“True,” Spencer nodded. “Passably pretty, quiet, elegant. Biddable but also able to hold her own as a marchioness.” The familiar words sounded somewhat ridiculous when recited thusly.
“Don’t forget she comes from a line that goes back nearly four hundred years,” Westerley said around the cigar in his mouth. One of the brands Chaswick, who was spending the evening at home with his wife, kept stocked at Knight house as needed.
“I know that’s alwaysmyhighest priority when I climb into bed.” Spencer laughed.
“Now, now, not everyone is willing to enter a love match.” Westerley defended Greys, although Greys suspected his friend was mocking him.
Westerley, Stone, and Blackheart all showed their cards. Greys had to glance at them twice, startled to realize that his were the worst of all. By his calculations, his cards had put the odds in his favor.
Only. All he’d had was a full house. What the devil had he been thinking?
He scowled as he watched Stone’s hands, more than a little beat up from boxing, scoop up the pot.
“Getting some sparring in, I see.” Greys would change the subject.
“A little. However, I’ve had to try out a few new partners since Mantis took off for the country. Dashed inconvenient sod.” But they all frowned at what their friend had endured before he’d left town. “That was a match I never saw coming.”
“A love match,” Westerly added. “I, for one, am relieved for it.”
“I’ve no doubt of that,” Greys said. Because Westerley had jilted Lady Felicity, now Lady Crestwood, earlier that year. So, of course, the man would be pleased to know she was happily settled. “But enough romantic drivel. What is this, a knitting party?”
The other three men at the table chuckled.
“Feeling left out?” Spencer leaned back, lighting his cigar. “You seem to be rather taken with one of the Miss Joneses in the pool yesterday.”
Dash it all.
Greys refused to be goaded. “Chaswick’s sisters are lovely young ladies.”
“Particularly the younger one?”
Greys would stay as close to the facts as possible. Because these gentlemen had known him for a very long time and dissembling amongst them wasn’t an easy feat.
Not that they were inclined to judge one another, but these fellows could be ruthless when the situation merited it.
“I’m performing a favor for Chaswick—help her to feel welcome in the ton. Diana was feeling rather neglected. So I figured it might help if someone pretends to be taking an interest in her.” Guilt pricked Greys at disclosing he and Diana’s scheme even though he could trust these men not to blab it around theTon
But he was no longer pretending, was he?
“Diana, is it?” Spencer shot Greys an incredulous glance.
“Best not to make it too believable.” Westerley offered. The earl grimaced at his cards, tossed a chip into the pot, and then made a cracking sound with one of his knuckles. Which meant the man’s cards were shite.
Greys studied his own hand, mentally calculating their worth. At the same time, he wondered why Westerley’s opinion irritated him.
“Lord and Lady Huntly cannot be all that pleased at your charade,” Westerley added.
“Nothing has been made official on that front,” Greys said as he upped the ante.
“It didn’t look like you were merely pretending to be interested yesterday,” Spencer tossed in his chips. Without Mantis present to point out the obvious, it seemed Spencer would do that instead.
“Isn’t that the general idea?” Greys leaned back in his chair as though the topic already bored him.
“Not when there aren’t any other gentlemen to provoke by doing so.” Spencer insisted.
Greys chose not to comment on that. He could argue that the feigned affection was a matter of fulfilling his promise. But protesting would only draw further attention to something he’d rather not discuss.
Because thanks to the promise he’d made to Diana, he couldn’t divulge that his intentions had changed.
