ensure she achieved satisfaction several times over. He’d satisfy her until she couldn’t walk a straight line.
“What’s got you in such a good mood?” his sister asked, breaking him out of his wandering thoughts. She watched him from her side of his uncle’s carriage, lips quivering with amusement.
“I’m simply glad to spend time with you and Uncle Paul. The weather is perfect for a day of shopping, don’t you think?”
Charity met Paul’s gaze, and the man erupted into laughter from Nick’s side.
“Should we be flattered that he cares to try to fool us, Charity? Or should we be insulted that he thinks we can’t tell what’s really put a smile on his face?”
Nick frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Charity snorted. “Come now, Nicky. You can’t possibly think we haven’t noticed your sudden interest in a certain lady? Miss Barrington is lovely and a wonderful match for you. I couldn’t be more pleased.”
“Never thought I’d live to see you settle down,” Paul teased.
Nick took pause before answering, though it sat on the tip of his tongue to deny any intention of settling down. A man who had spent years avoiding attachment suddenly turning his attentions on a respectable woman sent a certain message.
“I cannot deny that the lady is beautiful, charming, and would make any man a fine wife. Though, I do believe I have competition in the form of Martin Lewes. He’s danced quite a bit of attention on her of late.”
Irritation plagued him as he remembered sending a message to Calliope that morning asking if she wanted to arrange a night at the theater—the perfect chance for them to be seen, and for him to take advantage of her proximity. He’d been disappointed to receive word that she had plans already—with her sister, Hastings, and Martin.
Fucking Martin, with his golden hair and weak chin and courtly manners.
“Oh, poppycock!” Charity exclaimed. “That pretentious popinjay doesn’t hold a candle to my handsome, charming brother.
“Wonderful alliteration, my dear,” Paul quipped.
“Thank you.”
“You’re speaking as if I’ve actually announced my intention to marry,” Nick cut in. “Nothing is certain, and our association is still very new.”
“But you have developed a tendre for Miss Barrington,” Charity declared with a sniff. “I can tell.”
“After their waltz at the Covington’s ball, everyone can tell,” Paul added.
Nick gave his uncle a quizzical look. “You weren’t even there, old man!”
His uncle shrugged. “Everyone’s talking about it. That London Gossip woman even wrote about it in her column.”
Nick hadn’t been aware of that, but then, he didn’t subscribe to that insipid scandal sheet. Benedict kept abreast of the latest news from London’s notoriously anonymous gossip writer, but only because she had once alluded to the knowledge of the existence of male courtesans in London. After a few months had passed without the woman revealing anything else of substance, Nick had mostly pushed the column and its author out of his mind.
The carriage came to a halt at their first stop of the day—a pawn broker with whom Nick had a bit of unsavory business to conduct. Patting his breast pocket, he found he hadn’t forgotten the funds needed to pay the principal and interest on a loan he’d taken on a ruby tiepin, and a gold and diamond pocket watch.
He’d turned to pawnbrokers often in the years before the Gentleman Courtesans had saved him from facing debtor’s prison. Benedict had been incensed to learn that he’d had to make use of the undesirable establishment again a few months ago, when a few unfortunate turns of dice and cards had emptied his accounts. Now that he was flush again, he could pay to get his things back. With Benedict controlling his purse strings a bit, and a strong-willed effort to stay far away from the hells, he might never return.
“I’ll be back shortly,” he informed his companions as the footman opened the door for him.
They waved him off as he stepped onto the street. Pushing open the door to the broker’s establishment, he squinted at the change from the afternoon light outdoors to the dim interior. He moved slowly while his eyes adjusted, approaching a rough wooden counter where Mr. Gould, the broker, was busy seeing to a blond man who waited for him to finish inspecting an array of costly-looking baubles. From where he stood, Nick identified a collection of jeweled tiepins, a sapphire ring, and a an ornate snuffbox.
Nick lingered near the middle of the shop to wait his turn, eyes narrowed as he realized the man had a