Page 35 of A Gentleman's Wager

“With his fingers, and his mouth.” Louisa said.

Bella clammed both hands over her mouth as if to contain her shock. Really, she was fighting not to grin like an idiot.

“Well of all the beastly, devilish—”

“It was rather nice actually.”

“So, Frederick?” Bella said, only for Louisa to shake her head.

“He only put his hand on my thigh.”

Bella dug her teeth into her lower lip, now torn between horror and… and some vague feeling of malcontent that had her squirming where she sat. “You can’t honestly expect me to believe anything MarquisI’m far too high and mighty to condescend to speaking to youwould ever do could be considered nice. If you’d said… I don’t know, cruel, or wicked, or perverted maybe. Even mesmerising or galvanic, but not… I really can’t countenance him doing anything nice.”

“Well, it was,” Louisa stuck out her tongue.

Bella shook her head so hard the thick plait she’d bound her hair into whipped free of its binding. “You ought never to go near him again.”

“That’s interesting,” Louisa primly settled her hands upon her lap. “Wakefield said almost exactly the same thing.”

“You didn’t tell him that Pennerley’s kisses were nice, did you?”

“Of course not, I’m not an imbecile, Bella. I do hope he might actually propose. I’m not even sure why I’m telling you. Do you think Pennerley will tell Wakefield?”

“No,” she reassured. “Why would he? Definitely not.” Actually, she wouldn’t put it past him to do it purely to get a rise out of the captain. “Lou, he’s the very worst sort of man. The very worst. But if rakehells are good at anything it’s at keeping their mouths shut when it’s prudent to do so. He’s hardly going to want to risk being forced into marriage over a few kisses, is he? That’s assuming he’s the integrity to even act honourably. The horrid beast probably wouldn’t care a fig if he ruined you.”

“You make a grand case for avoiding rakes.”

“I should think so,” Bella huffed, with no intention of ever taking her own advice. “You should make a list of those to avoid.”

Louisa curled her hand around Bella’s and intertwined their fingers. “That’s a good idea. I’ll call it men to avoid, or at least approach with extreme caution. Let’s see… Those with a title, long dark hair, too much charm—”

“I’ve seen none of that.”

“This isn’t specific to Pennerley.”

“Arrogant, self-centred bastards,” suggested Bella, ignoring her.

“Good kissers—”

“Is he? Is he really?”

Louisa smiled so that a dimple appeared in her cheek. “I’ve not had much to compare him with, but I’d say so, and I’ll remind you that I do love Frederick.”

“But he’s not so nice to smooch as Pennerley? Damned! What list are we compiling again?”

Louisa dropped her head on to her curled up knees. She sniggered and shook her head. “You know, I think Pennerley may like you more than you think. He’s always staring at you, and he was the only one even slightly curious about what you were doing in the church with Lord Marlinscar that was taking so long. In fact, he looked positively put out.”

“Is that so?”

The hairs on the back of Bella’s neck were standing up, and echoes of the dream Louisa had woken her from were appearing as flashes in her mind. They left her feeling unsettled. Pennerley infuriated her. He was rude, unpleasant, and she didn’t want him in her head. “You won’t even think of giving him your maidenhead will you, Lou?”

“Of course not. I mean to marry Frederick if he should ever ask. I wish I knew how to hurry him along and make him speak up.”

“Witchcraft,” Bella suggested.

“Bella, do be serious.”

But she couldn’t, not when she was agitated in the way she now was. “I’m going to go back to sleep,” she said huffily.