Page 62 of His Improper Lady

“Ah. Like Demosthenes. Or was it Diogenes?” His indolent drawl was underlaid by a taunting tone. He employed the upper-crust pose well, Tom thought, using that careless hauteur to intimidate. Tom was certain it was an act, though he wasn’t sure exactly why Wells used it. But he wasn’t about to let the other man think he could be pushed about.

“I wouldn’t know about any of those Greeks. You’ll have to ask your cousin the duke about them.” Tom’s smile was more a baring of teeth, at odds with the lightness of his tone. “I’m just a man of the streets, myself.” He shrugged. “Of course, I can understand why you’re concerned I might take advantage of Desiree. You want to protect your sister. Shelter her, keep her safe, what with her not being able to do it herself. I’m sure Desiree understands that, too.”

Wells’s eyes widened fractionally as he realized what Tom had just done. Out of the corner of his eye, Tom could see Desiree drawing up, her gaze taking on an unholy light, and she said in a viciously sweet tone, “Yes, Wells, why don’t you explain why I need looking after like a child? I’m sure I’d like to hear it.”

Tom’s eyes danced. Wells shot a rueful glance at him, the ghost of a smile touching his lips, and he murmured, “Well played, Mr. Quick.”

Tom decided that this was an excellent time to leave. Nodding to Wells and Desiree, he bade them goodbye and started toward the door.

“Wait.” This time it was Desiree who stopped Tom. “Tomorrow...” She stopped, and Tom suspected the realization had hit her, just as it had that moment occurred to him. “Oh. I don’t suppose there’s anything we need to do tomorrow. I, um, I shall see you when we go to visit Aunt Wilhemina, then?”

He nodded, disappointed. The next day seemed devoid of interest now. “I—you still should have someone with you when you go to the club. If you’re planning to keep up your games.”

“Yes, I am. Though I rather think Falk will have received the message after tonight.”

“Perhaps. Well...” Tom was very aware of her brother still lurking in the background. “I shall see you tomorrow evening, then. Good night.”

Tom went to the front door and opened it, but couldn’t resist turning and casting a last glance back at her. It was gratifying to see that Desiree had trailed after him and was watching him from the door of the parlor. It was even better to see her smile at him. And that would have to do for this evening.

He trotted down the steps and started off, casting a quick glance up and down the street for the carriage that had lain in wait for Desiree the other day. There was no sign of it, but that didn’t mean anything. It was very late. And even if Falk had gotten the message tonight, there was the possibility that the man who had stalked them the other day was not working for Falk.

It was, therefore, perfectly reasonable to escort Desiree to the club and back. It wasn’t merely an excuse to see Desiree again.

Tom snorted. Who was he trying to fool? It was exactly that. And he’d spend tomorrow just waiting for the moment he could be with her. He was as sure of that as he was of the fact that he’d spend the rest of tonight thinking about her.

He was in serious trouble.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

TOM WAS SITTING at his desk the next morning, trying to find something to do to make the time pass until this evening, when a well-dressed man stepped into the office. The visitor paused for a moment, casting an encompassing look around the office and landing on Tom. His hair was dark and his eyes gray, and his well-modeled face would have been handsome had it been less inexpressive. He stood straight as an arrow, his immaculate clothes clearly tailored to fit his slim figure, his cravat tied in a moderate fashion. Gold glinted discreetly at his cuffs, and a pearl stickpin nestled in the folds of his cravat. He was the picture of a gentleman, well dressed but understated, wealth and privilege in every line.

Tom took an instant dislike to him. He kept stubbornly to his seat, though normally he would have risen out of politeness; he was sure this fellow was all too accustomed to everyone popping up when he came into a room.

“Can I help you?” He remembered a second too late that “may” was correct, not “can,” and it bothered him that he’d slipped in front of this man. It also bothered him that it bothered him.

“I am looking for Lord Moreland. I understood that this was where he could be found.” He glanced back at the door as if he had mistaken the name.

“Yes, this is Moreland & Quick, but he’s not in yet. Can I help you?” Tom deliberately repeated the mistake.

“I think not. It’s Constantine to whom I must speak.”

“You know Con?” Tom asked, a bit surprised that Con was close enough to someone of such perfection that he called him by name—even if it was a name Con never used.

The man’s expression turned faintly disapproving at what he doubtlessly considered impertinence, but he answered. “Yes, I know him. He is my cousin.”

Tom’s brows shot up. Cousin? It wasn’t their cousin Albert; Tom had met him. There were others, he knew, but his mind went straight to Gregory, Alistair Moreland’s legitimate son. The man certainly fit the twins’ description of their cousin. Could this man be Desiree’s other half brother? If so, Tom supposed he had to be polite to him. “I see. Well, he’s probably still at the house. I’ll give him a message from you, if you’d like.”

“No, I’ll just—” At that moment, Alex appeared in the doorway, and the man turned. “Ah. Constantine. There you are.” Obviously, he didn’t know Con well enough to distinguish him from his twin. “Good morning.”

“I’m Alex,” Alex said, looking at him curiously.

“Oh. I beg your pardon.” A line of red bloomed on the man’s cheekbones, which did, now that Tom thought about it, have a resemblance to the Morelands’ angular bone structure. “I, um...”

“Do I know you?” Alex asked, still studying their visitor. “You look familiar.”

“I am your cousin,” the other man said, irritation threading his voice. “Gregory.”

“Cousin Gregory!” Alex glanced over at Tom, then back to Gregory. “Then I will beg your pardon,” Alex said with an affable smile. “I should have recognized you. At least you knew it was one of us.”