Who Wants to Marry a Duke - Sabrina Jeffries Page 0,58
“You never did before.”
He’d taken the words right out of Olivia’s mouth.
Thorn eyed his friend askance. “Feel free to leave whenever you please, Juncker.”
“Thorn!” Gwyn said. “You’re being very rude.”
“It’s all right, Lady Gwyn.” Mr. Juncker stood. “I’m used to your brother’s unfeeling treatment.”
He struck a dramatic woe-is-me pose, making both Gwyn and Olivia laugh, although Thorn only raised an eyebrow.
“But honestly,” Mr. Juncker continued, “I fear I’ve overstayed my welcome. Besides, there are women to be wooed, cards to be dealt, and brandy to be drunk. The night is young, and I intend to suck the very marrow from its bones.” He stared at Thorn. “Feel free to join me.”
“No, thank you,” Thorn drawled. “I have several matters to attend to before we leave for Berkshire tomorrow, and marrow-sucking isn’t one of them. But I assume I’ll see you next time I’m in London?”
“Certainly.” Mr. Juncker gave an elaborate bow to Olivia and Gwyn. “‘Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow / That I shall say good night till it be morrow.’”
“I hope not,” Thorn said. “We’re leaving on the morrow. So I’ll show you out.”
“Good Lord, I will show him out,” Gwyn said. “It’s my home, after all.”
“Forgive me, sis,” Thorn said. “I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds.”
“Of course you did. It’s what you do.” Gwyn rose and headed for the door with Mr. Juncker. But as she reached it, she turned and made a face at her brother before she and Mr. Juncker walked out.
Olivia laughed.
Thorn merely rolled his eyes. “You’d think she was five.”
“I’d think you were five.” Olivia sniffed. “You were so rude to Mr. Juncker, baiting him all night.”
Leaning forward, Thorn fixed her with a dark look. “You seem terribly concerned about Juncker’s feelings. Were you hoping he might stay longer? Shall I call him back so you can flirt with him some more?”
“What? I wasn’t flirting, for pity’s sake. Clearly your jealousy is overriding your common sense.”
“I am not jealous of that . . . that buffoon!” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re the one who claimed I couldn’t be because I’m a duke.”
“I was talking about you being jealous of his playwriting. But tonight you’re showing yourself to be jealous of his interest in me, too, although why that should be the case, I have no idea. You’ve always made it clear I’m good for only one thing . . . and it isn’t marriage.”
Thorn raked his fingers through his hair, mussing it thoroughly. “I never said that. I never even implied it.”
“Right.” She rose and tossed down her napkin. “I’m going to bed. Would you please let your sister know I’ve retired?”
She rounded the table, but she wasn’t quick enough to avoid Thorn, who met her at the end to catch her by the arm.
He scoured her attire with blatant impudence. “Did you wear that gown to tempt Juncker? Or to torment me?”
“I wore this gown because I like it,” she said sweetly. “The fact that it makes you jealous is merely icing on the cake.” Then she added, just to see how he would react, “And apparently Mr. Juncker likes it as well. He certainly stared at it enough.”
Thorn’s thunderous expression gave her pause. “He wasn’t staring at the gown; he was staring at you in it.” Checking to be sure he was blocking the footman’s view, Thorn took one finger and dragged it down from her neck to between the swells of her bosom, then dropped his voice. “He was wondering how these taste, and what the nipples would feel like in his mouth. He was wondering if he dared get you alone to find out.”
Despite the delicious shivers his words and caress were provoking in her, she managed to sound marginally calm. “So now you can read Mr. Juncker’s mind, can you?”
“Oh, yes.” He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Because I can promise he was thinking the same things I was throughout dinner. That he wanted to engage in very wicked acts with you. Repeatedly. Often.”
Struggling not to let his words turn her to jelly, she moved his finger away from her bodice. “You seem to have gleaned a great many naughty ideas from one look. But not everyone has your predilection for . . . sordid behavior.”
“I can assure you that Juncker does.”
“By the way you speak of him, I’d never have guessed you two were as good friends as Grey said you were, Your Grace.”