Page 52 of To Pleasure a Prince

“Oh yes…it is…” Byrne choked out between guffaws. “The idea of you…in that place…with all those humor-less bitches…”

“Can you get it or not?”

Byrne’s laughter died. “My God, you’re serious.”

“Of course I’m serious. You think I’d come here in the wee hours of the morning just to tweak your nose about something like that? I’ve got better things to do with my time.”

“Like go to Almack’s.” Byrne erupted into laughter again.

Marcus wanted to choke him. “If youcan’tget me the voucher—”

“Then nobody else can either,” Byrne put in quickly, as Marcus’s dire glance stifled the rest of his fit of humor. “As it is, I’ll have to call in every marker to manage it.”

“Isn’t one of your former mistresses a Lady Patroness?”

“Yes, but even she can only go so far to sway the rest of them.”

“I thought they tend to approve men of title because they’re good catches.”

Byrne snorted. “Somehow I doubt that the term ‘good catch’ includes men who bear nicknames with the word ‘dragon’ in them. Or who wear thick beards. Or dress in clothes more outdated than the lowest servant’s. Or—”

“Enough. I take your meaning.” Confound it all, the man was as bad as Regina. “I can’t do anything about what I’m called, but I thought you might suggest…that is, if you have a tailor you use regularly—”

“Certainly,” Byrne said, thankfully staving off the rest of his humiliating speech. “My fellow will get you fixed up in no time or kill himself trying.”

“I’ll need the voucher—and the clothes—for the assembly Wednesday.”

“You don’t ask for much, do you?” Byrne sighed. “I can’t get you a voucher by then, but I can get you a Stranger’s Ticket. Assuming Louisa receives her voucher, you can attend as her guest…ifyou pass muster when you present yourself to the patronesses.”

Present himself? Like some schoolboy? Marcus nearly told Byrne to forget the whole thing. But to get Regina back, he had to do this right. “Fine.”

“You’ll have to promise to behave with decorum.”

“Of course.”

“Are you sure you know how?”

Not entirely.Now that his initial anger at Regina’s comments had waned, he realized there was some truth to her words. It had been years since he’d even attempted to be correct in society. What if he’d forgotten how? What if he made a fool of himself?

He snorted. As if they cared how he behaved—no matter what he did, they would shun him. But he had to make the attempt, for Louisa’s sake.

“Marcus?” his brother prodded.

“Yes, with decorum. You’ll have to remind me what that is.”

His brother grinned. “Certainly. To the extent thatIknow what it is.” His grin faded. “There’s more, however. You’ll have to cut your hair.”

“I know.”

“And get rid of your beard.”

Damn.He’d started growing it on the day a maidservant fainted at the sight of his scar. The whiskers had covered his face for nigh on nine years now. “My scar will show,” he said tightly as he picked up the poker to stoke the fire.

“The Lady Patronesses care less about scars than fashion. And with the war over and our brave soldiers coming home, scars are all the crack.”

He doubted that his would be, but he had no choice. “Fine,” he said, staring down at the hot poker. “I’ll shave off the beard.”

A long silence passed before Byrne said, “She really got to you, didn’t she?”