AS they wandered through her brother’s elaborate gardens with its maze of paths, Minerva couldn’t help but wonder if he’d figured her out. But if he had, wouldn’t he announce it? Wouldn’t he simply say, “Aha! I’ve deduced that you are Lady V!”
If he hadn’t figured her out, then why were they here? Rich, powerful, devilishly handsome men did not escort her through gardens.
She wasn’t accustomed to having a man’s attention like this. Oh, she’d certainly gone on her share of walks, but they’d always left her in low spirits when her partner unwittingly—or in some cases wittingly—remarked on her “fetching” dowry as though he were seeking to court it rather than her. She didn’t want that to happen here, didn’t want him to tarnish her memories of last night.
“At the Dragons you mentioned a marriage proposal,” he said. “Have you had many?”
“A few.”
“None were to your liking?”
“I liked one of them rather a lot until he informed me that I was to make sure that I got with child quickly and produced a son. He would not tolerate any daughters. After he had his spare, we would be done.”
“Done?”
Because she had liked him, his words had been particularly hard to hear. “Yes. After that, I was free to take a lover, as he intended to keep his mistress. He didn’t care for me or my feelings on the matter in the least.”
“He should have at least pretended.”
His words gave her pause. Was he pretending? When they were at the Nightingale, what passed between them seemed more honest than what she usually encountered with men. “I prefer the honesty. I wrote my guide because some men are ever so good at pretending, but it’s very difficult to hold on to that pretense for a lifetime. When it fades away, a lady might find herself surprised by what she’s left with.”
“Well, I can certainly understand your caution.”
“I’m a spinster by choice because I refuse to be burdened with a man who doesn’t love me. I’m fortunate to be blessed with parents who don’t believe my singular purpose in life is to be a wife.”
“Is that why you seek out opportunities like cattle ventures?”
She laughed lightly, striving to play down her talents. “I have a head for business and numbers. Too many in the aristocracy fail to comprehend there is a change in the wind. The gents within my intimate circle do understand, and they appreciate my business acumen. Unfortunately, some men are threatened by it. And I fear it makes me a dreadfully dull strolling partner.”
“On the contrary. You fascinate me, Miss Dodger.”
She tamped down the joy his words brought. Other men had taught her to be vigilant, not to take compliments at face value. Yet she believed him, wanted to desperately. More than that, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted the intimacy they’d shared, but how could she acquire that without revealing she was Lady V?
Perhaps he sensed her yearning. He began leading her off the path. A harsh clearing of a throat stopped him in his tracks. He glanced over his shoulder. “Is that your brother and his wife walking toward us?”
Minerva looked back, sighed. “Yes, he’s a bit protective of my reputation. He doesn’t want me to be forced into marriage because a gent behaved badly.”
“Have some behaved badly?”
His question surprised her, even more so the tone of it, as though he was angered by the thought. “One did rip my bodice, thinking if it appeared I was compromised, we’d have a hasty trip to the altar.”
“Dear God, you can’t be serious.”
“I’m afraid I am. The next time I saw him, he was quite bruised and battered. I’m not certain who meted out the punishment: my father or one of my brothers. Lovingdon has been a hovering hen ever since.” Turning slightly, she called back, “I’m fine.”
“Grace was in need of some air,” Lovingdon said, as they neared.
“I’m sure she was,” Minerva muttered.
The couple stopped, and she was very much aware of Lovingdon sizing up Ashebury. “Should probably avoid the shadows,” her brother said. “Might find yourself slamming into a fist.”
“I have no plans to compromise your sister,” Ashebury said, and Minerva wondered at her disappointment. Nor did the irony escape her—he’d already compromised her. He just didn’t know it.
“Plans can sometimes go awry,” Lovingdon said flatly.
“For God’s sake, Lovingdon,” Minerva snapped. “Nothing is going to happen that I don’t want to happen.”
“What exactly do you want to happen?” he asked sharply.
“Sweetheart,” Grace said, flattening her palm against his chest. “We should probably return to our guests right about now.”
“Not until I have an answer.”
“It’s truly not any of our business.” He looked at his wife as though she’d gone mad. She cradled his cheek. “She’s old enough to know her own mind. Now come along.”
Glaring at Ashebury, he gave a long, slow nod. “Yes, all right.” Then he tilted his head at Minerva. “Remember what I taught you.”
