She laughed. “But you are here now.”
Her suggestive tone brought the start of a throb to his temples. “Not for you.” The only reason he’d entered this house of depravity, which he usually had no qualms about, was because he had been invited here of all places.
He hadn’t objected, since he thought he might also be able to relieve some pressure that a certain temptress evoked with her sweet scent, the memory of her... in a dress that clung to her body like a goddess... her body pressed against him...
But the moment he’d walked through those doors, whatever remained of that mood—which wasn’t much to begin with—had disappeared.
“If not me, then who?” Lady Pilkington did not give up.
He didn’t think it was possible, but his mood sank into even darker depths. He’d forgotten about this trait of hers. “A friend.” More precisely, his cousin, Drake.
It seemed ridiculous now that he’d thought coming here might relieve his tension. Aye, he had an itch, but neither the marchioness nor any other woman here sauntering about this estate would even begin to scratch it. None of them could takeherplace, which was quite a troubling predicament for a man like him. It left him with nothing but provoking memories and a hard cock.
I need a drink.
If only he enjoyed drinking beyond the occasional ale or glass of port. He loathed the lack of control inebriation brought. A man who lost control over his body and senses made for a rather pitiful image. Just look at his father in his last years.
“I see—”
“Dare,” Drake’s low voice drawled, cutting off whatever Lady Pilkington was about to say. “Aren’t you a sight for the eyes?”
Dare glanced over to Drake striding toward him with a lazy gait. His gaze drifted over the scar that started at the edge of his hairline, drawing over his eyebrow, jumping the eye socket, and continuing its path to stop at his jawline. The scar that usually looked frightening in stark daylight seemed more subdued in the low lighting of this drawing room.
“You’re late,” Dare said.
The scarred brow rose. “I thought I’d have to wait for you to finish a romp.”
“As you can see,” he sent a pointed look at Lady Pilkington, “I’m not romping today.”
She pivoted on her heel and sauntered away on a huff.
“What was that about?” Drake asked, staring after the woman.
“Small annoyances.”
Drake lowered to seat himself comfortably in a chair. “Is she why you’re in a brood? The lady not up to standard?”
“Probably.” Not quite, be he didn’t want to explain. He could not make heads or tails of his standards anymore. “How are things in Brighton?” They never talked about Brighton in front of others. Not even Knox.
“Same as always. Just about the same as my progress with the deed.”
Ah yes. “I saw the duchess at Brimfield Park today.”
“Did you, now?”
Dare crossed his arms over his chest. “Saw her before that, too.”
“The lovely widow called on you then?”
So he knew. “Is that why I received a rare invite from my dear, old cousin?”
“I’m curious what the widow had to say,” Drake admitted, wasting no words.
“Well then, she didn’t say all that much. Something about staying out of her family matters.”
“Admitting she knows I’m family? Interesting.”
Dare shrugged. “She might know, but what she doesn’t know is whether you have my support.”
