Page 90 of The Danger of Desire

“Oh, trust me,” Delia put in, with a sly glance at Warren, “I have no doubt my husband can out-scapegrace any man in society.”

Hart grinned at her. “I see that your wife is not only beautiful but clever.”

“She is indeed. Not to mention prone to making up words.” Warren tightened his proprietary hold on her. “So have you eaten?”

“I have. Your servants took good care of me.”

“And I assume you’re staying here while you’re in town?” Warren asked.

Hart flashed Delia a quick glance. “I don’t know. You twoarenewly married. I wouldn’t wish to intrude.”

“Nonsense, you must stay,” she said hastily. If ever there was a way to show her husband her wifely abilities, it would be by playing hostess to his brother. “You’re family, and we’re happy to have you. It’s no intrusion at all.”

She knew she’d made the right decision when Hart let out a relieved breath. “Thank you, madam, that is very kind of you. I am delighted to accept.”

Warren nodded to their butler. “Pull out my best bottle of brandy from the cellar and bring it to the drawing room. And have some wine brought for my wife.”

“And some bread and cheese and fruit for all of us,” Delia put in. “I fear that Vauxhall doesn’t offer much in the way of food these days, and I daresay my husband will soon want some sort of supper.”

“Very good, madam,” the butler said, and headed off.

“A gracious hostess as well,” Hart said. “You landed in clover this time, brother.” Offering Delia his arm, he added, “Come, my lady. Tell me all about why you were mad enough to take such an unrepentant scoundrel as this fellow for a husband. And how very much you regret it now that you’ve met his far more superior brother.”

With a laugh, she let him tug her down the hall toward the drawing room as Warren followed behind. Clearly, these Corry brothers were all cut of the same cloth—self-assured, arrogant, and far too charming for any woman’s sanity.

“Watch it, Hart,” Warren drawled. “I daresay I can still out-box you, even if I can’t outshoot or outride you.”

“I doubt that. I’ve been practicing.” He bent to say to her in a conspiratorial voice, “Do let me know when you want to throw over my less accomplished brother. I’m sure I could sneak you into the barracks without being caught.”

“Why would she want to sleep in a bloody barracks,” Warren said testily, “when she can sleep in comfort here?”

“We wouldn’t be sleeping, you dolt,” his brother said as the three of them entered the drawing room. “Wait, don’t tell me you’ve merely been sleeping with your wife. Do I have to explain to you how marriage works, old chap?”

“Oh, Lord,” Delia said before her husband got even more surly with his brother. “Are all the Corry brothers such rascals as you two?”

“Not Stephen,” they said in unison.

Then they both laughed.

Curious to learn anything she could about her husband’s family, she took a seat on the settee and asked, “Why not Lord Stephen? He’s the one who married Mr. Keane’s sister and moved to America, right?”

“That’s the one,” Warren said.

“Our youngest brother takes after our mother,” Hart explained as he sat down across from her. “Whereas Warren and I take after... I don’t know. Not Father, to be sure.”

Warren snorted. “I imagine it’s some ne’er-do-well far back in the family line.”

“Either that or it has nothing to do with blood,” Hart pointed out. “Father merely spoiled us for stuffy pillars of virtue so much that we went the other way out of spite.”

“Could be.” Warren poured himself a glass of brandy from the decanter kept on the side table, then lifted the glass with a glance at his brother. “Want some?”

“I’ll wait for your butler to bring the good brandy,” Hart said with a grin.

“You know damned well I have nothingbutgood brandy.” Warren took a sip.

“Ah, but the ‘best’ is the best, which means nothing else will do.”

Before they started sparring again, she wanted to hear more of their family. “So, how exactly does Stephen take after your mother? Is he Methodist, too?”