“Enjoy the gardens,” Grace said before urging her husband back toward the residence.
“That was interesting,” Ashe said.
“I’m sorry. He can be a bit much sometimes.”
“It’s not a problem. If I had a sister, I would probably want to look after her as well.”
She couldn’t help but think that his sister would be a very fortunate girl. “Shall we carry on?” she asked.
“What did he teach you?”
The heat of embarrassment rushed up her cheeks. “How to double a man over with my knee.”
His eyes widened. “I see. Not trusting men seems to be common in your family.”
“Again, it’s not that we don’t trust men. We question their motives.”
“Quite right.” He offered his arm, and she took it. They’d taken merely three steps when he said, “You didn’t answer his question.”
“Which question was that?”
“What exactly do you want to happen?”
IT was too soon. He knew that. If he didn’t take into account their time at the Nightingale, it was too soon. But that lay between them, whether or not she admitted it. The remnants of last night lingered, sharpened the senses, made him more aware of her than he might have been otherwise. He couldn’t help but believe that she was experiencing the same desires, the same needs.
He waited, when all he really wanted was to usher her into the shadows and kiss her senseless. Give her a reminder of why she should return to the Nightingale, what would be waiting for her there with him. She glanced around as though searching for an answer.
“It’s not that difficult a question,” he said.
She looked past him, and only then did he become aware of the footsteps nearing. A couple, talking low, walked past them, took a path to the left.
“If we carry on in this direction,” she said quietly, “we’ll reach a small arched bridge that crosses a shallow fishpond. I would like to go there. I think you might find it of interest.”
He offered his arm, welcomed the feel of her gloved fingers grasping it. As they began walking along, he was half-tempted to glance back over his shoulder to ensure that Lovingdon wasn’t traipsing along behind them.
“I noticed you arrived with Mr. Alcott,” she said as though having a need to fill in the silence stretching between them, and he wondered if she weren’t quite comfortable with him. “I suppose you’re aware that the lot of you are referred to as the hellions of Havisham.”
A corner of his mouth lifted up. “We’re familiar with the term being applied to us. Although Grey isn’t the hellion he once was.”
“And you?”
He didn’t know why he felt as though she were giving him a test, but she was studying him as though his answer was of importance. “It’s quite possible that I could find myself tamed in the near future. Are you of a mind to do some taming, Miss Dodger?”
She slowly shook her head. “I wouldn’t want you tamed.”
“I’m extremely glad to hear that.”
“So where will your adventures take you next?” she asked, shifting their conversation in a different direction as though not quite comfortable with where it had been heading.
“To someplace rather boring I’m afraid. My parents’ residence in Mayfair. I’m moving there in the next few days.”
He was aware of her studying him, even though he wasn’t quite able to bring himself to meet her gaze. He wondered how she might react if she knew the state of his affairs. A woman with a head for business who was putting together information on a cattle venture in another country would no doubt consider him an idiot for his inability to make sense of numbers. On the other hand, she would be able to make sense of what he could not—if he could swallow his pride. Which he couldn’t. He’d choke on it first.
“I suppose it’s none of my business, but why weren’t you already living there?” she asked.
“I wasn’t ready to face the memories. It was the last place I saw them alive.” He did look at her then. Although there were only a few gas lamps lining the path, they provided enough light for him to see the sympathy reflected in her face. He couldn’t recall ever talking about his parents with any other lady, yet he had done it with her twice now. Something about her implied that she was a safe haven.
“Hopefully, you have some good memories there to overshadow the bad ones,” she said softly, her fingers digging into his arm as she gripped it more tightly, conveying an astonishing sense of comfort.
“Haven’t given a good deal of thought to my time there before they died.” Except for the memories that bombarded him after he crossed the threshold. They still clung to him. “Their deaths overshadowed everything else, but perhaps you’re right. Once I’ve taken up residence again, I’ll recall happier times.” But he was ready to move away from his past and back into the present. “Have you traveled, Miss Dodger?”
“When I was younger, I visited Lovingdon’s estate a few times, but as a rule, my father doesn’t like to leave London, so I never really got into the habit of traveling. I can’t imagine all the things you’ve seen.”
“I have a good many photographs. You’re welcome to see them, browse through them.” He thought he felt her fingers flinch.
“Do you only take photographs when you’re traveling?”
