Never Trust a Rake

‘Indeed we do. It is one of life’s harmless little pleasures.’

She huffed. ‘It might be harmless for men to look, but I’m beginning to think that attempting to make men look is not harmless at all. Why, I have seen married ladies sashaying round the room in such a way that nobody can doubt they are doing it on purpose to make men look. And the ones that do that have a tendency to smile in a rather naughty way at handsome gentlemen once they’ve caught their attention. And shoot them positively inviting looks over the tops of their fans,’ she finished in disgust. ‘Oh, no doubt you’ve seen it all before. But I never really thought about the way women go about attracting the notice of men before.’

‘And it shocks you,’ he observed.

‘Yes, it does. It does not seem to me the way that married ladies ought to conduct themselves at all. I...I suppose that makes me seem very gauche to you, sir.’

‘Say refreshing, rather.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh, yes. You are the only female I have ever met who says what she thinks. Most ladies do nothing but flirt with me. They speak on the surface about one topic, whilst underneath there is always a second meaning.’

She frowned. ‘Even the married ones? With you?’

Of course they did. He was famous for having conducted affairs only with married women at one stage in his life. She hoped he would not take her remark as a criticism of his own behaviour. Of course, it was very reprehensible. But somehow she found the women who would betray their husbands more to blame than a single gentleman who took them up on their invitation.

‘Yes. While their husbands are in the card room dealing with their boredom by gambling for ridiculous stakes, their wives get their thrills from seeking out new lovers. Say it.’

‘Say what?’

‘What you are thinking. I can see it written all over your face, so you might just as well ask why on earth they got married in the first place, if neither of them meant to remain faithful.’

‘I don’t need to now, do I?’

‘Persons of my rank choose partners because they come from good stock. It is all about inheritance. Bloodlines. There is very rarely any affection between such a couple. At best they tolerate each other, whilst getting on with their own lives.’

‘That’s very sad.’

His mouth twisted into a cynical smile. ‘It is the way of the world.’

‘And why you have never married.’ She felt his arm stiffen under her hand and shot him a nervous look. She should not have presumed to touch upon such a personal matter. He was frowning.

‘So far,’ he agreed. ‘Though I shall have to marry, one day.’

His heart was beating rapidly. Not that she was ready to receive a proposal from him, not yet. Besides, he would never propose to a woman in such a public place, during the interval between one act and the next. But this was a golden opportunity to open the topic so that when he did propose, it would not come as a complete shock.

‘I must have an heir, you see. I do have a younger brother, but lately I have begun to see that he is not a suitable person to succeed to the title, should I die childless.’ His mouth twisted into a grimace of distaste. ‘It is no secret. He is not my father’s son.’

‘Not your father’s...’ Henrietta’s eyes widened.

‘No. My mother was one of those ladies who did not take her marriage vows all that seriously, not once she’d done her duty in producing me. And although many men of my father’s rank do not care, he did not regard her infidelities with complaisance. It led to such unpleasantness that it has rather soured me against the whole idea of entering the married state.’

‘I am not surprised,’ she murmured.

‘However, I really cannot allow my own preferences to prevent me from doing my duty indefinitely. Just recently, I have begun to...’

‘What?’ He had remained broodingly silent for so long she’d begun to think he had regretted confiding in her.

But then he flashed her a grim smile and said, ‘It is that damned poem, if you must know. The one about time’s winged chariot thundering up behind a man. It has been haunting me ever since my friend Toby Warren’s funeral. It was the unexpected nature of his death, I think, that shook me. One night I was drinking with him in my club, the next morning he was as dead as a doornail, for no apparent reason.’