Page 18 of Tempting Her Viscount

Chapter Eight

The next evening Kit found Gray at White’s nursing a glass of brandy.

“How many have you had? You’re looking rather rough, friend.”

Gray sniffed. “This is the first one,” he answered in a raw voice that made Kit cringe. Kit had sounded the same way for the last week, but was finally better this morning when he’d woke. His thoughts caught on what had happened the night before.

When he’d been with Selene.

Memories of her skittered through his mind randomly. He’d even dreamed of her. Though in his dreams she’d started out as Selene and had transformed into Celia.

He shook thoughts of both women away to focus on his ill friend.

“I take it you didn’t attend the masquerade last night?”

“No. And I would have stayed to my bed tonight as well, if not for my need to get away from Celia and her hovering.”

Kit stifled a laugh knowing Gray was the worst kind of patient when he was ill. Kit doubted very much Celia was hovering as much as trying to get away from Gray’s insidious requests.

It was yet another thing about siblings that baffled Kit. The desire to help the other person while also acting as if it was a huge burden. He didn’t understand the bond of family, having gone so long without his. He’d been too young to pay attention to the way his parents had looked at one another. But he wanted that kind of happiness. He wanted someone to care for, and someone to care for him.

“I’ve already heard from a few chaps who were at Harrington’s last night. It appears we both missed a lively evening. However, for you, it was your final chance to attend one of Lady Harrington’s parties. You’ll have to be satisfied with my accounts going forward.” Gray laughed but it turned into a hacking cough.

For a brief moment, Kit considered not telling Gray he’d attended, and an even longer moment to decide if he wanted to mention Selene. In the end, he decided his friend might be able to help him.

If not to find the woman, then at least to help him forget her. For it was clear he regretted having no way to find her and he already missed her. He shook his head at his fanciful thoughts. How could he miss someone he barely even knew?

“Actually, I did attend,” he found himself saying before actually deciding to do so.

Gray’s watery eyes widened. “You did? Without me?”

“I thought I’d meet you there. I didn’t realize you were ill until I arrived here and saw what a mess you are.” He frowned as Gray blew his nose loudly. “I thought, perhaps, you’d already been pulled away to one of the private rooms yourself.”

Gray cocked his head and Kit could feel the other man studying him.

“Christopher Ethan Anthony Sinclair! Were you pulled away to a private room last night?” The man’s smirk might have been more intimidating if it weren’t followed up by a sneeze.

Only Gray and Celia knew all his names. Most days, he wished it were only Celia.

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I was.”

“And who, pray, were you enlisted to serve?” If anyone ever needed the definition of a roguish grin, they need only look at Graham Percival Alexander Dorsett at that moment.

“I’m not certain. She gave only her first name. She was lovely and we had an engaging evening. I asked her full name so I might find her again, but she refused. I thought I was content with her decision, but I find myself wishing I could see her again.”

Gray nodded. “Then we shall find her. There are not so many ladies in London.”

“She is French.”

“Even better. It narrows it down immensely. I daresay you’ll be calling on her with a handful of posies by tomorrow at visiting hours. What is her name?”

“Lady Selene.”

Gray blinked. “Selene?”

“Yes. Do you know her?”

“I must know ten Selenes at least that are French or pretending to be French. None of them ladies, however. Most of them—”