He almost gave her a devilish look. Was she going to play the innocent when she knew damned well the sort of photographs he took? But they were engaged in a game. He wasn’t quite certain of the rules, but he suspected that she had some. “I photograph anything that brings me pleasure.”
“Then you should like the bridge.”
They’d reached it. Barely wide enough for the two of them to step on side by side. Stopping halfway across, she removed her hand from his arm and grabbed the railing.
“I like to come here and toss bread crumbs to the fish and the swans,” she said quietly. “It’s always peaceful. All the foliage, bushes, and hedges seem to block the sounds from the city.”
He moved up until his body was almost touching hers—not quite, but almost. Caution was his ally. He didn’t want to misread the situation, her reason for guiding him to this secluded bit of the gardens. “There’s not as much light here,” he said.
“No, there’s not. I’m not sure why Lovingdon didn’t illuminate this area better.”
“I’m glad he didn’t. I like shadows.”
She turned her head slightly until she was looking at him. “They can hide a good many sins.”
“You don’t strike me as a sinner or someone who would have anything to hide.”
“At one time or another, we’re all sinners, we all have something to hide.”
Her words were said softly, and yet they struck home with a force that nearly toppled him off the bridge. She couldn’t possibly know about his financial situation, that he was willing to do whatever necessary to rectify it. She was probably referring to the photographs he took at the Nightingale. While he’d never shown them to anyone, he knew that not all the ladies who posed as his models were discreet. But he didn’t care if people knew he took them. A few gents had even asked to see them; they’d been disappointed to learn he didn’t share.
He knew what she had to hide. Her visit to the Nightingale. But her hiding her identity caused problems in his pursuit of her. There was a chance he would slip, take a misstep. He couldn’t have both Lady V and Minerva Dodger. He was going to have to settle on one. Minerva wouldn’t want him if he had an affair with Lady V at the Nightingale. Even if she was the same woman, she wouldn’t know he knew that. He needed her to trust him, completely and absolutely, if he was to have any chance of winning her over—either as a lover or a wife.
“What do you want to happen, Minerva?” he asked.
Her eyes widened slightly, her lips parted. “You’re being a bit familiar using my given name.”
“You’ve led me away from the house and into the shadows. What do you want to happen?” he repeated.
“Are you going to make me say it? Surely you can guess.”
“You’re the daughter of a wealthy, powerful man who wouldn’t hesitate to drown me in that pond if he thought I took advantage. So, yes, I want to ensure there is no misunderstanding regarding what you want.”
Silence eased in around them, thick and heavy, holding even the music and din from the ball at bay. A splash interrupted the quiet. A fish, perhaps. Or one of the swans. It wasn’t important. All that mattered was that they were alone, in near darkness.
“I want you to kiss me,” she said boldly.
She might as well have latched her mouth onto his. Desire ripped through him at her brazenness. And then, perhaps, because he didn’t immediately take her into his arms, she wilted at the edges, the doubt began to creep into her expression, and he cursed every man who had ever made her feel less than she was, every man who had looked at her and seen only a stack of coins.
Reaching past her, he cupped his hand on her shoulder and turned her slightly until she was facing him squarely. “Good, because I’ve been dying to kiss you ever since you sent your brother and his friends on their way in the ballroom.”
Then he settled his mouth over hers and took.
MINERVA could hardly countenance that in the darkness of her brother’s garden she was being kissed with such fervor and passion, as though she was one for whom ships set sail, wars were fought, and kingdoms razed. She’d only ever brought one other man here, a gentleman she’d been quite fond of. She wouldn’t go so far as to say she loved him, but she thought in time her affection for him would grow and deepen. While staring at the swans, he’d proposed that they marry.
No bended knee, no gazing into her eyes, no taking of her hand.
His tone had been similar to the one she used when selecting a blend of tea in a teashop. When she suggested they not rush into anything, he’d merely shrugged and walked off. A week later, she read of his engagement to another.
She knew that later she would analyze this moment and every moment that came before it. Six Seasons had taught her that a man’s attentions came with a price, and when she was unwilling to pay it, they faded away as though they’d never been. But for now she shoved aside all the doubts that clamored for attention and locked them away. For now, she allowed herself to believe she was desired. That this man longed to be with her as much as she yearned to be with him.
