Page 25 of To Pleasure a Prince

“You already said your piece when you banished me from the drawing room, Katherine.” Defiantly, he poured himself more whisky. “You’re wasting your time continuing the lecture.”

“Yes, you don’t take lectures from anyone, do you?” answered a soft female voice from the doorway.

A knot twisted in his gut. Damn, damn, damn.

He faced Lady Regina with a scowl. “I certainly won’t take them from you. So if you thought to teach me a lesson with your little display in the drawing room—”

Her chin quivered. “I wasn’t trying to teach you anything.” With a glance down the hall, she entered and closed the door.

“Are you sure it’s wise to be alone with me with the door closed, madam?” He tried not to notice how prettily her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkled when she was upset. “What would people think?”

“I don’t care. And anyway, no one saw me come in here.”

He gave a harsh laugh. “Of course not. You’re no fool when it comes to preserving your image as society’s reigning queen.” But she wouldn’t be so cavalier about it if she knew that just the sight of her looking like a goddess in that gossamer silk gown made him want to grab her by the throat and shake her.

Or kiss her senseless.

When she neared him, he tensed. “If giving me the cut indirect did you no good,” he said, “what makes you think—”

“I was not giving you any sort of cut whatsoever,” she said stoutly.

“Right.” He took a deep swallow of whisky.

“I simply didn’t want to make a fool of myself by bumbling through a song I didn’t know.”

Damn her for thinking he cared. And damn him for caring. “Whatever you say, madam. I understand how these things work.”

“Drat it, I am trying to explain!”

“There’s nothing to explain. I’ve already forgotten it.”

“I haven’t,” she said in those dulcet tones that cast a spell on every man who heard them. “I didn’t intend to hurt your feelings.”

A red haze formed behind his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not one of your slobbering sycophants who might moan and threaten to do himself in when you give him one of your set-downs. I don’t give a damn what you think of me. Go on back to your friends. I’ve no interest in listening to you chastise me for exposing your true nature to the crowd.”

“Mynature?” Her eyes narrowed. “Now see here, you thickheaded dolt, the only nature you exposed in that drawing room was yours. You merely proved that you have absolutely no sense of proper behavior or gentlemanly discretion. What you said about me wasn’t true in the least, and everyone knew it.”

“Really? So you acquired your nickname by accident, La Belle Dame Sans Merci?”

Her flinch told him he’d wounded her. It should have pleased him. It didn’t.

“Say what you wish about me,” she retorted, “but you ought to at least care how your reputation for churlishness affects Louisa. It’s the only thing marring her standing in society.”

“If this is society, she’s well out of it.”

“Oh? She’s better off stagnating in the country with no one but you for company?You,who’d rather bury himself in a book than have a civil conversation with an actual person?”

“And what’s wrong with that?” With his whisky glass, he gestured to Iversley’s many books. “I’m not the only person who takes refuge in books. Just becauseyoudon’t like them—”

“I never said that.” She sounded surprisingly defensive. “I merely think there’s more to life. A person cannot find everything in a book.”

“Ah, but you’re wrong. I can find whatever I want in my library.”

“Music?” She strolled up to him. “You can’t find music.”

He set down his glass and turned to Iversley’s bookshelves. Searching until he found the right volume, he opened it and read aloud, “‘Golden slumbers kiss your eyes/ Smiles awake you when you rise.’ It’s a poem by Thomas Dekker, now used as a common lullaby. You probably heard the tune in your head as I read it.”

“That’s not the same as hearing it sung. Reading the words of my favorite opera, for example, certainly wouldn’t satisfy me.”