Page 7 of The Duke’s Defiant Love

"You are impossible."

"I am selective."

"Selective," Tristan repeated. "That is an elegant word for a man who has rejected half the unmarried ladies in London."

"I have rejected no one."

"No?" Nathaniel asked. "Then what would you call it?"

"Disinterest."

"Repeated disinterest," Tristan said.

"Consistent disinterest."

Julian's expression softened with amusement.

"Which, in your case, may be worse."

Sebastian took a measured sip of his drink.

"You gentlemen make it sound as though I am personally responsible for every disappointed young lady in London."

"No," Tristan said. "Only the ones you have spoken to."

"That narrows it considerably."

They laughed.

Sebastian allowed himself the smallest smile.

It was, he thought, a ridiculous conversation. Yet there was something comfortable in it, something familiar in the ease with which they fell into the old rhythm they had known since their school days—Tristan provoking, Nathaniel observing, Julian quietly dismantling whatever argument the other three had constructed.

"You are all remarkably confident for men whose reputations precede them into every ballroom in London," Sebastian said.

"Ah."

Tristan lifted his glass.

"Now we arrive at the matter."

Nathaniel glanced toward him.

"What matter?"

"His Grace has discovered morality."

"I have always possessed morality."

"Of course."

"I simply prefer it in other people."

Julian laughed under his breath.

"That is the first honest thing you've said all evening."

Sebastian shook his head.