Page 22 of Once a Scoundrel

The mallet struck the grass a foot from the ball. A large divot flew high into the air.

She gaped at him. Ignoring the shocked expression on her face, Stephen gazed down at the trench she’d carved in the lawn.

“Seems your aim’s a bit off,” he mused.

Her mouth slammed shut, and her hands clenched around the mallet handle. He dropped his ball onto the grass next to hers and took the mallet from her, ostensibly to hit his ball but more than likely to keep her from swinging it at his head.

“But keep practicing,” he assured her as he took aim, then expertly sent the ball rolling down the green and straight toward the iron ring at the far end. “After all, practice makes perfect.”

Wordlessly, she crossed her arms and glared at him, afraid if she spoke she’d certainly say something she regretted. But there was a world of accusation in the stare she leveled on him, and the rascal deserved every cutting bit of it.

“I have no interest in Lady Rathbourne,” he assured her, all the teasing gone from him. “Not at this party.” He straightened, and his gaze locked onto hers. “Not ever.”

She caught her breath at the subtle promise in his words. Had he truly changed, and changed so much that even women like Viscountess Rathbourne no longer tempted him? His blue eyes shined as he held the mallet out to her as if in a peace offering.

“Then someone should tell Lady Rathbourne,” Faith mumbled as she took the mallet from him.

He cast a dismissing glance in the viscountess’s direction. “I think she’ll get the message soon enough. Besides—” His gaze returned to her. “I’d rather spend time with you.”

A happy warmth swelled inside her. Ignoring the nervous butterflies dancing in her belly, she turned away to swing at her ball. “So you keep saying.”

“You don’t believe me?”

She watched her ball go bouncing down the alley, outpacing his by at least half a dozen yards. “No.”

She followed after. Stephen fell into step beside her.

She rolled her eyes. Apparently, he was determined to shadow her all afternoon. What his real reason was, though, she had no idea. But it couldn’t have been because he wanted to spend time with her. Not this trouble-maker.

“I’ve been thinking,” she ventured quietly, daring to change topics and knowing she was dangerously close to overstepping. “About Mary Halstead and her son...and all the rumors about you two.”

“Oh?” He stiffened, but at least he didn’t tell her to mind her own business.

So she nodded and hurried on. “A mistress is certainly nothing new, but the gossips are stirred up because she’s residing at Elmhurst Park.” She added after a pause, “With you. Which makes the situation seem more scandalous than it really is.”

“She’s only staying until the end of the month,” he assured her.

“Where will she go then?”

“To one of my other properties, one far enough away that the rumors will stop.”

She shook her head. He’d forgotten exactly how cruel people in society could be to each other if he believed that was all it would take to end the rumors. “They won’t. The gossips will simply think you’ve had a spat and sent her away, that you’ll accept her back at Elmhurst as soon as you want to...seeher again.”

His lips twitched in amusement at her attempt to keep the conversation wholly proper, even though they were discussing rumors about mistresses. “So what do you suggest?”

He took the mallet from her and lined up to take his swing.

“That you find a wife.”

He jerked his head up to stare at her just as the mallet hit his ball. It rolled forward, coming to rest against hers. Then he blinked, staring at her as if she’d just vowed to assassinate the queen.

“I think that’s a fine idea,” he murmured, oddly breathless.

She blew out an aggravated sigh. Leave it to Stephen to tease about this. “I’m serious. If you only send Mrs. Halstead away, no one will believe you’ve broken off with her. But if youalsomarry, then everyone will assume it’s truly ended because of your wife. You’ll be just another peer breaking off with his mistress upon marriage.” She looked away, unable to fathom the peculiar look he was giving her. “Besides, you said you wanted to be respectable. So it’s time you were married and produced an heir.”

“I think that’s averyfine idea,” he drawled huskily over her shoulder as he came up close behind her. Despite herself—and the topic of Stephen marrying someone else—she shivered at the heat she heard in his voice. “Well,attemptingto produce an heir, anyway. I’ve heard that practice makes perfect.”

She wheeled around to gape at him. A flush heated her cheeks at the thought of Stephen in bed, wrapped in sheets and practicing—Oh bother!