know specifically to whom Trevor had become indebted,” her ladyship said. “I did not want Mr. Golding accosting me two house parties hence and mentioning an overdue debt of honor my step-son had overlooked.”
She sat at an elegant little escritoire inlaid with all sorts of fancy work in patterns of flowers and leaves. The piece was all wrong for her. By rights, her ladyship should be looking over battle maps spread out in a field tent and ordering generals about.
Sycamore did not dare risk propping a hip on the corner of the escritoire, so he instead ambled to the window, while silently lecturing the riot in his breeches into submission.
“If Mr. Golding makes a nuisance of himself, you will apply to me, your ladyship, and I will sort him out.”
“You will confront him in public, make a great drama over a few pounds, perhaps even meet him on the field of honor, and expect my undying gratitude.”
Sycamore rested his hips against the windowsill and considered the woman at the desk. “If I want to call anybody out, it’s your late spouse. Tavistock must have soured you on all men forever.”
Had Sycamore not been visually worshipping the magic of sunlight on her hair, he would have missed the haunted look that passed across her features.
“One mustn’t speak ill of the dead, Mr. Dorning.”
“Why not, if the dead comported themselves like ruddy blighters? One should be honest.”
“One should be kind, discreet, and grateful for one’s blessings.”
He wanted to argue with her for the pure joy of watching her temper rise, but her morning had been trying enough. With the coin Sycamore had provided, she’d paid off all of her step-son’s gambling losses, and the sum had been outrageous. Sycamore had sent to London for the funds midweek, anticipating the direction Lord Tavistock’s tournament play would take.
“Whoever made up that rule about not arguing with a lady does not have my gratitude,” Sycamore said, turning to regard the back gardens and the terrace below. “Arguing with ladies is some of the best fun to be had and making up after the argument more enjoyable still. I see Chastain lurking on the terrace. Is he expecting Mrs. Tremont to come wafting by on her way to the gazebo?”
The marchioness rose and joined him at the window. “Don’t judge her. Chastain would see her brother arrested on a whim. If she didn’t accommodate Chastain’s rutting, he’d extort more blunt from her than even she can afford. She doesn’t mind putting a stiff prick to its best use, though Chastain’s finesse as a lover apparently ranks somewhere below the rutting-schoolboy category.”
The words stiff prick coming from her ladyship were wildly exciting, though her tone of abject disgust was rather lowering.
“You don’t care for stiff pricks?”
“Don’t be vulgar.”
But I like being vulgar. “Not an answer, my lady.”
She sighed mightily. “If you expect me to spread my legs for you because you made me a short-term loan, you are doomed to disappointment. You will have the money within a fortnight.”
“I am disappointed that you would think so ill of me. You are a widow exerting herself to protect a family member, and I am a gentleman happy to aid you.”
She slanted him a considering look. “You can be a gentleman. One also hears you acquit yourself with considerably more skill than a rutting schoolboy and more frequently than any schoolboy ever dreamed of indulging himself.”
Exactly where and from whom had one heard that? Had one perhaps solicited such information?
“I like to share pleasure with willing ladies. The rumors regarding my skill are understated and those regarding the frequency of my liaisons overstated. I am also discreet, your ladyship, and while I can be protective, I am not possessive. If you’d like to inspect my equipment, I’m cheerfully amenable to that exercise behind a locked door. You may look but not touch, until we’ve reached the usual agreements regarding temporary exclusivity and the desirability of avoiding conception.”
She smiled ruefully—smile number three. “I deserved that. The problem is, I do like you.”
Sycamore’s four favorite words had been take me to bed. He flung them aside in favor of I do like you. “So many find my company agreeable,” he murmured, “despite my best efforts to be dashing and knavish.”
“I suspect when you don’t get your way, you can be very knavish. You have my thanks for playing banker. Tavistock had a narrow escape, and how Chastain will pay his half of the markers puzzles me. Mrs. Tremont can pass him