That woman, who sat her horse badly and was presently wrestling a tiny kitten who might be winning, was inspiration. Last night, at the piano… He hadn’t felt that inspired in years.
And the kiss…
It had inspired, too.
His gaze settled on her mouth. It couldn’t help itself.
He shouldn’t kiss that mouth again.
Truly, what had he been thinking?
It wasn’t that he didn’t kiss women. He’d, in fact, kissed quite a few.
But he didn’t kiss virtuous women.
Not women like Valentina.
Right.
“Nestor, I believe you’re acquainted with Lord Kilmuir?”
Nestor nodded, curt. Rory gave the same back. Archie cleared his throat. Now was the time for Rory to speak his line. The one that would light a fire beneath Nestor.
Rory snapped to. “The Arabian,” burst from him. “Is it here?”
He might rival Valentina with his acting skills.
Nestor sat taller in his saddle. “What is this?”
“I don’t really see the harm in cutting Kilmuir in,” said Archie easily.
Nestor shook his head. He wasn’t having it. “Just you and me, Archer. No Kilmuir.”
Archie lifted his hands in a gesture of helplessness, and Rory’s chest puffed out in indignation. “What fresh perfidy isthis?” he bellowed.
Archie had to keep from rolling his eyes. Delilah and Juliet were stifling snickers behind him. But, really, Rory was laying it on a bit thick. Nestor didn’t seem to notice. “There’s only room for two investors in this deal, Kilmuir. Find yourself another horse.”
Archie shrugged, as if helpless. “You heard the man.”
Rory lifted a hand into the air and shouted, “This shall not be the last ye’ve heard of me!” And he charged away on his mount.
Archie resisted the urge to clap for his friend’s performance. But truly, when one involved a man’s ego, what swindles couldn’t be perpetrated? Had he not been born a lord, he’d have enjoyed a satisfying career in the hustling of aristocrats.
“Tomorrow night,” said Archie. It was time to bring the meeting to a conclusion. He’d gotten what he wanted out of it.
“What is tomorrow night?” asked Nestor. He’d begun watching Valentina carefully. Too carefully.
“You’ll have your answer at my sister Amelia’s musicale tomorrow night.” An invitation to the Duke and Duchess of Ripon’s soirée was one of the most highly sought-after invitations in Town.
And Archie knew Nestor wouldn’t have received one.
Nestor cleared his throat, embarrassed. “I’m afraid I shall not be attending.”
Archie waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, your invitation must’ve been lost in the post. I’ll have my sister send another by messenger today.”
Archie sensed a subtle puffing of the other man’s chest. He’d just given Nestor what he truly wanted—a road back into the top tier of society after all the scandals of his family.
Archie hoped Nestor enjoyed the trip. It would be a short one.
