Page 9 of Mr. Notorious and the Nefarious November

“So you agree to my five prizes?”

“Yes, I agree,” she called over her shoulder.

Munro smiled.

“And, for your information,” she called back before opening the door to her chamber and disappearing inside. “I am not at all opposed to licking.”

Chapter Three

Several days later, Munro leaned against a column in the opulent ballroom at Ramsbury’s town house and scowled as Beatrice danced with one man after another. As if the Notley betrothal ball wasn’t enough, Ramsbury had felt it necessary to hold his own celebratory ball. Munro had tried to bow out, but Lavinia had begged him to attend.

And where was the chit now? Over in another corner giggling with friends. She couldn’t have cared less if Munro was present. The only person who seemed less interested in him was Beatrice. She hadn’t spoken more than a few words to him these past few days, and she’d been so busy assisting Judith with the wedding preparations, he’d had no chance to see her alone.

How was she supposed to tempt him if he never spent any time with her?

“Have you ever seen a footstool made from huang-hua-li—I’m probably not pronouncing that correctly—but it’s a hardwood in China.”

Munro glanced at Dudley, who was about four inches shorter than he, three years older, and two stone lighter. As usual, Dudley had one thing on his mind.

“This might come as a shock, Dudley,” Munro said, “but I rarely pay attention to footstools I encounter.”

“You would know the one I’m speaking of. It’s over two centuries old and in peak condition. The reason I mention the hardwood is because the footstool is not upholstered. The hardwood is on display and the craftsmanship is exquisite.”

Munro spotted a footman approaching with a tray. Unfortunately, the tray held only a slip of paper, not a hole Munro could climb into. The footman paused in front of Munro. “For you, sir.”

Munro took the note and broke the seal, a seal he didn’t recognize. Dudley was still going on about Chinese hardwood, and Munro prayed the note was some sort of escape.

It was.

Meet me in the music room on the other end of the gallery. I think we could make beautiful music together.

HV

Munro knew who HV was—Hannah de Vries. She was one of the most beautiful women in London. Widowed at only twenty-four, she had since taken a slew of lovers and was known for her passion and inventiveness. Long ago, before Munro had met Beatrice and fallen in love with her, he’d shared a memorable evening with Mrs. de Vries. He wouldn’t mind repeating the experience.

Munro stuffed the note in his waistcoat and searched for Beatrice again. She was still dancing, laughing at the man partnering her. Munro felt like punching the arse right in his bulbous nose. But, considering he was the elderly uncle of the duke, Munro controlled himself. He could absolutely slip away and meet with Hannah. Beatrice would never even notice his absence. A half hour with Hannah would be vastly preferrable to listening to Dudley. But how to rid himself of Dudley so he might rendezvous with the wicked widow waiting in the music room?

Munro glanced around. “Dudley, do you see that over there?” He pointed to a corner of the room where a crowd of older women, mothers of some of the debutantes, had gathered.

“See what?” Dudley asked, raising his quizzing glass.

“I thought I saw a footstool. One of the older women was seated on it. Lovely green upholstery.”

Dudley was staring hard now. “I don’t see anything.”

“I’m surely mistaken. Although, one does wonder if the duke has any pieces of note. His family is quite ancient. Surely there must be a footstool or two about.”

Dudley glanced at him, brown eyes wide. “The footmen might have brought a footstool so the lady might have a seat.”

“Precisely.”

“Green, you say?”

“I thought—”

“Excuse me, Munro. I must have a look.”

And Dudley walked away, on the search for Munro’s imaginary footstool. Now that his brother was out of the way, Munro was free to seek pleasures elsewhere, specifically the music room.

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