Page 70 of Cold November Rake

"I am not with her. And no, I do not—" He grimaced and corrected himself. "While I will admit it is stimulating to see two women kissing, that is not what I actively look for. And I have never shared a bed with Marie, nor with Marie and anyone else."

"Oh." She seemed, somehow, disappointed. "I thought that was why you chose her as your mistress."

"She is not my mistress."

"Yes, I understand." Temperance pressed her lips together. "She is more. You care for her. You would marry her, if it were not for me."

Sutton laughed.

"Is that not true?" she demanded.

He pursed his lips.

"It would have been a possibility, yes. But she would not marry me. She would not like the confines of being a countess. And a countess's job is to produce an heir, and that..." He grimaced. "That would be less than ideal for her."

"She does not wish to have children?"

"I do not know whether she wishes them or not." He let out a breath. "But I know that to have them she would need to lie with a man, and that would be torture for her."

"Pardon me?" She looked utterly confused, poor woman.

Sutton glanced around. Theatergoers passed them in droves, and the carriages on either side were filling with families of gossips.

"Let us sit inside," he said, opening the door. "Away from prying eyes."

She nodded, and they settled on the velvet seats of his carriage. He took a moment, then said it plainly.

"Marie is not drawn to men, Temperance. Romantically, or in any other way. Only women."

Temperance frowned. "I do not understand."

"The woman you saw with her tonight is her lover." He said it gently, as one might explain a difficult thing to a child. "They have been together for some time."

"But you..." She floundered. "And you? The three of you...?"

"No, not me. Just them. I've told you more than once that she is not my mistress."

"You said that, but when I asked whether you had ever lain with her, you did not say no."

"I didn't say yes, either."

"You implied it!"

"I did not. I have never lain with her."

"Did you ever kiss her?" she pressed. "Not like tonight, but a real kiss on the lips."

He twitched his nose.

"So you were intimate with each other?"

He ran a hand through his hair. It was time to be completely honest.

He thought of the despair he had sunk into after his failed trip to Norway, and of Tyrone pushing him to find a mistress. That night, he had gone to the opera, and Marie had been gracious enough to invite him into her suite.

"We shared a kiss once. I was in a vulnerable state. I believe I was drunk⁠—"

"You kissed her because you were drunk?"