She frowned thoughtfully. “Is there a distinction made between being a rake and being a debaucher?”
“There is by men of sense,” he informed her. “Only the latter is liable to end with dueling pistols at dawn.”
“Oh.” She considered that. “The distinction is purely selfserving, then? Morality isn’t factored in at all?”
“We are discussing rakes and debauchers.”
That was true. And how very strange that they should be. And how exhilarating. No other man of her acquaintance would ever think to have such an unconventional conversation with her. A gentleman simply did not discuss rakes and debauchers with young ladies. And young ladies were not to discuss them at all.
She looked about at the other dancers. If anyone was listening—
“You’re safe, Lady Kate,” Mr. Hunter assured her. “No one can hear.”
He was right, of course, they were speaking too softly to be heard over the music. Still…“It really isn’t a discussion we ought to be having.”
“Should we change the subject?”
They should. They really should. And she would, in another minute. After one more quick scan about her, she lowered her voice and asked, “What of men who seduce other men’s wives? Are they rakes?”
“Cuckolders.”
“I see.” She bit her bottom lip a moment and nodded. “But equally likely to find themselves on the field of honor, I imagine.”
“Depends on how the husband feels toward the wife, and his honor.”
“So a rake pursues only certain kinds of women, such as actresses and opera singers?” She thought about that. “Doesn’t that make every man a rake?”
“Not every man. England doesn’t have that many theaters.”
She laughed as he swept her into another turn. “Tell me this, if a man pursuing a married woman is a cuckolder, what is a woman who pursues a married man?”
“Welcomed, generally.”
“Certainly not by the gentleman’s wife.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised.” He nodded toward a middle-aged man standing near the doors to the veranda. “Lord Renort’s wife encourages him to visit his mistress as often as possible.”
“Really?” Kate glanced at Lord Renort and thought about what she knew of his union to Lady Renort. It was a second marriage for both and had been heralded among members of high society as a most sensible match. The gentleman had obtained a fortune, which would certainly be of use to a man with two sons and three daughters, while the lady had acquired a title—the accompanying benefits of which would no doubt be of value to herself and her two children. In truth, the vast majority of marriages within the ton were arranged purely for financial and social gain, but that fact didn’t make Lady Renort’s plight any less regretful in Kate’s eyes.
“It’s very sad,” she remarked with a sigh.
Hunter’s dark brows winged up in mild surprise. “Do you think?”
Kate’s brows lowered in confusion. “Do you not?”
“I might,” he admitted after a moment’s thought, “if Lady Renort had desired, or expected fidelity from her husband. But in this instance, the union was strictly a business transaction, and by all accounts, the terms of that transaction were readily agreed upon in advance by both parties.”
“I…” In advance? She couldn’t decide if that sort of heartless union was more, or less sad. “It’s still very sad.”
He glanced over to where Lady Renort was smiling and giggling with a small group of friends. “She appears a happy woman to me.”
“I suppose she does,” Kate conceded, though in her opinion, it was still very sad. The woman had traded the chance to love for a title. “Would you care for that sort of match?”
“Would I be comfortable in Lady Renort’s slippers, do you mean?”
The picture was enough to make her laugh. “Or Lord Renort’s boots.”
“Absolutely not,” he replied. “I’d not abide infidelity in my marriage.”
“And what of the terribly businesslike quality?”
Hunter shrugged. “I’d no more want an impractical union than I would a faithless one.”
“Why assume a marriage based on…” She trailed off as a more pressing question occurred to her. “How could you possibly know the details of Lord and Lady Renort’s marriage?”
His lips curved up once again. “Any rake worth his salt keeps apprised of which women of his acquaintance might be open to a spot of debauchery. Lonely wives are generally a fair bet.”
“I…” Her eyes widened in shock a split second before they narrowed in suspicion. “You’re making the lot of this up as you go along, aren’t you?”
“Not the whole lot,” he assured her and grinned as she laughed.
In truth, she really didn’t care if it was the whole lot. It was