Page 15 of A Wicked Game

Harriet’s eyes widened at Lady Brassey’s throaty whisper.

“I haven’t heard any rumors,” Caroline Thurlow replied, equally sotto voce. “But he must have. A man like that can’t go without a woman for long. He was deprived of female company forweekswhen he was held prisoner, don’t forget. And then he endured a month at sea. I bet he went straight to the nearest brothel the moment his ship sailed into port.”

“Lucky tarts.” Louise Huntley sighed wistfully behind her fan. “Just think how desperate he would have been. How passionate.”

All three of them shivered in lurid delight.

“I’d give my eyeteeth for a night with him,” Lady Brassey admitted. “Brassey’s sodull. He only ever visits me when he’s drunk. Captain Davies is divine.”

Harriet shook her head, torn between amusement and dismay. Such bawdy topics were never discussed in front of unmarried women like her.

But it was hard to disagree with their assessment. Morganwasirritatingly good-looking, in a vibrant, masculine way that made every other male in the ballroom look somehow less imposing. As shaming as it was to be so shallow, she couldn’t deny that she, too, lusted after him to an unhealthy degree.

Accustomed to noting the smallest details on her maps, she knew the topography of his face as if it were her own. He might have the same features as other men—eyes and nose and mouth—but the way they were put together was more aesthetically pleasing.

God, the number of times she’d mentally traced those contours: the hollow of his cheek, the straight ridge of his nose, the luscious dip in his upper lip that made her own lips tingle in response.

Unlike the women in front of her, however, she appreciated Morgan for more than just the physical. His cynical wit, while cutting, always made her laugh, and beneath that handsome exterior beat a deeply loyal heart. A black, treacherous,Daviesheart, to be sure, but loyal nonetheless.

Whenever she was with him, she felt wickedly, prickingly alive.

Nobody else had the same effect.

It was extremely vexing.

“Whoever would have thought we’d get half a dozen Davieses and the same number of Montgomerys in the same room without someone drawing a blade?”

Harriet smiled as Aunt Prudence’s quavering tones reached her ears.

“We’ve entered a new age, Constance,” Prudence continued. “A lessening of hostilities, to go with the new peace on the Continent.”

Aunt Constance nodded benignly. “A détente, as the French would say.”

“That scoundrel Bonaparte still has a lot to answer for, though. Fancy forcing all the handsome young men to sail away and fight? I tell you, Captain Davies, London has been quite devoid of company for two seasons at least.”

“All those poor debutantes languishing at the side of the dance floor,” Constance added.

Harriet bit back a snort.Shehadn’t languished. Not much, anyway.

Morgan seemed to hear her thoughts. His head liftedand his gaze clashed with hers and she swallowed a gasp of shock.

How long had he known she was there?

“Oh, I don’t think you can blame Bonaparte foreverymale absence,” he said drily, making sure his words carried to her. “There are some women who make a man want to sail very far away, and stay there for a very long time.”

His eyes twinkled with devilry and Harriet sent him a scowl for implying thatshewas one of those women.

“And I’m sure some young ladies were celebrating my absence,” he continued. “Your niece Harriet, for example, probably spent the entire time writing my eulogy.”

He shot her another amused look over Prudence’s shoulder.

Prudence, unaware of their byplay, merely shrugged. “Yes, well, all this means there’s now a glut of unmarried young ladies wafting around London, all desperate to catch a newly returned officer.”

Constance raised her eyebrows. “You, young man, might think you’re the hunter, but believe me, you’re thehunted.”

Morgan laughed. “I stand forewarned, ma’am.”

“It’s going to be a bloodbath! I can’t wait.” Prudence chuckled with undisguised delight.

---