Page 84 of Secrets at Sutherland Hall

That irritating eyebrow quirked. “A threesome?”

“Don’t be disgusting, St George,” I told him. “Your life may be full of perversions, but don’t assume that mine is.”

“Of course not.” This time it was his mouth that quirked, and with what looked like genuine amusement. “I haven’t forgiven you for that conversation downstairs, you know. What on earth would compel you to bringthatup in front of my mother?”

“You annoyed me,” I said.

“I see.”

“And I’ll admit I found the information shocking.”

“I’m sure you did.” And it was beyond clear that he meant the remark as an insult. As if I were some backwards provincial who didn’t understand how things worked up in Town.

I did my best to dredge up some patience, when what I really wanted to do was wallop him upside the head. “I’m sorry you can’t have the girl you want, St George, but punishing your family by ruining your reputation and possibly the rest of your life—”

His jaw clenched. “Thank you, Darling, for your care and concern.”

“It’s not care and concern,” I told him, “you absolute tosser. Your family worries about you. And just because the girl in that particular scenario was lying—I assume you were telling the truth about that?”

He raised a shoulder, looking sulky.

“Just because she was lying, doesn’t mean you won’t get caught in the same trap another day, with a girl you’ve actually dallied with. You have to be careful, St George. You have a family name and a title to worry about—”

“Sod my family name and title,” Crispin growled. “Nobody cares about that anymore.”

“Everyone cares about that! Or do you really think these women all flock to you because of your good looks and charm?”

“Why, Darling…”

“They don’t! They want the money and the title, not you!”

“I know,” Crispin said coldly. “You’ve already made it clear this weekend that that’s all I have to offer.”

“Oh, sod off!” It was really terribly rude of me, but I was at my wits’ end. “Go away, St George. I have things to do. And if you want to wrap your new car around another light pole or get yourself caught by another gold-digger with a baby, then don’t come crying to your family about it afterwards.”

“I didn’t come to you this time!” Crispin snarled. “It was nobody’s business but mine, at least until Grimsby dug it up. And I don’t want your sympathy, you muppet. Or your care or concern or worry or whatever it was you threatened me with. You’re awful, Darling, and I don’t care if I ever see you again for as long as I live.”

“Well, that’s just lovely,” I told him darkly. “I hope it’ll be more than two months this time, then, before you show up at the flat.”

“Don’t worry, it will be!”

He vanished from the doorway. Three seconds later, I heard the door across the hall slam.

No more than three seconds after that, the door to the servants’ staircase opened, and then Christopher came into the room, followed by Tom Gardiner. “Was that Crispin?” the former asked, with a look at the door that still vibrated in its frame.

I nodded. “He wanted a chat about what happened downstairs.”

“What happened?” Tom asked, and I turned to him.

“I brought up a few of the things from Grimsby’s dossier in front of his mother. He didn’t like it.”

Tom nodded. “I wouldn’t have liked that, either.”

“It was his own fault,” I said. “He was being a git.”

Tom shrugged. “So about this rifle…”

“Over there.” I pointed.