Lady Jo hadnot come to the salon.
Decker still could not believe it, two days later. He had never, for as long as he had been chasing skirts, beenrefused. Never. Not once.
Not. Ever.
And yet, innocent, proper, prim, wallflower Lady Jo, who had been flushed and breathless following their waltz the evening before, had failed to accept his invitation. It boggled the mind.
He had waited, pacing the newly decorated salon, glaring at the blue damask wall coverings dotted with paintings by Moreau. His strides had all but worn holes in the plush Axminster—a damned improvement upon its threadbare predecessor, Decker could not deny.
He was embarrassed to admit he had arrived ten minutes early and had remained ten minutes after the appointed time. Twenty minutes lost, spent upon a woman who had never had any intention of accepting his offer.
Had she been too afraid?
Did he care?
What he ought to do was discreetly send the list back to her and forget he had ever seen it.
Not bloody likely.It was secreted inside a pocket in his jacket even now.
“Brandy?”
Sin interrupted Decker’s tumultuous thoughts, bringing him back to the present where he belonged. He had decided to pay a call on his old friend today, needing some distraction. Not because ofher, naturally. He was merely restless.
Lady Jo had nothing to do with his affliction.
He blinked, focusing upon the earl. “No brandy today, old chap. I have a manuscript to read this afternoon for the press.”
Sin poured a brandy for himself from the sideboard in his study. “Deadly dull these days, Decker.”
“I am a man of business,” he pointed outsansheat. “I must earn my keep. And I may as well say the same of you, now that you are a happily domesticated beast.”
Sin grinned. “Domesticity is bliss. Perhaps you ought to try it yourself.”
Decker shuddered. “Blasphemy.”
He was pleased to see Sin in a marriage that—in spite of its dubious beginnings—contented him. But marriage was not for everyone. And it most certainly was not for Decker. After Nora, the notion of cleaving to one woman made him bilious. He would sooner dip his prick in a pot of hot tar.
Since he was deuced fond of his prick, that was not about to happen.
“Marriage with the wrong woman is hell on earth,” Sin agreed, taking a sip of his brandy. “But marriage with the right woman is—”
“Spare me the gory details, will you?” he interrupted.
Little wonder he had drifted into his own musings. What was it about a happily married man that made him think all his friends needed to shackle themselves as well? Thank God Nora had revealed herself for what and who she truly was and jilted him. She had done him a favor.
“I was going to say paradise,” Sin groused. “Mark my words, Decker. The day will come for you.”
Decker grimaced. “When I allow a woman to lead me around by the ballocks? No bloody thank you.”
“Here now.” Sin frowned. “My wife does not lead me around by the ballocks.”
“You hosted a ball,” he pointed out.
“I wanted an excuse to dance with my beautiful countess,” Sin countered.
“You have only been to the club once since you married,” Decker added.
He owned the Black Souls Club, but it had long been one of their mutual haunts.
