How the Scoundrel Seduces by Sabrina Jeffries

marry, either,” he went on, tired of Dom’s poking at him. Time to go on the offensive. “Even though Jane Vernon has been waiting fruitlessly for you all these years.”
    The temperature in the room instantly dropped. The minute Dom clenched his jaw hard enough to shatter teeth, Tristan regretted baiting him. But he did want to know why his idiot brother remained stubborn about the woman he’d been engaged to thirteen years ago. It was clear to everyone on God’s green earth that his former fiancée would still marry him if Dom would only renew his offer.
    “Leave Jane out of this,” Dom snapped. “Lady Zoe is our client, and I deserve to know whether you can handle her properly.”
    “Trust me, I can handle Lady Zoe perfectly well.” Properly, improperly, and every way in between. Aslong as she didn’t get too close. “I can certainly handle her better than you handled Jane.”
    “Damn it, Tristan—”
    “I suppose you’ve heard that she’s engaged to the Earl of Blakeborough.”
    Judging from the warning glitter in Dom’s eyes, he had indeed heard. “I don’t want to talk about Jane.”
    “Right. Because God forbid you’d admit that you shouldn’t have let her go after George threw us all out.”
    “I didn’t let her . . . Blast it, this is none of your affair!” Shoving away from the desk, he headed for the door. “I wish you and Lisette would stop plaguing me about Jane. You don’t know the situation.”
    “We would if you told us.”
    Dom glared at him. “Go to hell.” Then he headed out the door.
    Tristan stared after him, sipping his brandy. Getting Dom to leave him be afforded him little satisfaction. Dom still clearly had feelings for Jane, but that wouldn’t do him a bit of good if Jane meant to marry some other fellow.
    Perhaps it was Jane’s connection to George that put Dom off. As the cousin of George’s wife, Jane spent a great deal of time with the arse. It might have changed her. George might even have convinced Jane to see matters from his side—though if he had, Dom was better off without her.
    Tristan set his glass down. That gave him just one more reason to find out George’s dirty secrets. Because he had no doubt that George was at the root of whyJane had jilted Dom. And Tristan would make the bloody devil pay for that, too.
    He glanced out the window. It wasn’t dark yet, and the mail coach didn’t leave London for Liverpool until 7:00 P.M. If he traveled tonight he could be in the Customs offices first thing in the morning, which might shorten his trip.
    Good. Because the sooner he found out the truth about Lady Zoe’s birth, the sooner he could either move on to the next phase of his investigation . . . or be free to pursue his other leads.
    Either way, he would figure out how to hoist George by his own petard.

5

    T HREE DAYS AFTER her visit to Manton’s Investigations, Zoe paced the drawing room of her family’s town house, which spanned most of one end of Berkeley Square. Aunt Flo sat perfectly straight on the only halfway comfortable chair available, awaiting Mr. Jeremy Keane with complete composure.
    Meanwhile, Zoe was a bundle of nerves. After landing in Liverpool, her cousin had sent a note ahead that he’d be arriving sometime midafternoon. It was already well past noon, so he should be here any moment. Two days early, thanks to favorable winds.
    Botheration. Mr. Bonnaud was almost certainly still in Liverpool himself.
    His voice sounded in her head. After what we just did, you can damned well call me by my Christian name in private.
    Her cheeks heated. She refused to think of that scoundrel as Tristan . . . except at night, when relivingtheir foolish, impulsive, intoxicating kisses. He shouldn’t have kissed her.
    She shouldn’t have let him. Because now she thought of it all the time. Which was ridiculous. And annoying. Truly, men as smooth-tongued and handsome as Mr. Tristan Bonnaud shouldn’t even be allowed out in public until they