.
    “You’re not alone,” Oliver said.
    It was ninety-five percent of the truth.
     

    Oliver took leave of the company a few minutes
after midnight. He was rather surprised when Bradenton followed
after him, walking with him to the pavement out front. Instead of
ignoring him, though, the marquess called for his carriage and
gestured to Oliver. Oliver came—reluctantly—to stand by him.
    “You should meet them,” Oliver said quietly.
“The people who will be most affected by the extension of the
franchise. You’ll see—”
    Bradenton laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous,
Marshall. I meet them every day. They stitch my shoes and measure
me for my trousers. I cannot walk anywhere without tripping over a
worker. Showing me yet another one won’t help your case.”
    Oliver contemplated the shapes of the
buildings across the way. In the dark, he couldn’t make out much
more than the silhouette of peaked roofs, rough dark pools of
windows with lamplight glimmering from them. The sound of
Bradenton’s carriage—hoof clops and the creak of leather—drifted to
them from the mews behind the building.
    “I said meet them,” Oliver replied.
“Not use their services. Meet them. Talk with them. See what
sort of men they are. My sister-in-law and I are organizing a set
of dinners when I return to London, for—”
    “You mean I should treat them as my social
equals? I do enough charity work, Marshall.” He smiled. “Here I am,
talking to you.”
    If this is a sample of your charity, I’m
sure you’re well-loved on your estate.
    But he didn’t say it. He held all his
complaints in the stillness of his heart, marking them down to
accounts earned but not yet repaid.
    “You’ve always been amusing,” Oliver said
instead. “But there’s no need to laugh off what I’m trying to tell
you. Which is—”
    Bradenton laughed. “Leave off, Marshall. I
don’t want to talk to you about your precious reform.”
    The carriage turned the corner, a dark ghost
in the mist.
    Bradenton turned to Oliver. “You’re thinking
about my proposition. You cannot know how gratifying I find that,
to know I judged you rightly after all.”
    Oliver’s hand tightened, his knuckles
whitening.
    “So what did you mean with her tonight, then?
I suppose if you want to hurt her by making her fall in love with
you and then sending her into a decline, it will serve. Still, that
seems overly sordid.”
    “You can’t hurt someone you don’t know,”
Oliver said. And I know you well. “Sometimes the easiest way
to break a person is to make him think you’re on his side and then
withdraw your support.”
    He shouldn’t have spoken words laden with
such double meaning. But Bradenton laughed.
    “That is why I need you to do it. I’ll pay
you no false compliments, Marshall. I admit, I have a personal
interest in seeing Miss Fairfield too unhappy to move about in
society any longer.” His lip curled. “But you’re clever and too
ambitious by half. I won’t allow you a foothold until I’m sure of
you.”
    “One choice on my part will make you
sure?”
    “No.” Bradenton shrugged. “One, you’ll
dismiss as accident. Two, you’ll doubt yourself. Three times…” He
paused, as if recalling something. “Three times, and you’ll
convince yourself you were right to act as you did. Three times
doing a thing will change a man’s character.”
    “So there will be other tasks, then.” He
couldn’t do it. Even contemplating this one made him feel sick to
his stomach. It brought back old memories, memories he had long
since vanquished to their rightful place.
    But Bradenton shook his head. His carriage
stopped in front of him, and a footman jumped down to open the
door. Bradenton advanced forward,