To Desire a Devil (Legend of the Four Soldiers #4)(60)

“Do you suppose he doesn’t wash?”

Hasselthorpe paused, his wineglass halfway to his lips. “The fish?”

“No, silly!” Adriana trilled gaily. “Mr. Graham. Some gentlemen seem to think washing their persons is merely a monthly or even yearly chore. Do you suppose Mr. Graham is one of them?”

Hasselthorpe blinked. “I—”

“Because I can’t think why else Lottie would leave him.” Adriana frowned. “He’s quite handsome and rather charming, and I haven’t heard any tales of him keeping one mistress, let alone two, so I think it must be the washing, or rather not washing, don’t you?”

He sighed. “Adriana, my dear, as usual, you’ve quite lost me.”

“Have I?” She smiled at him. “But I didn’t mean to. And you considered one of the leading lights of the Tories, too!”

Her ripple of laughter was enough to send a less-strong man into raving fits. As it was, Hasselthorpe merely smiled tightly at his spouse. “Very amusing, my dear.”

“Yes, aren’t I?” she said complacently, and went back to poking at her fish. “I think it must be the reason you love me.”

Hasselthorpe sighed. Because despite her lack of wits, her irritating conversation, and her execrable decorating style, Adriana was quite right about this one matter.

He did love her.

BEATRICE SHOULD’VE BEEN suspicious when Reynaud sat down to dine with her and her uncle that night. But alas, she was so caught up in keeping her expression bland that she didn’t even think to wonder what he was doing there. So when he made his request over the fish, she nearly choked on her wine.

“What did you say?” Beatrice gasped when she’d caught her breath.

“I wasn’t addressing you,” the odious backstabber said.

“Well, you’ll certainly have to consult with me about the matter eventually,” she said tartly.

A muscle in Reynaud’s jaw flexed. “I doubt—”

“No!” roared Uncle Reggie.

Beatrice’s head swung toward her uncle in alarm. His face had gone the color of claret. “Please don’t excite yourself—”

“It’s not enough that you must have my title, but now you want to take my niece as well,” Uncle Reggie bellowed. He thumped a fist on the table, making the silverware jump.

“I haven’t accepted Lord Hope’s proposal,” Beatrice said soothingly.

“But you will,” Reynaud said, crushing what little peace she might’ve gained.

“Don’t you threaten my niece!” Uncle Reggie shouted.

Reynaud’s lips thinned. “I don’t threaten; I merely state a fact.”

And they were off again. Really, she might not be in the room for all the attention they paid her. She was like an old bone for two dogs to fight over. Beatrice sighed and sipped her wine again, taking a surreptitious glance at Reynaud. He’d left her the night before, soon after their lovemaking, and she hadn’t seen him all day. He wore the white wig tonight and a dark wine-red coat that made his tanned skin and dark brows and eyes exotically elegant. The iron cross earring swung against his jaw as he tilted his head mockingly at her uncle. It made him look a bit like a pirate, she decided.

He caught her eye and winked. The rest of his face was impassive, and it was done so quickly that she almost thought she imagined it. Did he really want to marry her? The notion sent an odd shaft of warmth to her center.

Until Uncle Reggie said, “You only want to marry my niece to bolster your claim that you aren’t mad. It’s another scheme to steal my house and title!”

Well, that was certainly dampening. Beatrice stared fixedly at her wineglass. She would not weep before these two buffoons.

Reynaud’s upper lip curved in a sneer as he leaned toward her uncle. “It’s my house. How many times must I repeat it? The title, the house, the monies, and, yes, now Beatrice. They’re all mine. You hold them by the tips of your fingers, and they’re all sliding away from you, old man. That’s why you’re so angry.”

Beatrice cleared her throat. “I don’t know if either of you are aware, but I am sitting right here.”

Reynaud lifted an eyebrow at her, his black eyes glinting. “And would you care to join this conversation? Perhaps list one or two reasons a match between us is inevitable?”

How dare he? The threat was implicit that he’d inform Uncle Reggie that he’d bedded her if she balked at this proposal.

Beatrice lifted her chin, addressing her remarks to Uncle Reggie, although she still held Reynaud’s gaze. “I’m sure Lord Hope would be amenable to some sort of compensation for your stewardship of the earldom, Uncle.”

A corner of Reynaud’s mouth quirked as he mouthed, “Touché.”

But Uncle Reggie roared, “Be damned afore I accept help from this popinjay!”

Beatrice sighed. Gentlemen could be so extraordinarily pigheaded sometimes. “It wouldn’t be help, Uncle; it would be compensation for years of service to the title. Really, it’s only fitting.”

Reynaud leaned back in his chair, watching her speculatively. “Whatever makes you think I’d give anything to this usurper of my title?”

“Well, fitting or not, I’ll not accept it.” Uncle Reggie pushed back his chair with a thump. “I’ll leave you, Niece, to the company of this man you’ve chosen over me.”