excited than she felt at the prospect of time alone with him. However, she realized what she needed was more time in Martin’s company and less in Dominick’s. Maybe, with enough time and effort, she would forget the earth-shattering power of his kiss enough to enjoy the attentions of her future husband.
“I would love to. If you would give me a moment to retrieve my hat.”
“Of course,” he replied, taking her hand to grace it with another kiss.
It seemed that now they’d crossed the tricky territory from courtship into a near-betrothal, he felt he could be freer in his affections. Calliope pray it was enough to wash away the taste and feel of Dominick for good.
Chapter 9
“Rumor has it, a small house party is taking place in Surrey over the next fortnight in the home of the scandalous Viscount B. I regret to inform you that I received no invitation to this event, though I wish I had … purely in the interest of reporting the undoubtedly scandalous goings-on to my dear readers, of course.”
The London Gossip, September 16, 1819
Nick ignored the chatter of the men around him as he turned the heavy flintlock over in his hands, inspecting it with none of the enthusiasm he ought to feel. He and the other courtesans had been planning this outing to Manton’s Gallery for over a week now. An avid sportsman, Nick had always enjoyed shooting more than any other pursuit—with fencing a close second. Paul had taken him on his first hunting excursion when he’d been a lad, just the two of them, a pair of rifles, and the bracing air of the outdoors. Over the years, he had acquired and consequently pawned several firearms, and was currently in the market for a pair of dueling pistols. Not that he ever thought he’d have cause to use them. However, he had been lusting after this very flintlock for months, along with its twin resting in the cedar box before him. The other courtesans had simply come along for the fun of it, and the chance to practice their own marksmanship—all except Hugh, who had yet to return from an extended wedding trip with his bride.
Benedict, David, and Aubrey stood at his back as he ran a reverent hand over the stunning mahogany finish and silver embellishments of the well-made flintlock, the most beautiful weapon he’d ever held in his hand. However, the excitement over finally being able to afford a pair of the finest pistols money could buy was decidedly absent. All he could think of was Calliope, the dratted house party taking place at her father’s small estate in Surrey in a few days’ time, and the inevitable end of their arrangement.
“Well?” David drawled, peering over his shoulder. “Are you going to stand there all day staring at the thing, or are you going to shoot it?”
Nick rolled his head in David’s direction and scoffed. “A gun is a lot like a woman. You can’t just go jabbing your ramrod into the barrel. You must get acquainted with her, and that takes time.”
Benedict snickered. “David doesn’t have that kind of patience, which is why he’s an abominable shot who’s still without a keeper.”
“I’m an excellent shot and an even better lover,” David protested. “It isn’t my fault London is all but deserted this time of year. Dash it, Nick, if you don’t load and shoot the thing, I will.”
“Hands off,” Nick protested, moving the gun away from David’s grasping hand as he half-cocked the hammer. “Let a real man show you how it’s done.”
“I’ve lost track of whether we’re talking about shooting guns or pleasuring women,” Aubrey muttered.
Nick tuned out the insults and jokes lobbed back and forth by his friends and focused his attention on the weapon. He needed to do something to keep his mind off Calliope, though he knew it to be a futile effort. He worked by rote, pouring gunpowder down the barrel, ramming the paper-wrapped ball in after it, and priming the pan—all the while thinking of the woman who was driving him out of his mind. He was hard-pressed to forget the feel of her in his arms, the exquisite arch of her body against his as she rode his thigh. Even as he raised the pistol and aimed for his target, the report of the weapon wasn’t nearly loud enough to drown out the echoes of her ecstatic cries from his mind. The flash just before the ball was expelled from the