The Harlot Countess (Wicked Deceptions #2)(37)

“Indeed, I’ve no doubt. But perhaps Lady Hawkins is more than an acquaintance—if gossip is to be believed, that is.”

“Gossip you are no doubt helping to spread.”

Cranford held up his hands, all innocence. “I am only relaying what I’ve heard. Some members of Lords wonder how it will look, your acquaintance with a woman of such outrageous morals. Especially considering the nature of your proposed legislation.”

That set Simon’s teeth on edge. “My opponents would, of course, be eager to embrace any weakness—real or perceived.”

“Oh, these aren’t your opponents making their displeasure known. These are your allies.”

Cranford watched him carefully for a reaction, which Simon perversely withheld. He lifted a shoulder. “They will believe what they must. We’ll see in a few months’ time.”

“We will, shall we not? I merely thought I should warn you before you made a terrible mistake. As I nearly did years ago.”

“Your benevolence never ceases to astound, Cranford.” Simon’s tone was dry.

He laughed. “Indeed, I try. So will you finally cut Sir James off from the Winchester financial teat?”

“Winchester.”

Tearing his gaze away from Cranford, Simon found Quint standing by the table. “Evening, Quint.”

Cranford quickly rose. “Here, Quint, have my seat. I believe I’m done. My thanks for the drink, Winchester.”

He strolled away as Quint sat. “What was he going on about?” Quint asked. “When I came in, you looked as if you were about to leap over the table and strangle him with your bare hands.”

Simon finished his wine, leaned forward to pour another. “Cranford stopped by to warn me that my association with Lady Hawkins might negatively influence my standing in Parliament.”

“I’ve heard those rumbles. Ridiculous, when every single man of the ton has a mistress.”

“Except you,” Simon noted.

“I don’t want a mistress. Too much bloody work.”

“Yes, but the very best kind of work,” Simon retorted. Which reminded him, he’d need to find a new mistress now that he and Adrianna had parted ways. He’d ended their association on the night he’d learned she was entertaining other men without his knowledge. Shame he couldn’t have the one woman he truly wanted in his bed. “And Lady Hawkins is not my mistress. Nor my anything, for that matter.”

“Not for a lack of effort on your part, I’ve no doubt.”

Simon drummed his fingers on the table. No arguing that point. He’d be between Maggie’s thighs nightly, if she allowed it. Perhaps in time . . .

Simon came to his feet. “Play hazard with me,” he told Quint.

Quint shook his head. “You never win. You cannot properly calculate the odds.”

Simon clapped his friend on the shoulder. “That is what I have you for. Come along, I need the distraction.”

“Winchester!”

Glancing up, Simon saw Colton, still in his greatcoat, stalking across the room, his face thunderous. The duke reached their table and said, “Grab your things. We need to get to Covent Garden before all hell breaks loose.”





Chapter Ten


After Julia dashed off her mysterious note, Maggie asked, “May I see her?”

“I do not think it wise, my lady. While I can likely get you up there without being seen, I cannot guarantee your ladyship’s anonymity on the second floor. The evenings are no time for a lady to be strolling about in a place such as this.”

“We have our dominoes,” Julia suggested. She pointed to the cloaks and masks she and Maggie had adorned before coming inside.

“A fine suggestion, Your Grace, but the disguise would not be enough to conceal your identity. And I daresay His Grace would have a word or two to say should you be discovered. Likely he’d have me shut down.”

“I would never allow that,” Julia insisted. “Colton may be hotheaded, but he is quick to see reason once I strap him down and beat him about the head with it.”

Maggie wished she shared Julia’s confidence. But she knew better. And exchanging a quick, rueful glance with Madame, it seemed the abbess knew it, too. Men could do whatever they wanted in this world, and women were supposed to keep quiet.

“Have you packed her things?” Maggie asked.

“What little I could, yes.”

“How long has she worked for you?”

“A little over three years, my lady. Never had a speck of trouble with her. The rules here are quite strict and my girls are treated well. I have a reputation to uphold and I shouldn’t like for this to get out. I know that sounds callous—”

“Not at all,” Maggie assured Madame. “You have done the right thing, sending for Pearl. Between the three of us, we can squirrel her off somewhere, get her body healed. Perhaps find her a job in a household.”

Madame nodded. “I am forever in your ladyship’s debt. Your Grace’s as well.”

A soft knock sounded, interrupting. Madame strode to the door, a whisper of elegant silk. Pulling it open, she listened at the crack, then mumbled a few words.

“Your Grace, my lady, please excuse me a moment. There is a matter I must see to.” She curtsied. “Please make yourselves comfortable. There is sherry in the cabinet against the wall.”