A wide grin lit up the Scotsman face. “I win.”
It was hard to argue with that, although Summerset tried. Max found Summerset’s knife and plucked it up. He handed it to his friend. “Concede defeat. I’d say obliterating the knot counts as getting closest.” He turned to Dunkeld. “I’ll send over a bank draft when I get home.”
Summerset grumbled but nodded. With two fingers, he plucked his lime-green handkerchief from his pocket and waved it at Max. “There’s a trough of water for the horses over there. You might want to clean yourself up a bit so you don’t resemble one.”
Rothchild snorted. “I always thought he more resembled a bear. Now one that’s rolled around in the muck.”
A rumble built in Max’s chest, but he smothered it. With a glare at the arseholes who were supposed to be his friends, he brushed out his beard, dirt sprinkling down. Taking his blade, he angled it, trying to catch his reflection. “The beard isn’t that bad. Is it?”
Montague coughed discreetly into his fist. “It’s a unique look. Makes you stand out in the House of Lords.”
“So, you think I should shave?”
“Absolutely,” Summerset said.
“I didn’t want to say anything,” Rothchild demurred.
“About damn time.” Dunkeld picked up his axe. He tossed it into the air, let it revolve once, and grabbed the handle. “Your face is as unfashionable as a bit of Haymarket ware at Buckingham Palace.”
“You’re one to bloody talk!” Fisting his hands, Max glared at the Scot. “No one has had hair that long since Louis Fourteen.”
“We’ll worry about Dun next,” Summerset said.
Damn and blast. First Colleen, now his friends. He tunneled his fingers into the bush and rubbed his jaw. He liked it when Colleen tugged on his beard, drawing his head down for a kiss. But perhaps a clean cheek would be best. He pursed his lips. Since Colleen didn’t seem to want to see his face right now, perhaps a new one would soften her.
Decision made. “I’m shaving it off.”
“Excellent.” Summerset tucked his handkerchief away and clapped his hands together. “Now, my man will not only give you a clean shave but can do something with the rest of your hair, as well.”
Max eyed the earl’s perfect coif, with two locks artfully coiled at his brow. As pretty as a woman’s. “No, thank you.”
Dunkeld slapped the flat end of the axe-blade into his palm. “Don’t need a valet. I’d be more than happy to take care of it for you myself.”
Not liking the glint in the Scotsman eye, Max took a wary step back. “Thanks, Dun. But I’ve got it covered.”
“Nonsense,” Montague said. All four men advanced on him. “You can always count on your closest friends to get the job done right.”
Bloody hell. Max stepped back, stumbling over a broken wheel discarded in the weeds. His friends saw their advantage and made their move. Max spun on his heel and ran as if his life depended upon it.
Like dogs chasing after a fox, the sots efficiently hunted him down. Their laughter drowned out his fruitless curses.
***
“It was a clear question.” Colleen rocked back in her chair and laced her fingers across her stomach. She pinned Molly with a stern stare. “Did you lock Suzy in the necessary and take her standing appointment with Mr. Harper?”
Of all the problems with being the manager for a Venus club, suffering from boredom wasn’t one of them. In the last three hours Colleen had fired her wine dealer, freed a couple from the ropes they’d tangled themselves in, and stopped Suzy from tearing out Molly’s hair.
She’d been busy putting out fires. Fingering the chain to her pocket watch, Colleen’s shoulders sagged. But not busy enough to help her forget the words between her and Max. The anger in his eyes.
“There isn’t a lock on the outside of the door to the necessary.” Turning in the chair, Molly draped one leg over the chair’s armrest, swinging her foot.
“No, but the mop stick through the door’s handle did the trick.”
Molly looked unperturbed. Stretching her arms up, the girl arched her back. Colleen dropped her gaze from the high, pert breasts pressing through the thin layers of white silk net. She eyed her own breasts. Sturdy. Drooping a bit. Average. And, for a short time, functional. Max hadn’t seemed to mind her more used version, but with all the fetching options around here, he was sure to turn elsewhere.
As she wanted him to, Colleen reminded herself. Pushing him away last night by feigning interest in other men had seemed easiest. Easier than admitting to her guilt and seeing the disgust in his eyes. Easier than letting herself indulge in fantasies of a future life between them that could never be. No, it was better to end this now before they grew even closer.
His feelings for her had deepened. He’d revealed that as he’d thundered at her for going to St. Katherine’s without him; shown it through the fear in his eyes, the desperate press of his fingers into her skin. And her feelings … She sighed. Well, their relationship would have to come to an end, and the more intimate they became, the harder it would be. Max deserved better than her.
