Notorious Pleasures (Maiden Lane #2)(2)

The devilish man didn’t turn a hair.

“Now, as it happens,” he drawled obnoxiously, “my ladies don’t have that problem. Stay and watch—it’ll prove instructive, I guarantee. And if I have any strength left over after, maybe I’ll demonstrate—”

“Lord Pimbroke is in the hallway!” she blurted before he could finish his dastardly thought.

The mound of puce-and-brown-striped skirts quaked. “Eustace is here?”

“Quite. And heading this way,” Hero informed Lady Pimbroke with only a touch of satisfaction.

The gentleman exploded into action. He was up and off the lady and throwing down her skirts to hide her pale, soft thighs before Hero could even blink. He caught up his coat, made one swift, appraising glance about the room, and turned to Hero, his voice still unhurried. “Lady Pimbroke has torn a ribbon or lace or some such thing, and you’ve kindly consented to help her.”

“But—”

He placed his forefinger against her lips—warm, large, and quite shockingly inappropriate. At the same time, a male voice called from the hallway.

“Bella!”

Lady Pimbroke—or Bella—squeaked in fear.

“There’s a good girl,” the rogue whispered to Hero. He turned to Lady Pimbroke, bussed her on the cheek, and murmured, “Steady on, darling,” before disappearing under the settee.

Hero had only a moment to watch Lady Pimbroke’s pretty, insipid face go ashen as she realized fully the peril she was in, and then the door to the sitting room crashed open.

“Bella!” Lord Pimbroke was big, reddened, and quite obviously intoxicated. He glanced belligerently around the room, his hand on his sword, but froze in consternation when he saw Hero. “My lady, what—?”

“Lord Pimbroke.” Hero casually stepped in front of the settee, obscuring a large masculine heel with her wide skirts.

She employed her left eyebrow.

Lord Pimbroke actually backed up a step—quite gratifying after the reception her eyebrow had received from the rogue—and stammered. “I… I…”

Hero turned to Lady Pimbroke, touching lightly the horrid yellow braiding on the elbow of her gown. “That’s fixed, I think, don’t you?”

Lady Pimbroke started. “Oh! Oh, yes, thank you, my lady.”

“Not at all,” Hero murmured.

“If you’re done here, m’dear,” Lord Pimbroke said, “then perhaps you’re ready to return to the ball?”

His words may have been a question, but his tone of voice most certainly was not.

Lady Pimbroke took his arm rather sulkily. “Yes, Eustace.”

And with a perfunctory good-bye, the two left the room.

Almost immediately, Hero felt a tug upon her skirts. “Hist! I can hardly breathe under here.”

“They may return,” she said serenely.

“I think I can see up your skirt.”

She moved back hastily.

The rogue rolled out from under the settee and stood, towering over her.

Nonetheless, she glared down her nose at him. “You weren’t—”

“Now, now. If I was, do you really think I’d tell you?”

She sniffed, sounding rather like Cousin Bathilda at her most priggish. “No doubt you’d boast of it.”

He leaned over her, grinning. “Does the thought have you all hot and bothered?”

“Is your wig growing tight?” she asked politely.

“What?”

“Because I would think your swelled head would make it quite uncomfortable.”

His smile became a trifle grim. “My head isn’t the only thing out of proportion, I assure you. Maybe that’s why you came in here? To sneak a peek?”

She rolled her eyes. “You have no trace of shame, do you? Most men at least pretend to be abashed when caught in wrongdoing, but you—you strut about like a feckless cockerel.”

He paused in the act of donning his coat, one arm thrust out, the sleeve half on, and widened his beautiful green eyes at her. “Oh, of course. Moralizing. Naturally you must hold yourself superior to me when—”

“I saw you engaging in adultery!”

“You saw me engaging in a pleasant fuck,” he said with slow emphasis.

She flinched at the crudity but stood her ground. She was the daughter of a duke, and she would not flee from a man such as he. “Lady Pimbroke is married.”

“Lady Pimbroke has had numerous lovers before me and will have numerous lovers after me.”

“That does not forgive your sin.”

He looked at her and laughed—actually laughed—slow and deep. “And you are a woman without sin, is that it?”

She didn’t even have to consider the matter. “Naturally.”