Charlotte huffed. “Don’t pretend you have eyes only for me with a fiancée that looks like yours does.”
It was true, no one there could hold a candle to Brooke Whitworth. If he was going to plow through old mistresses and find new ones, it was going to be hard to explain why he might prefer anyone to his own wife.
For the moment he evaded with “It’s complicated, arranged, you might say.”
That made her laugh. “So you’re getting your final oats sowed before the wedding?”
Charlotte would apparently be willing to start up their affair again even though she had remarried. But he found himself choosing a different course. “Actually, I need a favor if you wouldn’t mind—and remember we parted amicably.”
She gave a good semblance of a pout. “I pretended. I was crushed.”
He managed not to laugh. “Is that why you married again so quickly?”
She grinned even as she waved a dismissive hand. “He’s incredibly rich. How could I not?”
“That you’re no longer a widow makes you off-limits, I’m afraid.”
“Mustyou have scruples?” She sighed. “Fine, what favor can I do for you, darling?”
“Slap me and look angry when you do it.” She laughed instead, forcing him to add, “Please.”
“You’re serious? But whatever for?”
“As I said, complicated. But consider, if you really were crushed when we parted, then it’s long overdue, isn’t it?”
“When you put itthatway...” She cracked her palm across his cheek.
Chapter Forty-Eight
BROOKE NEVER DID GETan answer from her mother. Two of Harriet’s London friends had converged on them immediately for introductions and some sly prying questions. Brooke didn’t know them, didn’t want to know them, and certainly wasn’t going to explain how she came to be engaged to a man who’d tried to kill her brother. Harriet evaded explaining as well, though she managed not to be rude about it.
Then Dominic was back and leading Brooke back to the dance floor to finish the set that his previous partner had just walked off on. Brooke was bristling. She blamed it on her mother’s being there, not because Dominic had just propositioned that woman.
“I hope that hurt,” Brooke said without looking at him. It would be a fulminating glare if she did, and she didn’t want him to know she was bristling.
“Why?”
She groaned to herself, but she had a ready answer for him. “Because you failed, of course.”
“I expected you to be deep in conversation with your mother,” he replied nonchalantly. “So you weren’t supposed to see that.”
“Everyone probably saw it, or at least heard it. And my mother has too many friends here, so she barely said a word to me and certainly didn’t distract me from watching your progress—or lack thereof. At least she didn’t see it. Just what did you say to that woman to make her rebuff you so physically and so quickly?”
He shrugged offhandedly. “The obvious. It either works or it doesn’t.”
“How often do you get slapped?”
“Not often.”
She huffed. “I’m not going to get any new thoroughbreds this way. Maybe you should use a little more finesse, you know, dance with them a few times, get to know them a little if you don’t already know them.”
“I was merely humoring you, since she was your choice. Charlotte and I actually have history. In fact, a number of my ex-acquaintances are here tonight. But, discounting them, there are still a few women tonight that I haven’t met yet—if you want me to continue.”
She didn’t, but she couldn’t say that, so she forced herself to nod. He seemed not to care either way, yet the “bargain” had abruptly turned his nasty new suspicions to amusement the other night. It continued to distract him, too. And she’d rather have the amusement even if it was at her expense, at least until after the wedding. She definitely didn’t want him cold and forbidding on that night. She was still holding out hope that the nuptials would changesomethingbetween them. Think of the horses, she advised herself, think just of the horses.
He left her with her mother again before he went off to find another lady to dance with. Brooke stared daggers at his back as he walked away before she started kicking herself mentally. He’d just given her an out from that absurd bargain and she hadn’t taken it. What was wrong with her?! But eventually he would be unfaithful to her anyway, wouldn’t he? Because she’d failed to make him love her. So she had to stop getting so, so—furious about it.
“We can have a word now,” Harriet said. “Shall we step out onto the terrace for some privacy?”
