Her smile was sweetly false. “With good reason. I predicted your debauchery, and this evening I was proved right.”
It annoyed him a little that she considered him so dissolute. “I am not as depraved as the gossips paint me.”
“I found you here, did I not? When I arrived, there was more than one lady of the evening draped all over you.” Her frown expressed censure.
“Appearances can be deceiving.”
“Do you deny you are here for the carnal sport?”
“Actually, I do.”
“Then you have another purpose for being here? Please, enlighten me.”
Divulging his private affairs and discussing family secrets that went back nearly three decades went against his grain. He wouldn’t tell her his real reason—that he wanted to unearth information about a treasured family heirloom. The situation was much too complicated and delicate just now, particularly since it involved his temperamental former mistress, which would only be more ammunition for Miss Stratham to use against him.
“Perhaps I came for the cards and the cuisine more than camaraderie and companionship. They serve a good dinner here.”
She cocked her head, skepticism rife in her expression.
“I do not have to justify myself to you, Miss Stratham.”
“No, of course you do not. And truly, I cared nothing for your dissipation until I heard rumors that you were pursuing my sister. She is not in your league, Lord Traherne. You shouldn’t take advantage of young, green girls. You should keep to women of experience who understand the danger you present.”
“You assume I am pursuing her and not the other way around.”
That gave her pause. “Are you saying that Ophelia is throwing herself at you?”
He’d found Ophelia a bit tongue-tied but earnest and eager to please him—understandable since she was desperate to regain social acceptance. “Perhaps a little. It would not be the first time I have been the target of marriage-minded females. What does your sister say about my supposed courtship?”
Venetia looked uncomfortable. “I haven’t spoken with her since I left for France. We have merely corresponded by letter.”
“So you haven’t seen her in two years.”
“Regrettably, no.”
He’d heard that her parents still refused to speak to Venetia even now, two years after her rebellion, a true shame. But she seemed to shrug off any vestige of self-pity when she remarked, “I can understand how Ophelia would have stars in her eyes. It is flattering to be sought after by a wealthy, handsome nobleman.”
“Your parents certainly seem pleased by my notice.”
“No doubt they are,” she muttered with a trace of bitterness. “They were distressed that I would not become a viscountess, and you are an even greater prize than Ackland. But you are cut from the same cloth as he.”
Matthew Waring, Viscount Ackland, had been a friend since their university days, but the comparison stung Quinn a little. Unlike Ackland, indulging in extended bouts of carnal pleasure was no longer satisfying. His passion now was developing the possibilities that lay within the realm of science and cultivating the innovation that might have changed his parents’ tragic fate when they’d perished at sea during a storm all those years ago.
Quinn crossed his arms over his chest, irritated that Venetia thought so poorly of him. “Your insulting me is hardly the way to persuade me to your point of view.”
She drew a deep breath, as if forcing herself to control her frustration. “I do not wish to insult you, my lord. I simply came to ask you to please leave my sister alone.”
“Have you considered that my attentions might actually be good for her?”
“Not if you seduce her and destroy what remains of her good name.”
It rankled that she thought he would stoop so low. Particularly when he was actually attempting to help her sister. His notice would garner Ophelia greater cachet with the ton. And attention from a wealthy earl could go a long way toward making her a desirable candidate for some young buck looking for a genteel wife. “I am not in the habit of ruining young girls.”
“No?” Her lips pressed in a line. “You are a libertine of the worst sort.”
“Surely not the worst. Your own betrothed was worse.” His drawl obviously riled her, but at his added remark, she looked wounded for a moment.
“No doubt you are right.” Another tinge of bitterness laced her tone. Then she pulled back her shoulders and drew herself up to her full height. “I hoped to reason with you, Lord Traherne, but I can see it is pointless.”