Page 77 of The Forsaken
“I don’t see any wicked widow around.” Greyhold touched the stone rail and looked out. “What was it my brother was saying when we came outside, Culross?”
Every mention of his scandalous conquests eroded whatever support he hoped to win from Culross.
“I believe a name that began with ‘An’…”
Kerr tensed.
Greyhold turned to Culross. “Lady Annalee, maybe? We should find the fountain as I heard—”
“The lady was at Peterloo,” Kerr said. “And is still suffering the effects, you lout.”
That shut them up. Good. If they continued their game of ‘An’ starting names, they would eventually settle on the one.
They were undeterred.
“Possibly, Lady Angela?” Greyhold ventured. “I recall only the Duke of Talbert’s sister. Is there a married or widowed one?”
Kerr did the only thing a respectable privateer would do—he sacrificed his brother. “Have your eye on Lady Angela, do you?”
“Me with a spinster lady or any respectable lady for that matter?” his enormous brother snorted. “I’d no sooner be caught with a proper miss than you, big—”
Heat hit Kerr’s face.
“Some starry-eyed virgin would never make it ten yards from either of you gentlemen; especially not Kerr,” said Culross.
But one starry-eyed virgin had, and Culross bore the blame.
The earl dropped Andromena right into Kerr’s life without any thought for how a clever, feisty siren would tempt a reckless man like him.
Kerr hadn’t braced for the other ways she made him feel, far beyond mere lust.
He took a deep draw.
Had male ribbing always been this tiresome?
Time to bring this to a close. “I am sorry to disappoint, gentlemen,” he said after he exhaled his smoke. “I was out here having a drink.” Kerr tapped the grey ash from his cigarillo onto the stone. “As in, another drink. I had a servant bringing them to me until you arrived.”
Culross didn’t budge. “My wife had a different theory…”
Greyhold groaned. “You let your wife in on the wager?”
Culross smiled. “We share everything.”
We share everything…
Kerr had a bond with Andromena, a secret kept from the world and-until now-even from himself. She held nothing back and spoke her mind. They shared everything. A smile touched his face.
Culross killed it with his next breath.
“The countess noted that Kerr hadn’t made time for gambling or women since he began working for her uncle.”
An army of house and bush crickets chittered their consensus.
Even Beethoven and Wellington in a crowded room wouldn’t have failed to hear the veiled innuendo there.
He’d had enough. “My life isn’t a bloody game for you to wager on!”
They drew back.
