“Hmmm. No fire. I don’t suppose there was smoke?” Taviston contained the smile playing about his lips with great effort. This conversation would be so much more amusing if Peyton were in on the joke, but he was not going to explain his acquaintance with Victoria Forster to his brother. Absolutely not.
“No. Not a sign of fire or smoke. Listen, Taviston, I have splendid plans for this evening. You really must—”
Peyton was interrupted by the arrival of their food. Taviston threw him a triumphant look and then they both picked up their forks with their left hands and began eating. Left-handedness was about the only trait the two of them had in common. Peyton’s russet-colored hair set off his blue eyes and it was often said he had the face of an angel. Taviston always added, “and the heart of the devil.”
After they had made a good dent in their meals, Peyton persisted in his objective. He dabbed his lips with his linen napkin and then said, “Truly, Taviston, you would never regret accompanying me tonight. I have quite an evening planned with two of the most beautiful women you have ever seen.”
Unless one of them is a petite, sandy-haired, blue-eyed graceless nymph, I am not interested. Taviston shot his brother a quick look to make sure he hadn’t uttered that outrageous sentiment out loud.
“I am not the least bit interested but I will remind you to
keep yourself out of trouble,” Taviston admonished, just as he always did.
This was generally how their conversations went. Unless it was Taviston trying to convince Peyton to actually do something with his life, such as enter the military or the government. Fortunately, Peyton did stay away from serious trouble. Oh, he was a rake of the first order, but he steered clear of true scandal. Taviston would never have tolerated any tainting of the family name and Peyton well knew it. He kept his disreputable behavior within bounds and in return Taviston hadn’t forced him into taking a position he didn’t want. Yet.
They finished their dinners and then carried their brandies into one of the numerous dark-paneled sitting rooms of the club. They settled themselves into chairs in a far corner.
His brother was ready to launch into another round of verbal enticement when the Marquess of Northfield threw himself dramatically into an adjoining chair. “Good afternoon.”
Peyton gave him an absent-minded “good day” while Taviston tensed and shot a wary look at Northfield. He sensed he was about to be given hell.
Northfield indicated to a nearby footman that he was in need of a brandy as well. Then he turned to Peyton in the chair and said, “Has your brother spoken to you about Miss Victoria Forster?”
Peyton sat up a little straighter and threw his brother a narrow-eyed glare. “Who is this chit?
“She is a lady, Peyton,” Taviston said repressively. He cast about for a change of subject but came up blank.
“Precisely the information I want,” Northfield insisted while sending a sharp look across to Taviston. “He asked Jane for information about this young woman. Then he proceeded to dance with her last evening.” The marquess sank back into his chair as if he had delivered scandalous news.
“Well, brother, what say you? Dancing with a woman? I suppose next thing we know you will be parading her through the park in your carriage!” Peyton’s face crinkled with amusement.
“I hardly think so. She is not the type of woman I would ever consider courting,” Taviston responded with frustration. God help him when he did decide to court a woman, for these two were merciless.
“Oh, really?” Northfield countered with an inquisitive look.
“Certainly not. She has none of the qualities I should hope to find in my future bride. She would be entirely wrong for the position.”
Although Taviston was hard-pressed to think of a scenario, other than marriage, that would allow him to feel her lush body naked beneath his. No. Just because she made him more randy than a stallion did not mean he had to ever act on those feelings. He uncharacteristically ran his fingers through his short hair.
“You know what they say about protesting too much.” Peyton could not stop grinning at him, which only added to his annoyance and frustration.
Northfield’s suspicious eyes tracked his every move. Taviston gulped down the rest of his brandy.
Northfield probed, “If you are not interested in courting her, then why did you inquire about her and why have you been spending time with her?”
The brandy slid down his throat, soothing his irritation. “We have encountered each other—quite by accident—a number of times in the past few days. Curiosity compelled me to discover who her family were.”
His statement seemed to satisfy Peyton, but then, his brother hadn’t been present for the bizarre scene with Louisa Browne and their mother. He checked his watch.
Northfield seemed more reluctant to let the subject pass. He leaned forward with his forearms on his knees and pinned Taviston with a stare. “Tell me about these encounters.”
He often shared confidences with Northfield, and his brother as well. But not this time. They were too interested in Miss Forster when all he wanted to do was forget about her. Indeed, he would be happy to never see her again.
“No, Northfield. Now if you will excuse me, I need to return home and dress for this evening’s entertainment.” He rose and waited expectantly for Northfield and Peyton.
His brother stood hastily and began backing away from them. “Right.” He said, without much hope, “Taviston, about my plans for this evening?”
“No thank you, little brother.”