“Of course you have. Anything else?”
“Are you making a list, my lord? Very well, then. If you must know, I believe I’ve bent my stays.”
Finn’s gaze snapped to her bodice, and once it was there, it took all his concentration to tear it away. He cleared his throat. “Races are one way to spend an afternoon, I suppose.”
“Yes, and rather an enjoyable one, as it turns out. Bowls grow dull after a while, but one can’t say the same of racing.”
“One can’t say the same of Lord Wrexley, either. He’s rather exciting from beginning to end, isn’t he?”
She shrugged. “He’s great fun, yes.”
Some of the tension in Finn’s jaw eased. A lady didn’t refer to a gentleman she was enamored with as “great fun.” Miss Somerset wasn’t in love with Lord Wrexley. Not yet, at least. As long as she remained indifferent to him she was in less danger, but Wrexley’s charm was insidious. He’d turned more than one young lady’s head, with disastrous results. By the time Miss Somerset realized he was manipulating her, it would be too late.
“But you knew it wasn’t a proper activity—no, don’t bother to deny it, Miss Somerset. I can see by your blush you did know it.”
To Finn’s surprise, a grin drifted over her lips. “Yes, I knew it, but proper things are never great fun, are they? When was the last time you ran a race, Lord Huntington? I daresay a bit of impropriety would do you a world of good.”
He frowned, taken aback by the question. “I don’t recall.” Had he ever run a race? Surely he must have, when he was much younger, but if he had, he didn’t remember it. “I’m not sure I ever have.”
“You’ve never run a race?Ever?” She stared at him for a moment, as if she didn’t know what to make of him, then she reached out her hand and rested it on his arm in an almost comforting gesture. “That’s not…well, perhaps marquesses don’t run races.”
“Some do, I think. Just not me.” Finn shrugged, but every nerve in his body strained toward the place where she touched him, his gaze fixed on her slender white fingers curled into his coat.
“You still could, you know.” She swept her hand from his head to his boots. “You’d have to remove your coat, and loosen your cravat. Not quite the thing for such a proper gentleman, I suppose.”
Finn blinked at her, puzzled. Was she teasing him? No oneeverteased him. “Or a proper lady.”
“Come now, my lord. It’s not as if I raced down Rotten Row during the fashionable hour. This is a house party in the country, not Hyde Park. Thetonwill never know I ran across a bowling green, or that Lord Wrexley saw my ankles. My reputation isn’t in danger here.”
“You’re wrong.” As clever as she was, she was also as naïve as every other young lady of her limited experience, and Wrexley knew it well. “Don’t think for a moment because Lord Wrexley encouraged you to race he’ll hesitate to gossip to thetonabout it.”
She shrugged off the warning. “I don’t believe he would, but even if he did, what’s he to tell them? That I took off my slippers, and tore my hems? It seems a paltry thing to gossip about.”
“Slippers, yes, but what if he gossiped about how you ran to him?” Finn’s frown deepened to a scowl as he thought of the way she’d leapt into Wrexley’s arms.
“He wouldn’t do such a thing.”
“Yes, he would, Miss Somerset. If he thought he could gain something by it, he’d do it without a second thought. He intentionally led you into an impropriety today because he believes he has something to gain from it. He has designs on you, and he wants you vulnerable.”
“Designs on me?” She let out a short laugh. “That sounds quite ominous. I know you and Lord Wrexley don’t care much for each other, Lord Huntington, but he’s not the rake you make him out to be, any more than you’re the perfect gentleman you pretend to be.”
Finn’s breath left his lungs in a painful rush. It was true, and yet her words wounded him far more than he would have thought possible. “You’re referring to the wager?”
“Yes. It was a dishonorable thing to do. I hope you’re not going to try and persuade me otherwise.”
“No. It was despicable, and I regret it extremely.” He paused, then said, “Do you suppose Lord Wrexley regrets it, as well?”
She stared at him, her eyes going wide as his meaning sank in. “Lord Wrexley? He—”
“He was there that night. He wagered on you, but he lost you to me. He tried to persuade me to wager for you a second time, but I declined him. If the wager is sufficient reason for you to jilt me, then it’s sufficient reason for you to discourage Lord Wrexley.”
“I—the wager wasn’t the only reason I jilted you.”
She was fighting to hold onto her composure, but Finn could see he’d shaken her, and he ran a rough hand through his hair. If he had even a drop of Wrexley’s charm he’d know how to speak softly to her, to persuade her, but he’d never known how to shatter the hard, impenetrable shell that separated him from other people, and he didn’t know now. He only knew it couldn’t be done in one conversation.
Perhaps not even in one lifetime.
But he tried. He drew in a deep breath and spoke as gently as he could. “When I left to walk in the garden, you and Lord Wrexley were playing bowls. How did you end up running races with him?”
