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the significance of the use of his eyes before, but now he realized he was missing the subtle nuances of this situation, the emotions and expectations shared by an expression or a bit of body language. He could lower a woman’s defenses with his eyes, ultimately controlling the more vulnerable of the sexes with suggestive glances. By blindfolding him, they had taken away not only his ability to judge his enemies but stripped him of his most effective weapon.
    Why did he engage in this conversation at all? Who were these women to try to delve into his mind, coating his actions with their vile interpretations? It was one thing for society to view him as a dissolute rake—that was something he could ultimately take pride in, after all—but these women suggested he was guilty of a far more sinister crime. He could not abide these allegations.
    He liked who he was, damn it. Most of the time.
    He sat very still. “You asked me to speculate on the reasons behind your malicious attack and my subsequent imprisonment. You want me to admit to my misdeeds and repent. Very well. I commit a great offense against all the women I take to my bed. I pleasure them so thoroughly, they never forget me. I am a contemptible monster. I vow never, ever to bring pleasure to a woman again. I shall live like the most ascetic monk for the remainder of my days.” He twisted his rigid lips into a smile. “There it is. Please release me now.”
    Mistress Jane chortled.
    “I unfortunately forgot to add that your repentance must be genuine,” Lady M said gravely.
    “Of course it is genuine.”
    “It is not. In your heart, you believe you have done no wrong.”
    “I haven’t.”
    “But you have,” Mistress Jane said.
    His fists, painfully bound behind his back, curled. He wanted badly to punch something…someone. If he were free, he’d saddle his horse and ride to Jackson’s to spar with a few brawny fellows.
    But that was not possible, not now. He’d have to control himself.
    “I have never taken a lady by force,” he ground out, disgusted—no, sickened —by having to defend himself like this. “I have never given a woman anything but what she wanted, what she asked for—”
    “Vanity,” Mistress Jane murmured.
    “—and I reward her generously for her favors. What more could a lady ask?”
    He paused. If Lady M said “give her your name” again, he would punch someone. Somehow.
    They did not speak, so he continued. “I never feign to be something other than what I am. I do not falsely offer everlasting love—”
    A soft snort came from Miss Juliette’s direction. Forcing himself to ignore it, he continued, “I do not disguise myself as a scrupulous, monogamous lover. They all know me, know what I offer, know what they want. And they get it.”
    “Arrogance,” Mistress Jane said.
    He turned on her. “They get what they ask for. No more, no less. Did you not get it when I bedded you, Mistress Jane?”
    She stiffened beside him. “It does not signify.”
    “Doesn’t it? Well, the women I bed want exactly what I want, a moment of pleasure, a night of release. They do not want everlasting love or even marriage. Otherwise, why would they give themselves to me? Everyone knows I would never limit myself to a single woman for the remainder of my days.”
    “Why is that, my lord?” Miss Juliette whispered.
    He had no answer for her. He loved women—their physical attributes, the way their minds worked, their overall sweetness and softness. He loved bedding them, most of all. Women kept him sane. But no woman could compare to her . In his own distorted way, he would remain faithful to her. He would never marry.
    He took a shallow breath. He’d thought of her too much today. Far too much. He needed a drink. He needed Sutherland to distract him with a frivolous competition for a bit of skirt.
    It had only been a day, and these women were peeling him apart, removing his layers of defense much more rapidly than he would have