Page 74 of Nothing But a Rakehell
“Did you lose at cards?” she asked.
He chuckled. “I always lose when Sterne is playing. He’s a regular Card Sharper.”
“I’ll remember that.”
He lifted a kitten that had begun digging its claws into his boots. “I heard about your demonstration.”
Now it was her turn to laugh. “I’m sure you did.”
“I meant, I heard about the skill you showed. Most of the ladies were impressed.”
“Most,” she said sourly.
“You cannot think I would pay heed to anything Miss Vernon had to say?”
She shrugged. “I wouldn’t think so. But I’ve discovered I’m horrifically bad at predicting how you will respond to . . . most anything.”
“Well, you never have to worry about her influence. Nor do you have to fear that I’m afraid of you.”
“Perhaps you should be.” She untangled another kitten from her hair. “I’m sure I’m beginning to resemble Medusa by now.”
“I’ll take Medusa over a harpy, any day,” he said wryly.
“Honestly, she’s the one who should be frightened of me.” Bitter frustration crept into her tone. “You have no idea how close I came to showing her just what I can do with that whip. I would have loved to have snapped one of her buttons loose, or to have cracked it just next to one ear, then the other.”
He bit his lip but she could tell he was trying not to smile. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because she’s too much of a fool. A normal person would freeze—but she’d likely do the opposite and bolt—and not where I expected her to go. Can you imagine the ruckus if I actually had given her a good, quick flick?”
He grimaced. “Yes. I can.”
“So could I—and I still almost did it.”
“I take it back, maybe I am a tad bit frightened of you.” He stretched over, getting low to let a kitten jump from his shoulder. “Just a little.”
“Keswick,” she said, growing serious. “Do you pity me?”
He reared upright and the kitten squeaked. “No!” he said forcefully. “You know I don’t.”
“I didn’t think so. I’m usually terribly good at sniffing out pity and squashing it. I hated to think I might have been so wrong about you.”
“Whatever would make you even entertain the notion?”
“I asked my maid about physical matters—between a man and a woman.”
“You did what?” he asked, shocked.
“I told her that Miss Vernon had a book of naughty pictures and was speaking of physical relations to the young ladies.”
His eyes widened. “Well. That will spread like wildfire below stairs.” He sat back. “I take it back. I amdefinitelyfrightened of you.”
“It’s nothing she doesn’t deserve,” Glory sniffed. “But something she said today—about gentlemen keeping score—it reminded me of a discussion I heard my maid, Lucy, having with another of the chambermaids. They were speaking of physical matters, and one of them said that when a man and woman are together, then the man always . . . finishes. And that the woman only does if she is lucky.”
The light was dim, with just the light from the one lantern falling into the stall, but she could see his color rising. “The woman always finishes, if the man is skilled,” he corrected her.
“Well, today I asked her what happens when the man doesn’t finish—because I recalled the other maid saying it wasn’t healthy for a man to be left in that state.”
“And you believed that?” he asked incredulously.
