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night at play.
Harry leaned negligently back in his chair. Across from him were Lord
Richard Peyton and the Honourable Charles Byers. Byers was slumped
back in his chair, his cravat awry. Lord Richard raised a languid hand
in greeting.
"I want to speak to you," Jack told Harry. He resisted the urge to
yank his friend up by the collar and knock him down. Harry attempted
to raise a brow.
"Can this not wait? As you can see, I am a trifle foxed. Not in any
condition for a confrontation as I suspect you want." Harry's speech
always became uncharacteristically elegant when he'd been drinking.
"I want this matter settled now," Jack snarled. Byers came to life.
"Lay odds on Rotham."
Harry rose.
"Since I do not desire a disagreeable scene, I shall be happy to
oblige." He lurched up from his chair and made a lopsided bow.
"Gentlemen."
Jack found an unoccupied niche in one of the saloons.
He waited until Harry had slumped down into a chair before speaking.
"What the hell do you mean by sending Claire a message saying you were
taking Dorothea to the masquerade?"
Harry looked surprised.
"I did not want her to worry. Thea changed her mind at any rate. There
was no harm done." Jack leaned over him.
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"No harm done? Claire took it upon herself to rescue Thea and showed
up at Sylvia's. She was attacked and ended up with a sprained
ankle."
Harry stared at him.
"Good God!"
"Yes."
"I never thought..." Harry seemed to be sobering up rapidly.
"Whatever possessed her to do such a damnably stupid thing?"
"Undoubtedly to save Thea from whatever debauchery she imagined you
planned to lead her into." Jack glared at him.
"I ought to call you out."
"I'd hardly fault you." Harry looked unusually serious.
"Was she harmed?"
"No, thank God. Sylvia watches for that sort of thing. Unfortunately,
they did not determine the identity of her attacker. He'd have a sword
through him by now."
"He'd have two," Harry said grimly. He stood, albeit somewhat
shakily.
"Who stopped him?"
"Hamilton. Sylvia found me." Jack looked at him. The contrition in
Harry's voice was the only thing that stopped him from planting his
fist in Harry's face.
"One more thing."
"What?"
"The bet is off."
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"What?"
"The bet's off. I'm forfeiting. I'll deliver Satan and the money at
your convenience."
Harry looked at him as if he'd lost his mind.
"You can't do that! The devil, Jack! At least wait until after your
race. I thought..." He paused.
"What about Claire?"
"I intend to marry her," Jack told him, then stalked off.
Jane smiled fondly at Claire.
"Really, Claire, I am sorry about your poor foot, but I must admit it
was rather romantic to see Lord Rotham striding into the house with you
in his arms. He looked very dashing without his coat, his hair mussed
and that grim look on his face." She was sitting on the edge of
Claire's bed. She looked lovely and fresh and not at all as if she'd
spent the prior day in bed with a miserable headache.
Claire scowled.
"There was nothing at all romantic about any of it. He acted as if I
was nothing but an inconvenient sack of flour he was forced to haul
about." Except when he'd been kissing her with such passion. She had
barely slept between the pain in her foot and the remembrance of his
embrace. After giving up on sleeping, she had finally decided he had
drunk too much brandy and had scarcely known what he was about.
Except
there had been nothing clumsy about his expert caresses. Even now, she
felt a blush rise to her cheeks. To her chagrin, she realised Jane was
watching her with great interest.
"Oh, Claire. There is nothing to be ashamed about. I think it was
quite daring of you to steal from the house in such a clandestine
fashion to meet him at the masquerade. I promise I will say nothing to
Edward."
Claire's mouth dropped open.
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"Steal from the house to meet himi Is that what he said?"
"Yes. Well, he wanted to assure us you had been quite safe all
along.
I dare say he felt we needed some explanation about your foot. What a
shame you had to trip on the staircase there. "
"I did not..." Claire stopped. She could not tell Jane why she'd
really gone. She had taken one look at Thea's guilty face and known
there had been some plan to go to the masquerade. For some reason,
Thea had changed her mind and gone to the theatre after all. Jane
patted her hand.
"I shall send Briggs in to help you dress. Perhaps you would like to
come down and sit in the front drawing-room." She rose.
"I do hope you enjoyed yourself while you were there."
"You are not shocked?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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