the contrary, Letitia, I feel it my bounden duty to bestow myself on as many of your sex as I can. And I do my best, you know.’ This was said with a rueful smile, for Kit knew that Letitia, despite her perfect breeding, liked to consider herself risqué.
‘Kit!’ She feigned shock, anyway. ‘I mean bestow yourself properly. I’m not referring to your mistresses, for Heaven’s sake.’
‘Tut, tut, Letitia, what can you know of my mistresses?’
‘Why, no more nor less than the whole of London society, since you flaunt them so brazenly at every opportunity. Only yesterday I saw you in a carriage in Oxford Street with that shameless hussy Charlotte—harlot, more like—sitting at your side. Draped in the most gorgeous furs, too. No doubt paid for by you.’ Letitia couldn’t prevent the bitter note of envy entering her voice, thinking back to how stunning Charlotte du Pres had looked. Providing her husband with six children in quick succession had taken a heavy toll on what little looks she herself had once possessed.
‘Yes, she really is rather lovely, isn’t she? But alas, I fear, becoming rather tedious. Her demands are endless, you know, Letitia, and the rewards less attractive each time. I think that Charlotte is coming to the end of her usefulness.’
‘Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. She’s been with you two months now. Don’t you ever find a woman diverting for longer?’
‘Alas, no. At least, not yet. And since I’ve been trying for more years than either of us, sister dear, would care to count, I’m afraid you really must resign yourself to my bachelor state. And incidentally, please don’t go breaking your heart over Charlotte, she’ll be more than adequately compensated for her loss.’
‘Yes, you’re very generous in that way, I know. But really, Kit, you’re so hugely rich that it means nothing to you. Not, I assure you, that I’m complaining myself, for you’ve been exceeding good to me and my children over the years, particularly Jeremy, who scarce deserves it. He may be my only son and I love him dearly but it’s plain the lad is a wastrel. I just wish you took your duty to marry and produce your own son and heir as seriously.’
‘Enough of this. I have no desire to be leg-shackled, it was a jest. I have no wish to be presented to yet another eligible girl who will drive me back into the arms of someone who at least can attend properly to my physical needs. And spare me your blushes, Letty, for you know perfectly well what I mean.’
‘No, Kit, I do not. There is no reason why you shouldn’t continue to tend to your physical needs, as you put it, outside of the marriage bed. But you must marry for the sake of the family. Jeremy is no fit heir for you. You need the stability of a wife. You need someone to care for you in your old age.’
Kit threw back his head and laughed again, running his fingers through his cropped, glossy black hair. ‘For God’s sake Letitia, I’m thirty-five, I don’t need a nursemaid yet. I’ll tell you what, the minute I show the first signs of contracting gout, I’ll start looking out for a wife to tend to me.’
‘By then, you’ll be too old to father children, and it will be too late. Kit, do listen, since you brought the topic up. I know your reputation is bad—and indeed, well deserved—but you’re still eligible. I could still find you someone suitable.’
Kit was now deeply regretting raising the subject. ‘Letty, enough. You know my views on matrimony, they are not likely to change. There are but two types of women on this earth, and they live in worlds that don’t mix. There are those who provide pleasure for a man, and who require payment, and there are those who provide a family—and they require payment in a different way. And I’m happy to pay for the former, if I get something out of it. But why should I pay for a family when I don’t want one? Have done.’
Letitia, silenced temporarily by the stern tone of her brother’s voice, had done. Reflecting on what he had said, she had to accept the truth of it, for Kit had no experience of any respectable female wanting to give more than she took from him. Starting with their mother—and, she had to admit, herself too. But Letitia wasn’t one to give up so easily, either. Her brother must have an heir. He must make some sacrifices. ‘Kit, let me see what I can do. I’ll see if I can provide you with someone who is at least good to look at.’
‘Enough. Let us forgo any further discussion. I must change for this cursed party of yours.’
Shaking his head to banish the memory of that uncomfortable conversation, Kit took another draught of claret, and cast an idle eye over the ballroom. So far, he had danced only with Miss Haysham, but he knew that he’d have to choose at least one other partner soon, or the world would think he had singled the fair Miss Haysham out. And Kit did not want that to happen. Really, the idea of matrimony was ridiculous. Apart from anything else, he had no desire to make his poor wife—whoever she might be—totally miserable. And since he could in no way promise liking, never mind fidelity, miserable she would be, and quickly. Best to focus on this last run with the Sea Wolf first, then think to the future after. For now, he needed to find another dance partner.
A brief flash of black domino lined with emerald green caught his eye in the far corner, and roused his attention. It was highly unusual for a female to wear black—in fact, he was the only man to do so tonight. And while he could have sworn he knew everyone here—despite the masks—she was unfamiliar. She was standing by the open window, and for some reason she seemed to be watching him. Her stance was alert, giving the impression of one on the verge of flight. Kit was intrigued. Retrieving two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, he made his way over to the stranger.
‘I fear you are somewhat warm, Miss Black Domino—can I offer you a cooling drink?’
Clarrie gave a start, then tried, rather unsuccessfully, to regain her poise. The black domino, the only other one here, had been pointed out to her as the Earl of Rasenby. He had made the first move. She couldn’t believe her luck. Nor could she flee now, as she had been contemplating only a moment before. Fate had decreed that she must go through with her plan.
‘Why, thank you, sir. It is rather hot.’ He was tall, much taller than Clarrie, and despite the domino she could see he was exceedingly well built. Somehow, she had expected him to be more dandified. But the Earl of Rasenby was obviously of athletic inclination, and favoured a simple elegance that relied on his physique and the quality of his tailoring, rather than decoration. For the first time in her life, Clarrie experienced a strong gust of sheer physical attraction that was both unexpected and unwelcome.
Looking up, she could see little of his features behind the mask, only a pair of piercing dark eyes, looking into hers assessingly. So this was the man who wanted to steal Amelia’s virtue. This was the man who intended to sweep her sister—and with her, Clarissa and her mama—into a world of vice and degradation. Well, she could certainly see his appeal. What she needed to find out was just how serious he was in his intentions, before she decided to act. Clarissa still nourished a hope that Amelia had exaggerated—though in the light of Lady Constance’s revelations, it was but a faint one.
‘Do you not find these masked affairs somewhat tedious, sir? Why, I swear I know everyone here. ‘Tis but an excuse to allow those who are so inclined to flirt a little more openly, is it not?’
Clarissa’s voice, usually so low and musical, had assumed a slightly breathless quality. The combination of the role she had to play, and the physical awareness of this surprisingly attractive man, were already taking their toll. But she wouldn’t fail at the first hurdle, there was too much at stake. Under no illusions about her own attractions, she had studied Amelia closely, and she knew how to flirt—even if she was about to try it out for the first time.
Kit