She nearly cried out in disappointment when his mouth left hers, before sighing with wonder as he cradled her face and rained kisses over every inch of it as though he adored what she had never learned to appreciate. Returning his mouth to hers, he gave no quarter as he deepened the kiss, and she fell irrevocably into the fiery passion burning within her. He stoked the flames with so little effort.
Drawing back, he skimmed his thumbs over her cheekbones. His grin flashed white in the darkness. “Well, hello, Lady V.”
MINERVA’S heart slammed against her ribs, her breath backed up in her lungs. She considered denying it, but how could she do it with any level of believability? What was she to say? I haven’t a clue regarding what you’re referring to. On the other hand, she was somewhat relieved to have it out in the open. “When did you know?”
With a finger, he slowly outlined where the mask had been, along her hairline, around her lower cheek, across her upper lip. “I suspected when we were talking at Lady Greyling’s party. Your size and shape seemed right, but it was more the passion with which you spoke. Your voice gave me pause, and your clothing. Women’s clothing can be so ghastly deceptive. But then I danced with you at the Dragons, and my certainty increased. Plus, there was the verbena.”
He’d known that long and had continued to pursue her, to meet with her at the Nightingale? “It’s not an unusual fragrance.”
“However, perfume provides a subtle difference in bouquet based on the skin to which it is applied. But the kiss just now sealed it. Your taste, your boldness, the manner in which you kissed me back. I could no longer deny the truth of who you are.”
“This changes nothing between us.”
“It changes everything. Knowing what can be between us, you can’t expect me to blithely walk away, especially when there can be so much more between us. And I know you like me immensely; otherwise, you’d have not asked me to kiss you. Nor would you have allowed me the liberties I took last night.”
“Shh. You don’t know who’s lurking in the shadows.” She’d pressed two fingers to his lips to gain his immediate silence. Now he took her hand, turned it over, and placed a kiss in the heart of her palm, before curling her fingers over it as though for safekeeping.
“You weren’t too concerned with who might be lurking about when we were kissing,” he said.
“A kiss is one thing. The other is something else entirely.”
“They’ll both get you to the altar just as quickly if a father finds out about either one.”
“No. My father’s finding out about the other will get you a casket.”
He seemed unconcerned, and he’d yet to release his hold on her hand. “Not if I have honorable intentions where you’re concerned,” he said.
She stared at him. “Are you talking . . . marriage?”
“It is within the realm of possibility.”
“Even knowing who I am?”
“Especially knowing who you are. You intrigue me. A rose by any other name and all that nonsense. You’re a woman who knows what she wants and goes after it. You’re not some mewling miss whining in the corner, waiting for someone else to make her happy.”
“Most gentlemen are put off because I don’t mewl about or faint or pretend helplessness.”
“I’m not most men.”
He could not have spoken truer words. Part of her concern was that she feared she could very easily find herself falling in love with him, and she didn’t think he was the sort to love. While she’d been fond of a couple of her suitors, she hadn’t been madly in love with anyone. Did one have to love in order to be loved?
Stepping back, she leaned her hips against the railing of the bridge, finding it easier to think when he released her hand and his wonderful masculine scent wasn’t wafting around her. “Why do you want to marry me?”
He stepped forward, and she was immediately aware of his nearness, his legs brushing her skirt, his chest nearly touching hers. It would involve little more than her inhaling deeply to close that space between them. “There is fire between us. We’re good together.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What is your financial situation?”
“Not every man is after your dowry,” he said curtly.
“Then why are you in pursuit?”
“Was it not your cries echoing around me last night?”
“And when the fire of passion burns out?”
“It won’t.”
“You can’t guarantee that.” Moving away from him, she faced the darkest part of the gardens. Was the physical reason enough to marry? Could a relationship without love satisfy for a lifetime?
Coming up behind her, he placed his mouth on the nape of her neck. Such a simple touch that caused everything within her to melt.
“I want you more tonight than I wanted you last night,” he said, his low voice sending a warm shiver over her skin.
“Why didn’t you tell me last night that you knew who I was?”
“You seemed to need the anonymity. Perhaps it was part of your fantasy. I wanted to give you what you desired. But I want to court Minerva Dodger. I don’t think she’d understand if I was having an affair with Lady V while courting her.”
Why couldn’t she trust his motives? Why couldn’t she believe he truly wanted her? “Do you love me?”
