The Formidable Earl (Diamonds in the Rough #6) - Sophie Barnes Page 0,1
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“I don’t think he believes in love,” Yates said.
Simon gave his friend a deadpan look. “Of course I do. There have been so many blissful unions of late, I’m inclined to believe we live in a world full of rainbows where cupids lurk behind every bush. Even Carlton Guthrie, the Scoundrel of St. Giles – a man I would have sworn had no heart – is smitten with his young wife.”
“Sounds like an epidemic.”
Simon snorted in response to Hawthorne’s comment and took another sip of his drink.
“By the by,” Yates murmured in a more discreet tone than earlier, “I’ve promised Celeste I’d try and find her a new protector, in case this thing with Miss Harlowe doesn’t blow over and I end up marrying her.”
“I don’t understand why you’d want to give up your mistress if you’re not in love,” Hawthorne said.
“Out of respect for my wife,” Yates said. He emitted a heavy sigh and looked at Simon. “I don’t suppose you would be interested?”
“I’m afraid not. In my experience mistresses are demanding and hard to get rid of.” His last one had even made a spectacle, chasing after him on Oxford Street when he’d tried to end things with her. It had been most embarrassing.
“Celeste isn’t like that. She’s quite agreeable and sweet.”
“Nevertheless,” Simon said.
“No wife or mistress,” Hawthorne said with a pitying look that put Simon on edge. “You must be in need of a good tup.”
“It’s not so bad,” Simon said.
Hawthorne raised an eyebrow. “Really? How long has it been since you last had a woman?”
Simon shrugged. He hated this – hated being made to feel lacking in some way. Attempting to show indifference, he busied himself with refilling his glass. “Three months or so.”
“Damnation,” Yates murmured.
“Hell, it’s no wonder you look so tense.” Hawthorne reached inside his jacket pocket, retrieved a card, and handed it to Simon. “If I may, I suggest you stop by Amourette’s on your way home tonight.”
“It’s a brothel, is it not?” Simon asked. When Hawthorne nodded, Simon instinctively winced. “I don’t think so.”
“I think it would be good for you,” Hawthorne said.
Simon glanced at the card, then swung his gaze back to Hawthorne. “This is in St. Giles.”
“Well, yes. But it’s clean,” Hawthorne promised, “and so are the women. In fact, they receive regular health checks at the local clinic.”
“That may well be,” Simon said, “but it’s still located in the worst possible part of Town. You can’t honestly think I’d go there.”
“Why not?” Hawthorne asked. “I do.”
“Yes, but Fielding isn’t like you,” Yates said. “He’s much more…”
“More what?” Simon asked when Yates failed to finish his sentence.
Yates averted his gaze. “Never mind.”
“No,” Simon said, unwilling to let the comment go. “I’m more what?”
“Reserved,” Yates said. “And stuffy.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“What he means to say,” Hawthorne murmured, bringing Simon’s attention back to him, “is that you don’t want to take any risks.”
“I fail to see how that’s a bad thing,” Simon said with a frown.
Silence followed before Yates quietly asked, “Has it never occurred to you that Gabriella chose Huntley because he was more exciting?”
Simon stared at his friends. “No. Not once.”
“You’re an unmarried man,” Hawthorne said, looking Simon straight in the eye. “A trip to Amourette’s won’t tarnish your reputation. If anything, it will make you more normal and less…”
“Less what?” Simon prompted when Hawthorne’s words trailed off.
The baron shrugged. “Boring, I suppose.”
Simon stared at him. “You think I’m boring?”
“You don’t really have any interesting stories to tell,” Yates said.
“Because you never do anything worth mentioning,” Hawthorne added.
Simon looked at them each in turn. “If I’m so boring, then why the hell do you keep my company?”
“You’re my moral compass,” Hawthorne said.
“Considering some of my other friends,” Yates said, “being seen with you on occasion is good for my reputation.”
“We enjoy playing cards with you too,” Hawthorne added. “You’re not easy to beat.”
“Right,” Simon said when neither man added anything further. He stood. “I think it’s time for a change of scene.”
“Don’t be like that,” Yates said. “We’re just being honest.”
“Yes. Thank you for that.” Simon glared at them both. “I’m leaving.”
“It’s only a little after nine,” Hawthorne protested. “Please don’t tell me you’re already going home.”
“Of course not,” Simon said. It had been his intention to do precisely that. A warm bath and a glass of brandy before bed would be heavenly, but with his friends pressing him for an answer, he quickly changed his mind. “I’m doing something different.”