Page 24 of A Sham Engagement

Oh well. “And you can stop looking at each like that. I already know Jack’s a rake.” There, it was out in the open now. “If that was what you were both wondering about telling me. I know all about rakes.”

“You do?” Jolyon sounded disbelieving. “Are you sure?”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“We-ell,” Matthew said. “From what I’ve heard, and I’ve not been in Town that long but rumor does get about, he has a mistress.”

Jolyon nodded. “And she’s not his first.”

Matthew raised his eyebrows. “She’s not?”

Jolyon sighed. “Of course she’s not, you nincompoop. The man must be nearly forty. You don’t get to that age, unmarried, without leaving behind a string of unsuitable liaisons.”

Silence fell. Elenora and Matthew exchanged glances this time.

“Do you have a mistress, Joly?” Elenora asked.

His blush, deep and crimson and encompassing every square inch of skin above his cravat, gave her the answer.

“You do?” Matthew’s eyes had gone wide. “You sly dog.”

Jolyon had the grace to look awkward. “Not in front of Sis. Not for her ears. And don’t tell me you haven’t found a fancy piece in Oxford. I know how you fancy that actress.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Elenora snapped.

They both shook their heads in unison, faces a matching shade of puce.

Elenora couldn’t help herself. She had to giggle. “You should see your expressions. You’re both very funny and no doubt consider yourselves as suitable husband material despite Joly having a mistress and Matthew having had liaisons with… with ladies of… of lesser virtue in Oxford. So in what way does that enable you to pass judgment on my betrothed? You should think of your Bible and remember the saying ‘let he who is without sin cast the first stone.’”

Jolyon found his voice first. “I say, Sis, I’m sorry if I flew off the handle a bit. Just trying to look out for you. If this fellow suits you, then it’s your choice. I’ll be honored to welcome him into our family. And the last thing I’d like to be classed as is ‘suitable husband material’—not for a long while yet at any rate.”

“Me too,” Matthew said, with a wide grin. “If he can make you happy, then we’ll be happy too.”

Elenora hugged herself inside. “You may rest assured, my dear brothers, that being engaged to Lord Broxbourne is making me very happy indeed.” Which was practically the only true thing she’d told them. She rose to her feet. “And now I think I’d better change for dinner.”

And with that she swept, she hoped regally, out of the library. Behind her she heard Matthew saying, “Now, what was she reading? One of those silly books on history she so likes, I’ll be bound. And it is!”

Brothers.

Chapter Ten

By the time Jack arrived back at his house in Portland Place, the lamplighters were out and the streets were a mix of pools of light and darker, shadowy spots which had to be hastened through. No sense in making a target of himself, despite his skills at self-defense. The cane he carried was a sword stick, something he’d had occasion to use more than once while abroad in the evenings. London, even in its most salubrious areas, was not a safe place at night.

People were still about, of course, but with the onset of darkness were more likely to be up to nefarious deeds than not. The scent of cheap tobacco smoke lingered in the damp air. Not a smell Jack was fond of, and he hurried his steps. It was not unknown for a gentleman out at night to be accosted even in a street like Portland Place. It didn’t do to linger.

A carriage he recognized stood outside his front door, the four horses draped with blankets to stave off the chill and the driver hunched in his great coat on the front seat, a little red about the nose and miserable. He didn’t require the coat of arms on the door to know that his mother had come to call on him. His father must have told her of his long-awaited engagement. Damn it, although he’d known he couldn’t keep it a secret from her.

Once inside, he handed his hat, gloves and cane to Alcock and took the stairs two at a time. As he’d expected, his mother was in the drawing room on the first floor, seated in upright and righteous splendor on the blue chaise longue.

The Countess of Amberley, at three and sixty, was still a beautiful woman. Her once dark hair had gone steely gray, but her eyes, sharp and dark as her son’s, had lost none of their acute intelligence.

She fixed Jack with a stare as steely as her hair. “Ah, Jack. I wondered how long I would have to wait.” She did not sound happy. What could have given her cause for such a demeanor?

A little puzzled, Jack made a smart bow and approached where she was sitting. She held out a gloved hand for him to kiss, which he did. “Mama, how lovely to see you.” How true this was would be revealed.

“Sit down.” She patted the space beside her. “I have very little time as it’s now so late, and Graves is outside with the carriage, waiting, as no doubt you have seen. The horses will be cold.”

Trust her to think of the horses before her driver.