Laurie Brown by Hundreds of Years to Reform a Rake

anticipation of meeting that one....”
    The faraway look of longing in his eyes told her more about the importance of balls to Regency society than any number of
     Cecily’s lectures could.
    “Or so some would say.” Deverell brushed an imaginary piece of lint from his sleeve. “Actually, after the first few, balls
     were nothing more than an interminable evening of ceaseless posturing and gossip. An arcane ritual propagated by matchmaking
     mammas, whose only goal was to find rich and titled husbands for their daughters, or suitably demure wives for their sons.”
    “So how come you never married?”
    “It wasn’t for lack of trying on my mother’s part.
    Even though I had perfectly valid heirs in two younger cousins, she was determined to shackle me to some insipid miss. I did
     plan to marry eventually. I just never...”
    “Expected to die?”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone dies. I didn’t marry because I never met a woman worth my freedom, that’s all.”
    “From what I’ve read, it was the woman, not the man, who gave up everything by getting married.”
    “Easy to say from the perspective of hindsight.” Josie was taken aback. “Are you admitting I’m right?”
    “Perish the thought. Although few, there were certain expectations married men met.”
    “Such as keeping their liaisons discreet rather then flaunting them?”
    “A gentleman does not flaunt...anything. I referred to providing for his wife and subsequent family, keeping an appropriate
     home, hosting and escorting, doing one’s duty. Everything designed to limit a man’s free time as well as to sap his pocketbook.
     Resources a single man uses in the pursuit of his pleasure.”
    “Well, that hasn’t changed.”
    “Nor should it.”
    “At least now a single woman has the same option.”
    “And what pleasures do you pursue, Miss Drummond?”
    “My work,” she answered with only the slightest hesitation.
    “Josie? Miss Josie?”
    Deverell faded to his aura state just as Emma came around the corner.
    “Lady Amelia wondered whether you wanted to say good-bye to the Smythes.They’re all packed up and ready to leave.”
    “Of course.” Josie stood and followed the maid.
    She hesitated at the door and looked back over her shoulder. Deverell stood near the cozy alcove. From somewhere he’d produced
     a smoking cheroot and his signature brandy, the picture of a suave gentleman. He raised his glass in salute.
    “What a lovely, intriguing liar,” he said after she’d gone inside. But he wasn’t sure whether she’d been lying to him or to
     herself.And he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to know.
    He took a deep gulp of his drink, wishing he could feel its warming effect. If he wasn’t careful that woman would—no he couldn’t
     even think that.
    Best move up his timetable. Better to get this over with before...before what?
    He flicked the tasteless cigar over the stone balustrade.
    Before he wasted more energy on useless pursuits.

Five
    J OSIE SAT AT THE DESK IN THE LIBRARY, MAKING a list of the questions she wanted to ask Deverell. Although it would be easy to blame him for the limited information she’d
     gathered so far, she knew the blame belonged squarely on her own shoulders. She had allowed him to sidetrack her. She’d allowed
     herself to be distracted by his smile, the amused twinkle in his eyes when he baited her into another argument.
    She would have to fight that little thrill of excitement she felt in his presence, that curl of warmth when he appeared. She
     could easily become addicted to that tingle, and then where would she be? When the week was over and his grand plan failed,
     she would return to her life never to see him again.There was no future in being attracted to a ghost.
    Not that she was attracted to him or anything like that. She was just flattered that he seemed to be interested in her thoughts,
     her feelings.That’s all.
    She would stick to her research. No more tangents. She looked at