Archive of Our Own ^beta

It wasn't often Robert Morehouse woke up hating himself. Only every day.

Under normal circumstances he would've tried to sneak out, but he was a one-legged man with a hangover and anyway this was his house. He scooted as far away from Elizabeth's sleeping form as he could without falling out of bed. He had reasons, he had strategy-- he always had strategy-- but some things were low even for him. Sleeping with Elizabeth Haverford was one of them, for a number of reasons. She was one of his best friends in society, for one thing. She was also apparently allergic to honesty, which was a point against her.

Robert had tried to work her secret out of her during the ball for the Colored Orphans' Asylum, with the expectation that she wouldn't lie to his face. Not in confidence, at least. He was wrong. She fed him some bull about her dead husband's mausoleum. Robert found this exceptionally low on two counts. One: she was using her asshole husband to deflect the blame; no one could blame a tragic widow. If you asked him, it was only tragic because she married the absolute shit of the earth in the first place. Two: She expected him to play along. It's one thing to boldly lie to someone and believe they know the truth, but she spoke like she thought her story was good and Robert would buy it.

Then, when the secret wasn't even on the table, she'd lied to Corky. Robert didn't know a whole lot about a whole lot, but he saw how Corky looked at her. He was a tortured man possessed by multiple affections, but Elizabeth made him happy. Plus, she'd been coming onto him like a dog in heat. Robert had never been anyone's husband, but he knew a thing or two about deceit: it makes people leave and never come back. He suspected that was half of it with the former Mrs. Corky, though he'd never gotten a straight answer. Kevin Corcoran was a suspicious fucking brick of a man; no deed, good or otherwise, went unpunished with him. And with all of the events surrounding his own daughter... Robert couldn't vouch for that sort of behavior from Elizabeth, nor could he possibly explain it.

Opiates were like a truth serum. Robert had used them on the turncoat with the Greek fire, a concoction that frankly scared the shit out of him, and which he desperately hoped he could stop from decimating his city. Robert was used to going undercover to get what he wanted, never showing his whole hand. He'd organized some great business agreements, and some absolute fucking disasters, but this time it felt a bit personal. Usually, his friends were the ones he got to reveal the plans to, sooner or later. He never expected he'd have to trick one to this degree. He never expected to have to get a woman high to get her to tell him the truth.

More than that, he never expected to get the information he did.

For the first time, Robert Morehouse really was in over his head.