Page 49 of The Rake Desires the Diamond

“Fuck,” Evan mouthed back as he stared at her perky nipples.

Katrina leaped from the bed and hobbled about gathering her clothing. “He can’t find us like this.”

No shite. Harrington would gut him. But even with his death imminent, Evan wanted to stare at Katrina’s tits and cunny.

God almighty. He needed to get hold of himself and his misbehaving prick. He climbed from the bed and fumbled with his shirt buttons.

“For fuck’s sake, Eaton, wake up,” Harrington called through the door. With no further warning, his host barged into the room, bellowing, “Your sister had the baby. We are unc—” He stopped short and gawked at Katrina. “What the bloody hell?”

At least Katrina had managed to pull her dress into place and hop into her shoes. However, there was no mistaking the reason for her disheveled hair or the undergarments clasped to her chest.

Forming a fist and roaring, Harrington stomped toward Evan.

“Ethan, no!” Katrina dropped her stays to grasp her brother’s arm.

He spun on her. “How could you? You are courting Springy. And with him.” He waved in Evan’s direction, a sneer on his face. “He’s fucked half of England.”

And Harrington had fucked the other half. Although this probably wasn’t the time to bring it up.

Katrina clung to her brother’s arm. “But Alexander knows about us.”

Teeth bared, Harrington growled at her, then lunged at Evan.

“Let us all calm down,” Evan said, his hands non-threateningly extended as if he were charming an unbroken horse.

“How about I beat you to a bloody pulp,” Harrington said.

“You’d maim your niece or nephew’s uncle? Well, other uncle. Because… Hell, Harrington, we have a baby to think about.” What an absurd declaration, but Evan desperately needed to distract the man.

It worked. Blinking, the angry beast stepped back.

“Nephew. The missive said they had a boy. William the Fifth.”

Despite the horrific awkwardness of the situation, Evan smiled. Another nephew to play with. Grand indeed.

A few tears dripped down Katrina’s cheeks. Evan should comfort her, but Harrington stepped between them, thwarting any approach.

“Did you defile my sister?”

Technically, had he? His tongue wasn’t his cock, so probably not. Still, he’d do the noble thing. Well, not ask for her hand because that would be suicide. But he’d do the next best thing.

He pulled his shoulders back. “I plan to court Katrina.”

She gasped.

Why had he been so terrified of commitment? That wasn’t so bad. He hadn’t incinerated or passed out—quite the opposite. He felt bloody good. He beamed at her.

“If she will have me, that is.”

Surely, after last night, she would accept his sincere offer, unrehearsed rubbish that it was.

“If you think William will agree to a courtship, you are insane.”

Damnation, Harrington could bellow.

“Eaton, you bloody fool. You don’t even have a title.”

Evan bristled. Maybe not. But he wasn’t exactly a pauper. He was a bloody aristocrat. His brother and father and grandfather and great-great-grandfather going generations back, were bloody earls. Enough of this nonsense and the insults.