An Unexpected Earl (Lords of the Armory #2) - Anna Harrington Page 0,33
I would know?”
“I hear Australia’s lovely this time of year,” Merritt commented to the room at large.
“Bore!” she snapped at him over her shoulder. Then, with a long sigh, she faced Pearce and admitted, “He visits frequently and prefers small blonds with large breasts. His favorite is Marigold. You met her when you came in. She led you upstairs.”
Yes. A very pretty and vivacious blond who asked all kinds of questions of him and Merritt.
“Overall, his proclivities are tame and nothing unusual. I’ve heard that he likes to brag about how politically powerful he is, how well connected. How the laws do not apply to men like him. I’ve no hard evidence, of course, only hearsay, but he’s talked of questionable activities—bribery, smuggling, bank schemes, fraud. If it’s true, then he’s done more than enough to be blackmailed for.” She waved her hand dismissively at the brothel around them. “But you know how most men are when they’re with women. Always attempting to make themselves seem more masculine and important than they truly—”
“And Scepter?” Pearce pressed.
Her face paled, her hand freezing in midair. Of course she knew about the organization. She couldn’t be in the business of London prostitution these days and not hear of it, so ubiquitous had the group become.
The amusement she’d worn like a mask melted away. She lowered her hand to her side. “I have nothing to do with them.”
“Does Howard?”
“Not if he knows what’s good for him.”
He fixed his gaze on her. “What do you know about them and their plans?”
“Just enough to stay away,” she answered sincerely. “And I have no intention of learning more.”
To punctuate that, she set down the empty glass on the side table with a soft thud.
The mask returned as easily as her smile. “Now that we’ve concluded your business, is there anything I can do to help you find pleasure?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes lit up hopefully.
“Leave Amelia Howard alone.”
She stiffened territorially. “I won’t pass up a good business opportunity, no matter how small.”
“And the bracelet you told her I gave you?”
“Bracelet? I said no such—Oh, that. I never said you gave it to me.” She laughed at the misunderstanding. “But truly, though, I only have it because of you.”
Merritt’s brow inched up.
Pearce bit out, “You and I have never—”
“What a shame that is, too.” Another long sigh, this time accompanied by her hand going to her bosom and toying with the fold of the robe lying between her breasts. “I’d bet that you would be utterly magnificent.”
At that, Merritt’s brow nearly shot off his forehead.
Christ.
“In fact, I have bet on you—which is how I got that bracelet. I bet on you to win a fight about six months ago.” She ran her fingers up his arm. “I came across the bout quite by accident, but there you were, stripping down and stepping into the square. Of course, I had to linger and watch.”
“Of course,” Merritt echoed earnestly.
Pearce tightened his jaw in aggravation.
“No one else knew who you were, but I did.” She squeezed his bicep, and the hard muscle tensed beneath her fingertips. “How could I not wager every ha’penny I was carrying that you’d win?”
“I might have lost.”
“Not you,” she purred knowingly. “You never lose at anything—or anyone. Do you, Brandon?”
His breath hitched. She didn’t know about Amelia. Couldn’t possibly have known what had happened between them all those years ago and was so carefully covered up by Gordon Howard. Yet the irony of her comment bit into him.
He stepped back, putting his arm out of her reach.
She let her hand fall away with a soft laugh of victory that she’d pricked him.
“Unless there’s something else I can help you gentlemen with—” Her gaze traveled back to Merritt and teasingly lingered at his crotch as she reached down to slowly unfasten her robe and let it fall open again. Like a shop merchant displaying her goods in a window to entice customers to buy. “Anything at all.” She decadently licked her lips, then turned away with a disheartened sigh at the futility of what she was offering. “Then I must return to my business. You may see yourselves out.”
“Madame Noir.” Pearce’s call stopped her as she opened the door. “Thank you.”
“This conversation never happened, do you understand?” Her hard gaze moved between the two men. “If anyone asks, you paid me to service both of you, which I did eagerly and with so much relish that you felt generous enough to leave an extra sovereign.”