The Countess Conspiracy (Brothers Sinister #3)(72)

His eyes widened in mock innocence. “Excellent. Keep doing that; I’ll just keep telling you wrong things.”

Violet shifted; he smiled and slid his hand around her, pulling her close, playing his fingers against her spine.

“Rakus indifferentus, alas for him, but quite merrily for the rest of us, has a shortened lifespan. If he’s not killed by the women he preys on or the men who care for those women, he’s often taken by the clap. His subspecies is particularly vulnerable to it.”

Violet found herself smiling despite herself.

“Then there’s rakus precauticous.”

“Rakus precauticous?” Violet said dubiously. “That does not sound like valid nomenclature.”

“Don’t interrupt; you’ll have a chance for questions at the end. That is a rake who understands the rules of the game. He limits himself to women who are willing. He may use sheaths or hire doctors to perform examinations of potential partners so as to preserve his, uh, his assets.” Sebastian shrugged. “In general, precauticous either becomes so enamored of the activity that he metamorphosizes into indifferentus—”

“That cannot be a proper species identification, then.”

Sebastian ignored this. “Or he becomes so tired of taking precautions that he limits himself to one or, er, sometimes a few women for lengthy periods of time.”

Violet wrinkled her nose at him. “And so you’re a precauticous on the verge of metamorphosis, is that it?”

Sebastian pushed her to arm’s length. “My lady,” he said in a dignified tone utterly belied by the sparkle in his eye, “I am not. Those two species are to be pitied.”

“Oh.” She tilted her head and looked at him. “What species are you, then? Rakus giganticus?”

He smirked. “No, but that’s a good one. I’ll have to remember it as a subspecies.”

“Rakus improperus?”

“I am wounded and offended.” He didn’t look wounded or offended. He looked cheerful. “Surely you have heard of the humble, the brilliant, the most sought-after rakus perfectus?” He waggled an eyebrow at her.

She burst into laughter, doubling over.

“Please don’t bow in my presence,” he said. “There’s no need; a mere genuflection will do.”

Violet straightened and set her hand over her heart. “Never say that’s true. Am I really in the presence of rakus perfectus giganticus? Let me fetch my scalpel and perform a dissection right this instant.”

“Again, there’s no need—the study is already complete.” He buffed his nails against his jacket. “The perfectus is formed, you see, when a…well, I would call him an ordinary man, but, well.” Another grin. “Even I am not capable of such delusional self-effacement. When an extraordinary man falls irrevocably in love with a woman he cannot have.”

Violet felt the smile slide off her face.

He shrugged. “Maybe she’s married to another,” he says. “Maybe she doesn’t love him back. Maybe he’s a widower who has lost the love of his life.”

“This is taking a somber turn,” Violet said.

“Rakus perfectus knows he won’t fall in love with anyone else—not so long as he has her in his mind. But he doesn’t like the idea of hurting anyone else.” His voice grew low. “Not while he has her in his mind. His assignations may be fewer in number, but he takes care not just for his welfare, but for his partners’ well-being. Because, well.” He looked away. “Maybe because he imagines that someday, someone might tryst with the woman he loves. If they do, he hopes they’ll treat her the way that he…”

He didn’t finish his sentence. She looked over at him. “Sebastian,” she said. “You’ve been a rake your entire adult life.”

He took a deep breath. “Do you remember on the eve of your wedding, when you were nervous? Do you remember how I joked that you should jilt your husband and elope with me?”

“I was eighteen.” She glanced at him. “You were sixteen. You were still in school.”

“Yes, well.” He swallowed. “Also, I wasn’t joking.”

She didn’t know what to say. “Sebastian, you can’t mean that. That was sixteen years ago. You were a boy.”

“My point precisely,” he said quietly. “I was a boy, and back then—at first—I figured I would grow out of it. And I did, actually. For a while. It was just…I grew back into it, too.” He shrugged.

She shook her head.

“Over the years, it has changed. Shifted. It has been sixteen years, and during that entire time, I have not been having sex with you.” His hand closed around her wrist, his forefinger lightly pressing her wrist. “I know that even the thought of that sends you into a tearing panic.”

She exhaled slowly. She could feel her pulse hammering against his finger.

“I know you, Sebastian,” she said. “You like sex, and for me, it’s a complete disaster.”

He simply raised an eyebrow. “Let me tell you more about rakus perfectus,” he said. “The whole point of raking is to make sure that everyone is satisfied and safe. There was one night when the woman I was with changed her mind after she came up to the hotel room I had taken for the evening. We spent the night playing vingt-et-un for pennies.”