“Do you love me?”
She spun around and found his mouth on hers before she could utter a word. The fire ignited almost instantaneously. She melted against him, winding her arms around his neck. Was this enough to keep them both happy for the remainder of their days?
He trailed his mouth along her throat. “Allow me to call on you tomorrow. Give me an opportunity to show you that you can be as happy with me in the light as you are in the shadows.”
At such a simple request, she could do little more than nod. He eased away from her. “You were correct,” he said quietly, seductively, skimming his finger along her lips. “I very much appreciate your brother’s fishpond.”
Her laughter bubbled out, making her feel younger than she’d felt in a good long while. “I’m not certain I’ve ever enjoyed it quite so much.”
“That’s good to know. I have a competitive streak. I don’t want you giving yourself to anyone else.”
She couldn’t think of a single gentleman who could compete with him, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. He didn’t need any more confidence.
“We should return to the ballroom,” he said, “before our absence is noticed, and tongues start to wag.” He extended his arm.
She had a hundred questions, a thousand, but she didn’t want the warm glow to dissipate.
When they reached the terrace, he stepped away from her. “We’ve been gone a rather long while. To protect your reputation, you should go in without me.”
“Would you be here with me now if I wasn’t the woman—” She glanced around, not certain how to ask her question without giving away too much in case someone were listening. “—you thought I was.”
“But you are, so it’s moot.”
“You know what I’m asking. I don’t think it’s what you’re answering.”
He studied her for a moment. “I don’t know. I do know that the woman I met that first night at the Nightingale intrigued me, and I was desperate to find out who she was. Talking with you at Lady Greyling’s I found equally intriguing. That the ladies are one and the same is my good fortune.”
“At least you’re honest.”
She thought that in the space of a single heartbeat, he flinched, looked guilty. Why did she have to look for things that probably weren’t even there? Footsteps sounded as other couples neared.
“Thank you for the pleasure of your company, Miss Dodger. I look forward to tomorrow.”
“Your Grace.” She went up the steps and crossed into the ballroom. No one approached her, no one stopped her as she headed across the room and ascended the stairs. She carried on until she reached a doorway that led onto the balcony that overlooked the grand salon. Ashebury had entered sometime while she made her way here. He was now dancing with Lady Honoria. It hadn’t taken long for him to give his attention elsewhere. She fought not to feel jealous. It was a ball, people danced.
She stayed where she was, watching as he danced with Lady Julia, then Lady Regina. She couldn’t help wondering if he might have photographed them.
Suddenly aware of a powerful presence coming through the doorway, she stiffened. Her brother rested his forearms on the railing.
“He’s a womanizer,” he said without preamble.
“And you weren’t?” she asked, not bothering to hide her sarcasm or irritation with him for pointing out a fact of which she was already incredibly aware.
“I had my reasons.”
“Perhaps he does as well.” She turned to look at him. “Is it inconceivable that a man could desire me?”
“No, of course not. To be quite honest, I’m unclear as to why you’re not yet married. And I’m not saying he doesn’t desire you. I just don’t believe he’s the marrying sort.”
“I’m not searching for the marrying sort.”
He straightened so quickly, she heard his spine pop. With eyes narrowed, he was quite formidable. “What are you implying?”
“That I’ve had it with fortune hunters. That I’m done with being on the marriage block. I’m not here to find a husband. I’m here because Grace is my dear friend, you are my brother, and you always host a smashing party.”
“Then why accept his attentions?”
“Why not? No longer having any plans to marry is quite a relief really, freeing actually. I don’t have to care if a man finds me pleasing. I can speak my mind and know it won’t make a bit of difference, that his opinion of me is inconsequential to bringing me joy.”
“Have you told your father this?”
“He approves.”
His jaw tightened because obviously he didn’t. “And our mother?”
“She only wants my happiness.” Or so her father had said, and she believed him. “It’s silly really for a woman’s goal in life to be obtaining a husband.”
“What is your goal then?”
“Whatever I want it to be.” No reason to upset him further by spelling it out. Pleasure.
A footstep sounded. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Edward standing just in the doorway. He scowled. “Stop shooting daggers at me, Lovingdon. I’ve only come to collect a dance with your sister.”
Lovingdon gave a nod, looked at her. “Remember what I taught you.” Then he walked off.
