Notorious Pleasures (Maiden Lane #2)(101)

Thomas nodded, sipping his wine.

Griffin slammed his palm down on the table. All the dishes jumped, and a fork fell off the edge. “Then why the hell didn’t you say so earlier?”

Thomas scowled. “She always liked you.”

“Anne?” Griffin asked incredulously.

Thomas nodded.

“So? You were the one she married.”

“But if I hadn’t had the title—”

“But you did have the title,” Griffin near roared. Of all the stupid, soft-brained—

Thomas slammed his own hand down. A glass crashed to the floor. “You don’t understand! You’ve never understood. I might have the title and Father’s affections, but you have Mother’s and everyone else’s!”

Griffin blinked. “You were… jealous? Of me?”

Thomas looked away, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

And it was suddenly too much for Griffin. He shouted with laughter, holding his belly, doubled over the table.

“It’s not that funny,” Thomas said when Griffin paused to take a breath.

“It bloody well is,” Griffin assured him. “You’ve barely talked to me for over three years and all because you were jealous. Jesus, Thomas! You’re richer, older, and scads more handsome than me. What more do you want?”

Thomas shrugged. “She always liked you better.”

Griffin sobered. “Who? Anne or Mater?”

“Both.” Thomas stared moodily into his glass. “When Father died, I thought I’d be the one in charge. I was the marquess, after all. But then we realized Father’s debts, and she called you home from Cambridge.”

“I do have the better head for business.”

Thomas nodded stiffly. “You do. You did. Even though you were only twenty—and two years younger than I—you immediately set to improving our finances.”

“Would you prefer I’d let us all go to debtor’s prison?” Griffin asked drily.

“No.” Thomas raised his face and looked him frankly in the eye. “I’d prefer that I were the one who could save Mother from financial ruin.”

Griffin stared at him for a moment and thought about what it must have cost Thomas to admit that he wasn’t good at something.

He leaned forward and poured his brother some more wine. “Every time you’ve ever made a speech in parliament, Mater has written all about it to me—pages and pages of details, the points you made and the reaction of the Lords.”

Thomas’s mouth dropped open. “Truly?”

Griffin nodded. “Truly. Haven’t you ever noticed her in the ladies’ gallery?”

“No.” Thomas shook his head, looking a little dazed. “I had no idea.”

“Well, now you do.” Griffin set the bottle down and leaned back in the chair. “Besides, what good would two financial geniuses in the family do?”

THE OPENING OF the bedroom door woke Hero that night. She yawned and stretched indolently as Griffin set down the candle he carried and took off his wig.

It was sadly unsophisticated but they’d decided they preferred to share a room—and a bed—at night. So upon their marriage, she’d moved into his bedroom and was in the process of redecorating the sitting room on one side into a dressing room for her.

“You were out late,” she murmured, her voice husky from sleep.

Griffin, who’d splashed water on his face from the basin on his dresser, turned to her with a cloth in his hand. “Thomas wanted to discuss his estates.”

His voice was relaxed—a far cry from the tension in his body when he’d left this evening for his brother’s house. “It went well, then?”

“Well enough. He’s very interested in the new weaving venture.” He threw the cloth to the dresser top and prowled toward her, his gaze roaming over the silk coverlet she held to her chest. “Are you wearing anything under there?”

She lowered her eyes demurely. “No… Well, yes.”

He cocked an eyebrow as he shrugged out of his coat. “What?”

She tilted her head.

His gaze went to her left ear. “Ah. Your diamond earbob.” He tugged at his neckcloth. “Where’s the other one?”

She lifted one bare arm out from underneath the covers and pointed mutely at the table beside the bed.

He dropped his neckcloth and waistcoat onto a chair, then came over to look. Griffin picked up the other earbob. “Is this the one you threw at me?”

“Yes.” She lay back against the fluffy down pillows.

“I see.” He toed off his shoes and crawled over the bed at her, the mattress sinking beneath his weight. “May I?”

She licked her lips, feeling the acceleration of her pulse. “Please.”

He straddled her, kneeling on the coverlet, trapping her beneath, and leaned over her. Gently he took her earlobe in his warm fingers, and she felt him insert the fine gold wire into her ear.

She shivered.

He cocked his head, examining his handiwork. “Beautiful.”

“They are my favorite,” she said.

His eyes moved to hers, amused, aroused, and dangerously possessive. “I wasn’t referring to the earring.”

She arched her brows innocently. “Weren’t you?”