“I intend to see that you pay for it.”
“What? You can’t—that’s all speculation! No one will believe a word of it! You’re nothing but a baron’s son.” He was almost impotent with rage. “As a viscount, I’m the one who’ll be believed! I have friends—”
“You have acquaintances,” I corrected. “You may be a viscount, Haynsworth, but how long have the Ashfords possessed the title? Whereas the Trevalyans have been Barons of Pennington for the past four centuries. You’ll go to prison.”
Haynsworth curled his lip, and I could see he didn’t believe me.