Brazen Virtue

keeping the phone cradled on his shoulder. “Yes, Claire. I’m a bit pressed for time.”
    “Charlton, it’s Jerald.”
    After twenty years of marriage, Hayden knew his wife well enough to recognize true alarm. “What?”
    “I’ve just gotten a call from school. He was in a brawl.”
    “A brawl? Jerald?” With a half laugh, Hayden picked up his speech again. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    “Charlton, Dean Wight himself called me. Jerald was in a fistfight with another student.”
    “Claire, not only is that difficult to believe given Jerald’s temperament, it’s quite annoying to be called just because Jerald and some other boy had a tiff of some kind. We’ll discuss it when I get home.”

    “Charlton.” It was the sharp edge to her voice that prevented him from hanging up. “According to Wight this was not a little tiff. The other boy—he’s been taken to the hospital.”
    “Ridiculous.” But Hayden was no longer looking at his speech. “It sounds to me like a few cuts and bruises are being blown out of proportion.”
    “Charlton.” Claire felt her stomach flutter. “They’re saying Jerald tried to strangle him.”
    Twenty minutes later Hayden was sitting, ramrod straight, in Dean Wight’s office. In the chair beside him, Jerald sat with his eyes downcast and his mouth set. His white linen shirt was creased and smudged, but he’d taken the time to straighten his tie. The scratches on his face had been joined by darkening bruises. The knuckles of both hands were swollen.
    A look at him had affirmed Hayden’s opinion that the incident had been nothing more than a rough-and-tumble. Jerald would be called to task, certainly. A lecture, a reduction of privileges for a time. Still, Hayden was already working out his position should the matter leak to the press.
    “I hope we can clear this matter up shortly.”
    Wight nearly sighed. He was two years away from retirement and his pension. In his twenty years at St. James’s he’d taught, lectured, and disciplined the sons of the rich and the privileged. Many of his former students had gone on to become public figures in their own right. If he understood one solid fact about those who sent their offspring to him, it was that they didn’t care for criticism.
    “I know your schedule must be hectic, Senator Hayden. I wouldn’t have requested this meeting unless I felt it was for the best.”

    “I’m aware you know your job, Dean Wight. Otherwise Jerald wouldn’t be here. However, I’m forced to say that this entire scenario is being blown out of proportion. Naturally, I will not condone my son participating in fisticuffs.” This was said directly to the top of Jerald’s head. “And I can assure you this matter will be taken up at home, and dealt with.”
    Wight adjusted his glasses. It was a gesture both Hayden and Jerald recognized as the product of nervousness. Hayden sat patiently while Jerald gloated. “I appreciate that, Senator. However, as dean, I have a responsibility to St. James’s, and to the student body. I have no choice but to suspend Jerald.”
    Hayden’s mouth firmed. Jerald saw it out of the corner of his eye. Now that fat-faced dean was in for it, he thought.
    “I find that rather extreme. I went to a preparatory school myself. Skirmishes were frowned on, certainly, but they didn’t result in suspension.”
    “This was hardly a skirmish, Senator.” He’d seen the look in Jerald’s eyes when he’d had his hands around young Lithgow’s throat. It had frightened him, frightened him badly. Even now, studying the boy’s downcast face, he felt uneasy. Randolf Lithgow had suffered severe facial injuries. When Mr. Burns had attempted to break up the fight, Jerald had attacked him with a ferocity that had sent the older man to the ground. He had then tried to choke the nearly unconscious Lithgow until several members of the student body managed to restrain him.
    Wight coughed into his hands. He knew the power and wealth of the man he was speaking with. In all probability, Hayden would be the next president. To have had the son of a president graduate from St. James’s would be a tremendous coup. It was that, and only that, that prevented Wight from expelling Jerald.
    “In the four years Jerald has been with us, we have never had a problem of any kind in his conduct or his studies.”
    Naturally, Hayden had expected no less. “In that case, it appears Jerald must have been extremely provoked.”

    “Perhaps.”