Gorgeous As Sin

Algernon was richer by three hundred pounds, equal to a modest annual income for the lesser gentry, and the future held the possibility of real wealth.

The men parted with assurances and smiles, their bargain made.

Symon could report that he’d been partially successful in his assignment. Furthermore, he didn’t miss the evening train to London.

Chapter 24

FITZ LEFT ROSALIND’S apartment early the next morning. Throughout the day, Rosalind half hoped he’d stop by again, even though she realized the folly in harboring such expectations from a man who viewed women as amusements. At times, relatively tender amusements as he’d indicated last night, but she knew better than to anticipate any permanent interest. Her life had been too challenging to put much store in silver-lining fantasies. And despite Mrs. Beecham’s comment about dukes marrying beneath them, she was not about to take complete leave of her senses in that regard.

While Rosalind was reminding herself not to lose sight of reason when it came to Fitz’s charming ways-sexual and otherwise-Fitz was doing his very best not to think of Rosalind at all. He refused to yield to what he considered uncontrollable urges today. It was a matter of principle.

He actually escorted his mother to a luncheon that day, followed by a short musical recital. Not short enough in his estimation, but then with plenty of brandy he managed to survive the performance without losing his good humor.

In fact, on the carriage ride back to Groveland House, Julia said, “You seem in fine fettle today, darling. Even playing cavalier to me without so much as a grumble.” She looked at him with a twinkle in her eye. “To what do I owe this pleasure? ”

He was lounging back on the seat opposite her, the carriage top down on the warm afternoon, his gaze half- lidded against the sun. “I haven’t seen much of you since you arrived. I thought I’d do my filial duty.”

“Why today? ”

He laughed. “Don’t look at me with such suspicion. You’d think I never accompany you anywhere.”

“You don’t.”

“I do when you ask me.” He lifted his brows. “The Turner exhibit, for instance.”

“You left me there. Along with Miss Nesbit.”

“If you’re going to quibble with me,” he drawled, amusement in his gaze, “I won’t ask you where we’re going next.”

She looked at him as she had when he was young and trying to keep something from her. “Are you sick, darling? You can tell me.”

He rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not sick, Mother. I’m in excellent health.”

“You were out all night.”

“I’m out most nights.”

“That’s true,” she agreed, experiencing some relief. “I thank you then for your company, although you have to admit, darling, you don’t often escort me to luncheon.”

“I was just in the mood today.”

“If you say so.” She wasn’t convinced.

“I do.” Then he took out a flask from his coat pocket, uncorked it, and drank a long draught.

It must be that woman, Julia thought with a mother’s instinct. “I was planning on going to Charlotte’s tea next if you’re looking for something to do.”

He groaned. “Good God, Mother, why do you bother with that self-righteous prude? ”

“If you must know, Kemal will be there. Charlotte’s husband is in the Ministry of Trade, and he and Kemal are discussing something or other,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“If Kemal’s there, you won’t need me.” Being dutiful had its limits and Charlotte Dalton was his. He couldn’t stomach the woman; she thought she could entice him as a suitor by slyly calling attention to her daughter’s virginity.

His mother smiled, well aware of Charlotte’s crude presumption. “You could just tell Charlotte you can’t abide virgins.”

“I believe I have in every possible way short of gross discourtesy, Mother. She is completely obtuse and oblivious to the fact that virgins went the way of sailing ships.”

“I believe there are still a few.”

He offered her a jaundiced look. “If they’re very plain.” At which point a picture of the splendid Mrs. St. Vincent sprang into his mind in not so subtle contrast. “I’ll get off at Brooks’s,” he abruptly said and swivelling around gave instructions to the driver. “You don’t need me with Kemal for company, do you? ”

“No, of course not.” Julia scrutinized her son, taking note of his sudden discomfort. “If you need anything or if you wish for entertainment tonight, Kemal and I are dining with Derby.”

Fitz looked up, his flask halfway to his mouth. “Thank you, but I’ll find some entertainment of my own.” Raising the flask to his mouth, he drained it.

“Do you have plans to go to Green Grove anytime soon?” Fitz normally went grouse hunting in August or rusticated in the country.

“I’m not sure. What about you? ”

“We might drive out next week,” Julia said.

“I’ll come along if I can,” he lied. It wasn’t that he disliked Kemal; he just preferred not seeing Kemal play husband to his mother when the man already had four wives. A son’s protective impulse perhaps, but there it was.

Despite drinking and gambling at Brooks’s in the course of the following hours, however, his memories of Mrs. St. Vincent persisted. In fact, the more he drank, the more vivid they became. Not a particular surprise. He’d decided to play cicisbeo to his mother in order not to spend the day drinking, knowing what it would do to his self-control. He was like a dog with the neighborhood bitch in heat, he thought-driven willy nilly to fuck her. And liquor only made the craving worse.

He didn’t stay more than a few hours at Brooks’s. He left for Madame Rivera’s determined to exhaust himself. If he fucked someone else until he couldn’t fuck anymore, he hoped to annihilate his lustful need for the enticing Rosalind.

A petite, pretty blonde was riding Fitz some time later and silently offering up thanks for her good fortune. All the ladies vied for his attention when he called, knowing darling Fitz always gave pleasure in rich full measure. “I’m so glad you’re staying,” she purred, slowly sliding back down his cock.

After hours of drinking, he was fighting to stave off the compulsion that had brought him here. “I can’t think of a better place to spend the night,” he murmured.

“Lucky me…” He was the only man she knew who could last til morning.

WHILE FITZ WAS doing his prurient best to forget Rosalind, she was locking up the bookstore before setting off for her appointment with Dr. Swindell. In the course of the day, she’d reconciled herself to the practicalities of serving as the Duke of Groveland’s idle entertainment. All the pros, cons, and harsh realities had been neatly compartmentalized and locked away.

If she saw him again, fine. If she didn’t, she understood the rules apropos casual liaisons. They were by definition casual.

She took a few moments to stop by Mr. Edding’s. With the interruptions of late, she wished to let him know she was behind schedule. Not that she would divulge the reasons why-that Fitz had been consuming all her leisure time. But Mr. Edding deserved some warning so he could adjust his publication schedule.

As she walked into his shop, she immediately noticed his apprehension. Thinking perhaps she was jumping to conclusions, she smiled. “Good evening, sir. I came to beg your indulgence. My next manuscript will be delayed I’m afraid.”

“You mustn’t be seen here,” he whispered, although they were quite alone. “I didn’t dare send you a message