Page 28 of To Pleasure a Prince

Iversley stepped inside, then froze. His gaze swung from Marcus to Regina. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said tersely.

When Regina turned to face Iversley the reserved expression she generally wore was already in place, banishing the tenderness of a few minutes before. Marcus wanted to howl his frustration.

“It’s no problem.” Her voice was as unruffled as if she’d just been taking tea. “His lordship and I were merely talking.”

Marcus knew she was perfectly in her rights to preserve her reputation. But with his blood still in wild riot, he reacted to her calmness as if it were an assault.

“Yes.” He couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice. “Lady Regina was explaining to me why she prefers private duets to public ones.”

The gaze she swung to him was so hurt that he realized her reserve had been only a facade. Anger flared in her eyes, and she slapped him. Hard. “Go to the devil,” she choked out. Then she fled.

As soon as she was gone, Iversley shut the door. “You deserved that.”

“I suppose.” Marcus rubbed his jaw. For an elegant female, her ladyship had quite a swing. And quite a little temper. “But I was merely stating the obvious.”

Iversley shook his head. “Any other woman you set your sights on might put up with your grousing and your insults, but not Lady Regina, society’s reigning—”

“I don’t have my sights set on her.” Marcus strode over to the table with the whisky decanter and picked up the glass he’d left there.

“Liar. I’ve seen how you look at her.”

“No differently than I look at any other attractive female.” His hand shook as he poured himself more whisky. “I’m sure I look at your wife exactly the same.”

“If you did, we’d be dueling at dawn,” Iversley said dryly. “Because you look at Lady Regina as if you want to bed her.”

God help him, he did. “Any man who looked at her would want to bed her.” He downed the whisky. “What of it?”

“Be careful, is all I’m saying. She’s not…er…”

“My kind? We were doing just fine until you interrupted us.”

And until I insulted her.

No, he wouldn’t chastise himself for that…or for her look of betrayal. She’d experimented with kissing the Dragon Viscount, then turned around and expected him to pretend it hadn’t happened becauseshewas ashamed. A pox on her. “Why are you here, anyway?” he asked his brother.

“Katherine said you were getting drunk. I didn’t think that was wise. Of course, if I’d realized you were engaging in another vice—”

“Didn’t you hear Lady Regina? Nothing happened. So go back to your guests and send someone for me when dinner is served.”

“All right.” Iversley opened the door. “But take my advice—next time you engage in ‘nothing’ with Lady Regina, you might want to lock the door.”

As his brother left laughing, Marcus gritted his teeth. Damned interfering relations. Louisa with her matchmaking duets, Katherine with her lectures, and Iversley with his annoying observations. They were blind to the truth—that Foxmoor and his sister represented everything wrong with polite society that Marcus had spent his life avoiding. Foxmoor was a schemer, and Regina…

Well, he hadn’t figured her out yet. No one had forced her to come in here to “explain,” so why bother? Was she genuinely sorry she’d balked at singing with him, or did she have some other motive?

It hardly mattered. After her slap, she couldn’t possibly mean to continue their bargain. She would make that clear later, and he could demand that Foxmoor stay away from Louisa, too. So he would win.

And there would be no more kisses. No more tender caresses, no more—

With an oath, he slammed his whisky glass down on the table. There wouldn’t have been any more kisses, anyway. Lady Regina’s little adventure had surely taught her what he already knew—they were not suited for each other in any way.

Too bad he already ached to kiss her again.

Chapter Seven

If your dire looks and somber reproofs do not work, you can never go wrong by bringing the young lady’s male relations into the picture.

—Miss Cicely Tremaine,The Ideal Chaperone