Lady Eve's Indiscretion by Grace Burrowes Page A

Evie.”
    There was something ironic in Westhaven’s comment, but not mean. Westhaven would never be mean to his siblings—probably not to anybody—but he could be quite stern and serious.
    He got up, crossed the room, and paused to kiss Eve’s forehead before he left for his appointment with the duke.
    A good man, a wonderful brother, and even a dear friend.
    And still, Eve hadn’t told him she’d agreed to another outing with Deene. Hadn’t told her sisters either.
    ***
    Deene bit into a pastry only to pull the thing from his mouth and stare at it.
    Stale as hardtack, not just inadvertently left sitting out for an hour.
    â€œSomething amiss, Cousin?” Anthony lounged at the foot of the table, the Times at his elbow and a steaming plate of eggs, kippers, and toast before him.
    â€œNothing that a few helpings of omelet won’t set to rights.” Deene dug in, wondering vaguely why the Times wasn’t sitting at his own elbow.
    Anthony glanced up from the paper. “You’re off to Surrey today?”
    â€œI am, and in the company of three lovely ladies. Envy me.”
    â€œThree? I’d heard you occasionally entertained two at once, but three is ambitious even for you.” Anthony topped off his teacup from the pot near his other elbow.
    â€œMy record is four, if you must know, Denning pride being what it is. And they all four had red hair. Pass the pot, would you?”
    What an asinine waste of a night that had been, too. Five people hardly fit in a very large bed, for God’s sake, even when stacked in various gymnastic combinations.
    â€œWhy ever would you attempt to please four women at once?” Anthony sounded genuinely intrigued as he slid the pot down the table.
    â€œThe idea was for them to please me—which they rather did—and to prove false a certain allegation regarding that dread condition known as whiskey dick in relation to a certain courtesy earl in the Deene succession.”
    â€œI am agog at the lengths you’ve been forced to go to defend the family honor, Lucas.”
    Anthony went back to his paper, in case his ironic tone hadn’t underscored the point clearly enough. Just when Deene might have helped himself to more eggs, Anthony looked up again. “Which three ladies will you entertain today?”
    â€œLouisa, Countess of Kesmore, as well as Genevieve and Eve Windham. We’re paying a call on King William, and I am escorting them, not entertaining them.”
    â€œA pretty trio, but two of them are perilously unmarried, need I remind you.”
    â€œAs am I, need I remind you. When do you think you can have some figures ready for me, Anthony?”
    Anthony peered at the paper and turned the pages over. “Which figures would those be?”
    â€œThe ones relating to our cash, our blunt, our coin of the realm.”
    Anthony went still in a way that indicated he was not even trying to look like he was reading, but was instead merely staring at the paper while he formulated a polite reply. He sat back and frowned at his empty plate.
    â€œYou’re determined on this? You really want to wade through years’ worth of musty ledgers and obscure accountings? I’d commend you for your zeal, but it’s a complicated, lengthy undertaking, and it truly won’t yield you any better sense of things than you have now.”
    â€œI want to know where I stand, Anthony.”
    He needed to know, in fact, though he was hardly going to admit that to Anthony, cousin or not.
    â€œDon’t worry.” Anthony’s smile was sardonic. “We’ve the blunt to keep you in red-haired whores for as long as you’re able to enjoy them four at a time.”
    Deene dispatched the last of his eggs and rose. “Perhaps we can start on that accounting after breakfast tomorrow.” He’d phrased it as a suggestion between cousins, though Anthony ought to have heard it as something