She sighed before turning her attention to Edward. He was remarkably handsome tonight in his swallow-tailed jacket. He smiled at her.
“I’m hoping your next dance is open,” he said.
“It just so happens that it is. Shall we be off?” She took a step for the doorway, and he placed his hand on her arm, staying her actions.
“Let’s dance up here. It’s less crowded.”
“It’ll draw attention.”
“I like attention.”
“Are you trying to make someone jealous?”
He lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. “Wouldn’t you like to?”
Swallowing hard, she squeezed her hands together. “I’m certain I don’t know what you’re trying to imply.”
“I saw Ashe take you into the garden. I also know that the ladies aren’t going to let him be, and he’s too polite to turn them all away. Can’t be fun watching him dance.”
“They don’t usually let you be.”
“ ’Tis true. I have only the next dance.” He held out his gloved hand. “So shall we?”
“I suppose there’s no harm in it. Perhaps we’ll start a new tradition.”
The music for a waltz started up. She expected him to take advantage, to hold her more closely than necessary, but he kept the appropriate distance between them.
“He likes you,” Edward said.
“Pardon?”
“Ashe. He likes you.”
“Because he took me on a walk in the garden?”
“Because he looks at you as though you matter. I’ve seen him with a lot of women. We both tend to use them as distractions.” He shook his head. “Won’t go into that. He doesn’t see you that way. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since we got here. Even now, he’s watching.”
She fought not to look out over the balcony to verify that he was.
“It might not look like he is, but he is aware of everything. It’s the reason he’s so dashed good at taking photographs.”
“Have you posed for him?”
“On numerous occasions.” He glanced around before leaning in, and whispering, “Once I posed nude.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I think you’re embellishing.”
“Well, I was nude beneath my clothes.”
She laughed. “You’re awful.”
He smiled broadly. “Well, I am that. And our dance has come to an end.”
Only then was she aware of the strains floating away.
He took her hand, kissed the back of her knuckles. “Thank you for the waltz, Miss Dodger.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He released his hold, took a step away, turned back, his eyes somber. “He’s a good man. Don’t hold it against him because he’s my friend.”
Then he disappeared through the doorway before she could respond.
“I TOLD you that if you got within three feet of her, I’d lay you flat,” Ashe growled.
Edward pressed his booted foot to the bench seat opposite him as Ashe’s coach rumbled through the streets. He was surprised his friend had waited so long to confront him. On the other hand, the close confines would make it easier for Ashe to pummel him. Ashe had two inches on him, dammit. “No, you warned me away from the white swan. So I assume Miss Dodger is the white swan. I thought as much. She’s the right size.”
“Edward—”
“Relax. I’m not going to say anything. But I take it she’s the one you’re planning to marry.”
“If I can convince her that I’m not marrying her for her dowry.”
“But you are.”
Even in the darkness, he felt Ashe’s gaze bore into him. “Oh, I see. Wouldn’t it be better to be honest with her?”
“Every man who has ever approached her has wanted her dowry. She wants love.”
“Can you give her that?”
Ashe sighed heavily. “I don’t know. Having seen what love did to Marsden . . . How did Albert get past it?”
“Hell if I know. The thought of falling in love scares the bloody hell out of me. So I won’t do it. You know me. I always take the coward’s way.”
“Which is the reason you killed a lion with a damned knife.”
He shrugged. “My rifle jammed.”
“By the by, I’m not comfortable with the way you tell that story. If Locke had been at Lady Greyling’s, he’d not have allowed it.”
“But he wasn’t, now was he? So I could embellish to my heart’s content because you like my stories. Besides, you stabbed him as well.”
“You delivered the killing blow.”
“We can’t know that for sure.”
Ashe chuckled low. “God, you were a madman. I’m surprised your screech didn’t chase him off.”
“I didn’t screech. I bellowed. Like an ancient warrior.”
“Like a madman.”
“Well, when you’re raised by one, what more can you expect?”
Silence settled in around them, broken only by the steady clopping of horses’ hooves.
“Why did you dance with her?” Ashe asked quietly.
“I recalled Lady Hyacinth’s words at the roulette table. I like dancing with spinsters. They’re always so grateful for the attention.”
“You’re an arse, Edward.”
Edward smiled. Yes, he was. But he was a relatively harmless one. As long as nothing threatened those he cared about.