“Aye, I see you’re not in her good books.”
“I introduced her to Lord Crewe,” West said gloomily. “A mistake I sometimes fear I’ll pay for until Judgment Day.”
“He was a bad ‘un, all right. I had the dubious pleasure of making his acquaintance before he broke his neck on that drunken gallop and did the world a favor.”
West wasn’t quick enough to hide his surprise at the elevated circles Townsend moved in, and the man shrugged without resentment. “The sprigs of the nobility will stomach my unrefined manners when they want to take advantage of my money.”
“Silas always spoke highly of you,” West said. “And the rumor is after you saved the government’s bacon last year, there’s a peerage on the cards.”
Townsend’s gaze settled on the two women across the room. Lovely, blond-haired Fenella glanced up as if sensing his attention, and the smile she sent him was unmistakably sensual. With a shock that he had no right to feel, West realized that pure, delicate, proper Fenella Deerham was utterly in thrall to her fiancé. They’d share a bed tonight, or he was a Dutchman.
West felt even lonelier. Especially as Helena’s current coldness put her bed more out of reach than ever.
“I’d like to give Fenella every honor.”
It was West’s turn to laugh. “I doubt she gives a fig whether you’ve got a title or not. She’s always been beautiful, but now—”
“She burns like a flame.” The burly magnate blushed, and West liked him better for the awkwardness. “Pardon me. I’m not usually given to poetry.”
“Congratulations on your good fortune, old man. She’s a treasure. In my absence, London’s become Cupid’s realm.”
“Thank you. Now Helena is the last of our widows left to find a husband.”
“If I have any say, she won’t be a free woman for long.”
“So you mean marriage?”
“Of course. She’ll make the perfect wife, if I can convince her that I’m not another dissolute rake like Crewe.”
“You might have work to do there. Even I’ve heard the stories about your many conquests.”
West shrugged, his attention unwavering on the seemingly oblivious Helena. He didn’t feel guilty about his exploits. The women had been willing, the liaisons pleasurable, the partings mostly cordial. He hadn’t owed anyone his allegiance—until now.
&nb
sp; “I had my moments, but it’s time to settle down and set up my nursery.” The horror in Townsend’s expression made him pause. “What?”
“I hope you didn’t say that to Helena. Or it’s no wonder your suit doesn’t prosper.”
Had he wooed her in the stables? He’d been burning up with fever and hardly remembered what he’d said. “Helena knows me too well to fall for sentimental twaddle. And too clever as well.”
All the Nashes were dauntingly intelligent. Silas was a famous botanist. Helena devoted her leisure time to higher mathematics, and funding charity schools for bright, but indigent children. Robert put his navigational and engineering gifts into service in the navy. Silas’s youngest sister Amy wrote papers on the new agricultural practices.
“No lass is too clever to object to sweet talk from a lad she fancies. I shouldn’t have to tell you that. You’re the one they call a devil with the ladies.”
“Damn it, Hel’s different.”
Townsend’s disapproval melted into disappointment. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. And if her late husband was half the lout I thought him, she’s in dire need of tender handling. Kindness might even make her believe you’ve turned over a new leaf.”
West frowned at this man who promised to become a friend. “You don’t mince your words.”
“I’m no milksop aristocrat, you mean.”
West’s lips twitched. “I think I meant more than that.”
“You can’t punch me in the nose with the ladies present,” Townsend said placidly. “And you’re no fool either. Think about what I said. You’ll see I’m right.”
***