Lucien eyed him. “What were you doing in Vauxhall Gardens, anyway?”
The viscount ran a hand through his sandy hair. “My mother will be in London next week.”
“And?”
The viscount opened his mouth to reply, then hesitated and took a drink instead. “And everyone knows your opinion on this particular subject. I will not discuss it with you.”
Lucien frowned. “What subject?”
Robert shook his head. “No.”
This was becoming interesting. “I’ll wager you for it. We’ll cut the deck. If I have the high card, you tell me your little secret.”
“And if I win?”
“You can have Cooksey’s hundred quid.”
Lucien would never have taken the wager himself, but then he was a good six years older than young Robert, and carried a great many more secrets he had no wish for thetonto know. He barely had time to count to five before the viscount snatched the deck of cards from him and slammed it onto the table.
“I’ll go first,” Belton stated, and cut deeply into the deck. He looked at the card, then let out a breath and turned his wrist so Lucien could view it. “Nine of clubs.”
Robert replaced the cards onto the deck. Lifting an eyebrow, Lucien leaned forward and took the top card. Without looking, he flipped it onto the table.
“Jack of spades.” The viscount glared at him, then sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I should’ve saved myself the trouble and just given in.”
“You shouldn’t have taken the wager. Out with it.”
“Damn blast it,” Belton snarled. “All right. I’m thinking of marrying.”
For a long moment Lucien looked at him. “Why?”
“I am twenty-six. And…I’ve just been thinking about it. All right?”
“Familial obligation and all that,” Lucien supplied. No wonder Robert had been reluctant to discuss the subject with him. He, and theton, had long ago declared himself completely unmarriageable. Only the direst of circumstances had conspired to change that, and he had no intention of discussing his own musings about marriage with Robert Ellis. Not this evening, and not until he’d netted a female.
“Yes, familial obligation.” Robert eyed him like a cat sizing up a very large and very ferocious dog. “So? Don’t you have anything devastatingly insulting to say about it?”
Lucien sipped his port. “What are you looking for in a female?”
“Nothing you’ve been seen with. Don’t worry, Kilcairn, I can find someone without your assistance.”
“You mistake me. I’m merely curious as to what sort of female, in your opinion, would make an acceptable Viscountess of Belton.”
“You’re merely curious.”
“Yes.” Alexandra hadn’t appreciated the specifications he’d named to her, and she seemed fairly sensible for a female. Perhaps Robert had some better ones in mind.
“Well, I’m…I’m not really sure. I’ll know when I see her.”
“Don’t you have some general requirements?”
“General requirements,” Robert grumbled, glaring at him. “Of course I do. I want her to be attractive, and of good background and wealthy family, and reasonably intelligent.”
“Why intelligent?”
“You’re impossible!” the viscount burst out, startling the nearest patrons. “Marriage is a lifelong commitment.”
Another softheaded idealist. “Marriage is a business commitment.”
