“I—”
Heathcliff cut off his friend’s words. “No, if you lie, then lie to yourself. You are the only person in this room who will believe it.”
“Aptly spoken.” Lucas sighed.
“Besides, why are you complaining? You get to ruin a very beautiful, willing, and eager woman. One who stirs your blood and engages your mind—and yet you complain?” Heathcliff arched a dark brow.
“The scandal—”
“You’re starting to sound like Ramsey,” Heathcliff remarked with irritation.
“Am not,” Lucas bit out, offended, then his emotions shifted to shame as he realized the accuracy of his friend’s statement. “Damn and blast. This,this, is why I’m regretting this decision! Because it is creating an environment in which I have no control.”
“Ah.” Heathcliff nodded once, then refilled his glass of brandy. The sound of the liquid splashing in the crystal glass was obnoxiously loud to Lucas’s already frayed nerves.
“Is that all the insight you have to give?” Lucas asked.
Heathcliff sipped his brandy in response, then hitched a shoulder. “Perhaps. Rather, I have a different question. How are you supposed to ruin Lady Liliah when you are here”—he gestured to the grand office—“and she is cloistered in luxury in her father’s residence in Mayfair?”
Lucas’s lips bent into a grin, his body relaxing as he considered the challenge. “Details.” He hitched a shoulder. “Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past the minx to waltz into the club once more, or somewhere just as improper. It’s almost as if she views her predicament as if she has nothing to lose.” He muttered the last words to himself.
“One can never comprehend the logic of a female.” Heathcliff raised his glass in a salute.
Lucas nodded in agreement.
“But that still doesn’t answer my question,” Heathcliff remarked after a moment.
Lucas frowned. “The first step is attending another blasted party.”
“I suppose there are worse things. It did seem to attract an uncommon amount of attention—this will only be good for business, you know.”
“True,” Lucas agreed, “as much as I loathe admitting it.”
“What is your timeline?” Heathcliff asked, setting down his empty glass on the sideboard. He leaned his shoulder against the wall and regarded Lucas.
Lucas’s brow pinched. “This isn’t courting. Thank heavens. I expect to take care of the situation within a week.”
“Situation?Is that we are calling seduction?”
“This isn’t seduction. This is sex. Not lovemaking, not anything romantic. This is—is ruination.”
“How in heaven’s name you took something as delightful as sex and turned it cold, I’ll have no idea. Do try to at least enjoy yourself.” Heathcliff rolled his eyes.
“I doubt that will be an issue.” Of all the concerns he had with the arrangement, lack of enjoyment was the least.
“Then at least make it good for her. You know it is the gentlemanly thing to do,” Heathcliff responded with a chuckle.
“Ah, and here I thought ruining an innocent wasn’t exactly a gentlemanly act. Odd.” Lucas arched a brow.
“You know what I mean.” Heathcliff raised a hand dismissively. “You do remember how to please a woman, don’t you?”
Lucas narrowed his eyes. “Some skills don’t require practice.”
“You would know,” Heathcliff shot back, grinning unrepentantly. “Who would have thought the mastermind behind a gentleman’s pleasure club would be a self-denying monk?”
Lucas rolled his eyes. “I’m not nearly as holy. And I’m quite certain that my lifestyle wouldn’t be considered religious.”
“That’s vastly accurate; however, it does beg the question . . .” Heathcliff took a step toward Lucas, his gaze sharpening to the point where Lucas began to feel uncomfortable.
