He pressed a secret smile into her hair.“I never play at all unless I’m certain of winning.”
“That’s not very sportsmanlike.”
“I don’t care about sportsmanship.I like to win.”
Her heart was beating very fast under his wrist, her pulse visible at the base of her throat.“Everyone likes to win.That doesn’t make you special.”
“Ah, but how far are you willing to go for victory?That is what has set me apart since I was a very young man.”
“Because you go too far,” she said, her lips barely moving.He could see the flutter of her lashes, feel the quick heave of her breath.
“There’s no such thing,” he purred, just as the retired naval officer lost his eighth roll, inciting howling pandemonium among the crowd.Money changed hands between those who’d placed side bets on the outcome, and one drunkard who’d clearly gotten carried away began to tear at his hair and clothes in despair at the amount he owed.
“I need to find the ladies’ retiring room.”Lucy had to shout to be heard, pulling away from him.
Thorne let her go with reluctance.“Where do you think we are?A Mayfair ballroom?There is no ladies’ retiring room, because there are no ladies.”
“I’ve seen one or two,” Lucy protested, scanning the room for a moment before her eyes lit up with recognition.“There!Sitting with Lord What’s-His-Name, drinking champagne.”
Following her gaze to the sultry, expensively dressed redhead batting her eyes at Lord Offaley, Thorne tucked his tongue into his cheek.“That is Mrs.Forrest.”
Lucy’s eyes widened.“The famed courtesan!So that is what she really looks like.The broadsheets do not do her justice.”
“You comprehend their difficulty; it would be difficult to render a figure like hers in pen and ink without having it look impossibly overexaggerated.”
“How gorgeous she is,” Lucy said with an odd note in her tone.Admiring, but a touch wistful.Thorne wondered if she was comparing Susannah Forrest’s extravagant curves to her own slender form.
Thorne had always admired Mrs.Forrest, though he hadn’t bothered to throw his hat into the ring when she discreetly let it be known she was hunting for a new protector last winter.He didn’t care to jump through the hoops required by a sought-after courtesan deciding upon whom to bestow her favors.
But he liked Mrs.Forrest, who possessed a shrewd mind and a witty, engaging conversational style that only enhanced her extraordinary looks.Indeed, he’d always found her uncommonly attractive.
It disconcerted him to realize that he found Lady Lucy Lively infinitely more appealing.
“Yes, she is,” he agreed shortly.“And Lord Offaley has gone to great lengths to secure her as his mistress.So she is definitely not a lady.”
“But surely she still needs to use the necessary upon occasion,” Lucy argued, undaunted.“As must the other women here.Whatever their profession.”
Struck by the practicality of this, Thorne reflected.“I suppose you must be right, although I couldn’t say for certain.”
Lucy brightened.“Well, I shall find out!Surely Mrs.Forrest will be able to point me in the right direction.No, no, I’ll only be a moment!”
And with that, she had whisked away from him, intent on introducing herself the most infamous courtesan of the Season.
Thorne watched her go, her slim, upright figure marching determinedly across the card room, and felt…something.He hardly knew what.But he didn’t like it.
This was the next step in his campaign of seduction, he reminded himself.Another opportunity to rewrite her opinion of him.He would watch from a distance—though not too far—until Lucy was inevitably approached by some drunken lout or other, then Thorne would swoop in and save her.It was a simple plan.
Except when was anything to do with Lady Lucy Lively simple?
The spectators who’d thronged the hazard game began to disperse in a wave, and Thorne was shoved by a rowdy young baronet, who blanched and danced backward when Thorne turned a cold, imperious glare on him.
Satisfied, Thorne looked back to search the room for the distinctive blue-green gleam of Lucy’s gown…but she was gone.
Fury flooded Thorne’s veins, thick with something that felt horribly like fear.He’d taken his eyes off her for the barest instant and she’d disappeared.
Lucy was all alone.In this den of iniquity that was choked to the rafters with dissolute louts of every description.
He should know.He was the worst of them.
