he who is without sin cast the first stone.’ I am not the one with a reputation for dissolute cabals.”
“You can’t be serious.” Grey snorted. “Dissolute cabals, indeed. You know damned well that the gossips will say anything to get a rise out of me.”
“You don’t see that they do the same to me?” Thorn bit out. “I swear, you’re such a bloody arrogant prick sometimes. You think you’re the only man in this family with any decency.”
“That’s not true—I think Sheridan has plenty of decency,” Grey said, deliberately taunting Thorn out of some perverse urge to punish him for daring to toy with Beatrice.
Thorn’s hands tightened into fists before he caught himself. “You almost had me there, Brother. But I will not engage in this tug-of-war with you, especially when it’s merely your attempt to distract me from the real issue—that you desire Miss Wolfe and won’t admit it.” He started to march off, then paused. “And incidentally, I would never ruin a woman, no matter who her relations were.”
Belatedly, Grey realized he’d stepped over some invisible line with Thorn. “Glad to hear it.”
“One more thing.” Thorn regarded him with a steady stare. “I suspect that Miss Wolfe is more worldly wise than you think.”
Grey found it suddenly difficult to breathe. He’d spent enough time with “worldly wise” women to know that they tended to be schemers, at least around a duke. And he hated schemers more than anything.
Though he would never admit that to his brother. Forcing nonchalance into his voice, he said, “You’d best not speculate on Miss Wolfe’s character around our mother, since Mother seems to think the young woman hung the moon.”
Thorn let out an exasperated breath. “I’m not casting aspersions on Miss Wolfe’s character. I’m saying she’s not the starry-eyed fool you assume. For one thing, she’s intelligent enough to tell the difference between a man who’s merely flirting and one who actually has designs on her virtue.”
Like me? God, he did not have designs on her virtue. “I never thought her a fool. She’s an innocent.” As long as Grey kept telling himself that, perhaps he’d keep his mind on his task for Sheridan instead of wanting to touch her, taste her mouth, take her to—
Damn it all. Grey stared his brother down. “A fool and an innocent aren’t the same thing.”
“You barely know her. It’s far too soon for you to be pursuing her.”
“Pursuing her! I’m doing no such thing.”
“Right.” Thorn rolled his eyes. “But while you’re busy not pursuing her, you might consider learning a bit more about her. From someone other than our mother and sister and possibly our brother, I mean.”
Grey blinked at him. “Who else is there?”
“The servants, for one.” Thorn’s tone turned sarcastic. “You might lower your bloody self to talk to them for a change. See what they have to say about her.”
Having often been the subject of rumormongering, Grey found servant gossip to be as unreliable as the society kind. He didn’t like to encourage it. And Thorn knew that.
“Why are you prodding me to talk to the servants about her? What have you heard?”
“Just that some of the maids—” Thorn ran his fingers through his hair. “Never mind. It was probably groundless, anyway. My point is, you seem to desire Miss Wolfe. She’s not my cup of tea, mind you—I prefer blondes myself—but she’s clearly yours. Which means you should take care how you behave around her.”
Grey bristled. “I don’t see you being careful.”
“That’s because Miss Wolfe knows I’m not serious. And you obviously are.”
“I am not pursuing her.”
“You’re such a liar. Though I can’t tell if you’re just lying to me, or if you’re lying to yourself as well.” With a sigh, Thorn headed down the hall for the drawing room. “Now, I’m going to have myself a decent glass of brandy before I tackle the minuet again. I suggest you do the same.”
“Not at this early hour.”
“Suit yourself.”
Grey waited until Thorn disappeared through a door before he returned to the ballroom. But he didn’t enter. He just stood in the doorway watching Gwyn work with Beatrice on the minuet steps and fuming at what Thorn had said. Damned arse, with his sly insinuations concerning Beatrice’s experience with men. From what Grey could tell, she’d had little. But Thorn seemed to regard her as some budding enchantress.
Looking at her now, Grey was reminded of how guileless she seemed when she was with him.
Grey huffed out a breath. No doubt she was guileless. Thorn