Lady Lavinia wiggled inside. Her garnet-colored dress had a low plunging neckline. It screamed curvy and trouble, the kind of trouble he missed.
“Daniel, do you remember when you enjoyed my company?”
His thumb slid on the indentions of the brass key, some sharp, some worn with age. He’d been tempted by Lavinia, but that was fueled by jealousy.
“Daniel, you’ve gone quiet. You do remember us, how we were?”
Lady Lavinia was his first substantial affair of the heart, but a cub young in his law practice was not what the daughter of a marquess wanted. She had targets on the deeper pockets of peers.
He put away his key. “We’re both older and wiser. And never without caution.”
“You used to be such fun, scandalous fun, and now you’re a peer. We should celebrate with champagne and cherries.” She fingered his chest. “I heard your uncle fought to keep your elevation from happening. Did he die spitting?”
Yes. A full-throated vomit. “Just rumors. Go home.”
“I’ve rarely seen you finish a glass of wine. The late Earl of Ashbrook loved his porter. Your father too.”
Daniel moved to the rear of his desk, groaning. His father was a stew of all things, sad and disappointing. The man’s lack of control was a reminder for alcoholic abstinence. “I don’t need to overindulge to enjoy my evenings, Lavinia.”
Sitting on his desk, she spun and lifted her slipper onto his chair arm. “I’ve watched you, Daniel, saw your rise in the courts. Though you are one of Prinny’s favorites, you’ve worked twice as hard to become one of the Crown’s top barristers.”
This made him smile. The Prince Regent did claim favorites, Blackamoors of extreme talent like Bridgetower, the supreme violinist; Richmond, the prize pugilist; and Daniel, the Socratic mind. These were the prince’s successes.
“I hear you’re always working, my dear man. Such a waste to be so diligent and stifled and handsome.” She stood beside him. Her thumbs skirted his cravat and dipped into his shirt. “You know what they say about all work and no play, Daniel, darling.”
He kissed her hand and moved it to his chair. “I think that has implications for a man named Jack. I, on the other hand, possess a different name and different ethics. Work is my play.”
Slipping from the desk, she crouched beside him and slid her hand again to his coat. He doubted she hunted for lint.
“Daniel Thackery, the new Lord Ashbrook. Such a nice ring to it.”
“Lady Lavinia, please. You promised to leave after you saw my office. I have to be home soon for my daughter. I’m not interested in a social mistress.”
“Have you thought of taking a social wife, Daniel? A woman with connections could be of use. I could even help with the dull stuff, parties and such.”
He looked away and searched a drawer for his notes. One of Phoebe’s might be there. “Tomorrow’s trial will be exhausting.”
“I’m sorry. I forgot your heavy devotion to a woman you never met. Oh my, Daniel. You’re still in love with her?”
Perhaps.
How could he not be, reading her notes every night. Imagining the conversations, they would have about her . . . his daughter, Hope.
“Daniel, you look as if you’ve eaten a lemon.”
He pushed out the smile he saved for impotent judges. “Some charity, Lavinia. I’m sure you cared for at least one of your three husbands.”
“But I had each of my husbands. You have letters.”
That cut a little too close. “Lavinia, please leave.”
She rubbed at his shoulders, then set a whisper to his neck. “I’m teasing, Daniel. You’re always so serious, so careful. When does Daniel ever play?”
It was scandalous to be in this office, his work office, with a woman known for such.
Daniel walked to the door and opened it. “Mrs. Dunn and I met a thousand times in letters. I remember every jot, every spirited word. I think you’ve amused yourself enough at my expense. Good night.”
She sauntered over and slammed the door, then put her arms about his waist. “Words. You love them, but from what I recall, you do your best work in silence.”
