“Mother couldn’t afford to buy me a commission, Julian. I know it was you.”
“What else is one to do when one is a veritable Croesus?” Julian shrugged. “I never expected to inherit a fortune from my dearly departed godmother—God bless her eccentric little heart.”
“The Walcott family still hate your guts for that.” Anton topped up his glass. “Percival absolutely radiates with fury every time your name is mentioned.”
“Percival should have spent less time mocking his great-aunt and more time listening to her incredibly outrageous stories about the court fifty years ago. I learned a lot and gained a whole new level of disdain for the aristocracy who rule us.”
“Of which you are now one,” Anton pointed out.
“I have no title,” Julian returned. “Only ‘the honorable’ from our father, as I’m the second son.”
“Poor Aragon might have Father’s title, but he has only a tenth of your wealth.”
“Which is why our mother cordially dislikes me.” Julian smiled at his younger brother. “And Aragon constantly asks to borrow money.”
He would miss Anton’s breezy presence in more ways than one. Not only had Anton provided their mother with someone to dote on, but he’d been a jovial barrier between his two older brothers. With no Anton to joke with, how would he and Aragon negotiate their somewhat delicate relationship?
“Excuse me, sir.”
He sat back to allow the waiter to set his plate in front of him.
Anton picked up his knife. “The beef looks excellent, as always.”
“Indeed.”
Another burst of noise filtered in from the crowded lobby as one of the diners exited.
“What’s this nonsense about a bet?” Julian asked, watching Anton begin to eat his dinner with remarkable speed.
“The mysterious lady?” Anton chuckled. “If I were staying in London, I wouldn’t mind having a pop at that.”
“Pop at what exactly?”
“You haven’t heard? Apparently, a lady put an advertisement in one of the newspapers asking for applications for a lover with a very specific set of requirements.”
“One has to doubt a lady would stoop to such behavior,” Julian remarked. “And wonder why the gentlemen in the hallway care so much.”
“I suspect it has something to do with the frankness of the advertisement.” Anton waved down a waiter. “Can you provide me with a copy of today’sTimes?”
“Of course, Captain.”
Within two minutes, the man was back with a well-ironed copy of the newspaper.
“Thank you.” Anton looked over at his brother. “Excuse me for a moment while I locate the specific advertisement.”
Julian continued to eat his dinner as his brother went through the long list of personal columns.
“Ah! Here it is.” Anton cleared his throat. “‘Titled lady seeks experienced, unmarried rake for afternoon dalliance. Please reply to this advertisement with precise measurements including height, age, length of male member, and current financial statements. Interviews will be conducted before the end of the month.’”
“Good Lord,” Julian said.
Anton refolded the paper and grinned at him. “I know. It must be a joke. Someone wants to see who’ll take the bait and will record the names of all these fools being interviewed by some madam and publish them to much ridicule.”
“That sounds highly likely.”
“I mean, if a lady wants a lover, there are better ways to find one.”
“Through her husband, perhaps?”
