Page 2 of A Touch Wicked
James couldn’t help but think of the kind of man he’d be behind that sinner’s mask. He could be anyone. Play a different part each night.
How would he make love to a woman while he wore it?
What wouldhermask look like?
“Kent.” His brother’s voice was suddenly serious.
“Hmm?”
“You’re going to be thirty in under two months.”
James scowled at Richard and took another drink of brandy. “I appreciate the reminder.”
Richard set the mask back in its box and shut the lid. “I wouldn’t need to remind you if you hadn’t decided on an arbitrary age—”
“It’s not arbitrary,” James said in irritation. "Christ, man, I'll be courting debutantes ten years my junior. If I wait too long, I’ll be another old bastard hoping to snare a young wife. I’d feel sorry for her.”
Richard stared at him. “I see you’ve put a great deal of thought into this. Perhaps too much.”
“If I had known you were here to harangue me, I wouldn’t have bothered letting you in.” James rose from the settee and went to collect the invitation, but Richard held it out of his reach. “Give me the damn thing, Richard.”
His brother only smirked and continued to hold the paper aloft. James would have to climb over him like a complete fool to get it. “Do you plan to have a mistress after you marry?” Richard asked. “Or do you still only intend on fucking one woman?”
James straightened. He shouldn’t have been surprised — the filter between his brother’s brain and his mouth always took a detour through his prick first. How he managed to hold any sort of conversation at all was a mystery. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business one way or another.”
“Because you wouldn’t set some woman up, would you? Not like Father.” Richard looked smug. Sometimes James longed to punch him in the face for it.
“I might.” The lie felt awkward on his tongue. “You don’t know that I won’t.”
But James was nothing like the late earl. Their father was never discreet in his numerous affairs. He paraded his mistresses about town without regard to the humiliation and gossip his countess endured. When James’s mother was in labor with his sister, Alexandra, his father hadn’t bothered to be present. Nor was the bastard there mere hours later when his wife's difficult childbirth drove her to an early grave.
He had been too damn busy tupping his mistress.
Richard let out a breath, and James knew his lie was obvious. His brother held the invitation in front of him. “Go — before you’re shackled in a passionless marriage to a society miss seeking a titled husband. This gives you the opportunity to bed a woman in complete anonymity, no attachments. Hell, go bed several. Just make sure it’s enough to last a lifetime.”
James felt something inside him stir at visions of his nameless future wife who only married him for what he could offer. Oneheonly married because it was his duty. “How do you know it will be passionless and dull?” His voice sounded even, but hollow to his ears.
Richard smiled bitterly. “Because duty is the antithesis of desire, brother. Father knew that.”
James stared at the eloquent handwriting, each word painstakingly inked. After a moment’s hesitation, he took the invitation from his brother.
Chapter 2
Miss Emma Dumont — companion, secretary, and co-writer to Lady Alexandra Grey — was many things, but an eavesdrop? Not one of them.
Until now, that is.
She was at the door of the sitting room, ear to the wood as she listened to the conversation within. Shameless, shameless, shameless.
You ought to be embarrassed, she thought.Look at you. You're awful. You're terrible. The worst sort of person. You're—
"This gives you the opportunity to bed a woman in complete anonymity, no attachments," Mr. Grey was saying. "Hell, go bed several. Just make sure it’s enough to last a lifetime."
Emma pressed a hand to her lips, smothering her gasp.
You're pathetic, Emma Dumont. Truly hopeless.
Yes, the horrible, awful truth was that she had desired Lord Kent since she came to live in this house three years ago.
