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Authors: Amylynn Bright
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stunning revelation, changed from the very awkward young lady to the sensual, passionate woman who occupied his mind.
“Not so much really,” Christian told him, his voice showing a fashionable amount of ennui. “The ton is the same. Nothing changes in the social whirl. Everyone just waits for the next tasty bit of scuttle.”
Dalton chuckled at Christian’s assessment. “I’ve not known you for as long as Thomas here, but I’ve never known you to be bored unless it suited your purpose.”
“No, you’ve nailed him.” Thomas grinned at Christian. “If Christian is bored, he just buys another horse or another dancing girl until the feeling passes.”
Once again, Dalton pulled the winning chips into his own pile. The cards were re-dealt, and the new antes flew into a pile in the middle of the table.
“You’re a fine one to talk, Thomas.” Christian refilled the glasses all around. “Are you going to try to tell Dalton here that you don’t have your own well-built reputation? You’ve certainly used that pretty face of yours to your own benefit.”
“If he tried, I wouldn’t believe him anyway.” Dalton jeered. “I’ve heard from too many reliable sources about the way you and Harrington broke a thousand hearts.”
Thomas snorted and took a healthy swig from his glass. “Reliable sources. Who would that be? I was always a far sight more discreet than our friend Christian here.”
The chips piled up in front of Dalton again. “Of course, Christian is more than happy to regale an audience with both your gentlemanly exploits.”
“All embellished, I assure you.” Thomas shuffled the cards. He glanced over at Christian, but his friend was studiously arranging his cuffs.
“Not even one adjective is untrue,” Christian assured them both as he anted up his chips.
“And, of course, Frankie has told me about you all growing up together,” Dalton said as he picked up his new cards. “She’s very fond of you, you know.”
Thomas’s stomach knotted at her name. If he’d only known when she was twelve with legs as long as a horse and at least as knobby, that he would end up craving those same toned and beautiful legs wrapped tightly around his naked torso, then he would have behaved a whole lot differently. He wouldn’t have allowed his father to make him believe he was worthless; neither would he have run off to join the Navy in a fit. Maybe he would have taken Francesca’s ill-thought-out trap as an invitation instead.
Once thing was certain, he’d have to stop obsessing about her this night, or his companions were going to wonder about the tent he had growing in his trousers.
“All right, I’ll admit that I had a reputation as a young man, but I’ve grown up. I have new responsibilities now, ones I never had before.” Thomas realized that this was absolutely true. It was one thing to say it to the duchess, but now he understood that he actually meant it. “So what about you then, Dalton? Surely being friends with George and Marvin Lawrence, and our esteemed hedonist here,” he said as he gestured to a grinning and unrepentant Christian, “you must have chased and caught your fair share of pretty little birds.”
“My wild oats have been sown.” Dalton smiled and took yet another hand. “But I’ve been the Marquess a lot longer than the two of you have had your titles. I inherited when I was fifteen. Quite frankly, it’s a near miracle I’ve been able to reach the ripe old age of twenty-six before being jockeyed into a marriage.”
Christian excused himself from the table for a moment and went to have a conversation with two new arrivals. Thomas saw this as the perfect chance to do a little undermining of Dalton’s ego.
“You don’t really want to marry Francesca?” This was too good to be true .
“On the contrary.” Dalton appeared nothing if not relaxed in his chair. “She’s a lovely girl, intelligent, well suited to be my marchioness. I’m quite fond of her,
“Not so much really,” Christian told him, his voice showing a fashionable amount of ennui. “The ton is the same. Nothing changes in the social whirl. Everyone just waits for the next tasty bit of scuttle.”
Dalton chuckled at Christian’s assessment. “I’ve not known you for as long as Thomas here, but I’ve never known you to be bored unless it suited your purpose.”
“No, you’ve nailed him.” Thomas grinned at Christian. “If Christian is bored, he just buys another horse or another dancing girl until the feeling passes.”
Once again, Dalton pulled the winning chips into his own pile. The cards were re-dealt, and the new antes flew into a pile in the middle of the table.
“You’re a fine one to talk, Thomas.” Christian refilled the glasses all around. “Are you going to try to tell Dalton here that you don’t have your own well-built reputation? You’ve certainly used that pretty face of yours to your own benefit.”
“If he tried, I wouldn’t believe him anyway.” Dalton jeered. “I’ve heard from too many reliable sources about the way you and Harrington broke a thousand hearts.”
Thomas snorted and took a healthy swig from his glass. “Reliable sources. Who would that be? I was always a far sight more discreet than our friend Christian here.”
The chips piled up in front of Dalton again. “Of course, Christian is more than happy to regale an audience with both your gentlemanly exploits.”
“All embellished, I assure you.” Thomas shuffled the cards. He glanced over at Christian, but his friend was studiously arranging his cuffs.
“Not even one adjective is untrue,” Christian assured them both as he anted up his chips.
“And, of course, Frankie has told me about you all growing up together,” Dalton said as he picked up his new cards. “She’s very fond of you, you know.”
Thomas’s stomach knotted at her name. If he’d only known when she was twelve with legs as long as a horse and at least as knobby, that he would end up craving those same toned and beautiful legs wrapped tightly around his naked torso, then he would have behaved a whole lot differently. He wouldn’t have allowed his father to make him believe he was worthless; neither would he have run off to join the Navy in a fit. Maybe he would have taken Francesca’s ill-thought-out trap as an invitation instead.
Once thing was certain, he’d have to stop obsessing about her this night, or his companions were going to wonder about the tent he had growing in his trousers.
“All right, I’ll admit that I had a reputation as a young man, but I’ve grown up. I have new responsibilities now, ones I never had before.” Thomas realized that this was absolutely true. It was one thing to say it to the duchess, but now he understood that he actually meant it. “So what about you then, Dalton? Surely being friends with George and Marvin Lawrence, and our esteemed hedonist here,” he said as he gestured to a grinning and unrepentant Christian, “you must have chased and caught your fair share of pretty little birds.”
“My wild oats have been sown.” Dalton smiled and took yet another hand. “But I’ve been the Marquess a lot longer than the two of you have had your titles. I inherited when I was fifteen. Quite frankly, it’s a near miracle I’ve been able to reach the ripe old age of twenty-six before being jockeyed into a marriage.”
Christian excused himself from the table for a moment and went to have a conversation with two new arrivals. Thomas saw this as the perfect chance to do a little undermining of Dalton’s ego.
“You don’t really want to marry Francesca?” This was too good to be true .
“On the contrary.” Dalton appeared nothing if not relaxed in his chair. “She’s a lovely girl, intelligent, well suited to be my marchioness. I’m quite fond of her,
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