Dangerous in Diamonds by Madeline Hunter Page A

here. Her little property would barely signify to such a man. Neither would the person who lived on it. His game with her only occupied the dregs of his time, and he even resented his inclination to play it.
    “I must apologize, Your Grace. I have allowed the prejudice of the scandal sheets and the gossips to influence me too much. I have been shamefully quick to assume you are the notorious, profligate scoundrel they describe.” She gestured to the papers and tried to make amends by showing some interest. “Have you been at it long?”
    He went over and lifted a few of the sheets. He peered at them critically. “Some months now. There are parts that bedevil me and are taking too long to get right. I hope with experience it becomes easier. I never thought writing a book could be so difficult but also so engrossing.”
    He had turned his mind to an important task and was finding it a challenge. She could not imagine he admitted that often, about anything.
    “May I ask the topic? If it is a secret, forgive me for prying.”
    “It is not a secret. I have already confided my intentions to a few friends. I would not want to bore you, however.”
    “I would not find it boring.”
    He gazed down at his words and appeared charmingly proud of whatever it was that he read. “It is a guidebook. To London. For the average citizen. Advice on where to go to find diversions.”
    That was not nearly as elevated and scholarly as she had assumed, but it was still worthwhile. “How helpful. Visitors will be happy to have advice from a man of your taste and station on the theaters and races and such.”
    “Mmmmm. Well, that has been done before, though, hasn’t it?” He muttered, distracted now by the prose on the sheet of paper. “This book will not plow previously tilled fields but break new ground. It involves very special diversions, in which few other men have my level of connoisseurship.”
    She looked at him, then at the papers, then at him again. She caught him smiling over some passage he read.
    “What sort of diversions, Your Grace?”
    He did not hear her, he was so absorbed. He frowned. “Have you ever noticed that there are whole areas of experience for which the English language is inadequate? I had never acknowledged the deficiencies before I began this exercise.”
    She could think of one area of experience where that might be true. Just as she could think of only one kind of diversion in which Castleford was said to have a rare level of connoisseurship.
    He was writing a London guide to sinning.
    “I surmise that this will be a book for men, Your Grace.”
    He sighed while he shuffled the pages and put them down. “Unfortunately, I expect so. I have no experience with which to write chapters for women. I could ask some ladies whom I believe to be knowledgeable for their advice, but I doubt they would admit enough to be helpful. Women tend to be very secretive about enjoying diversions such as this. It isn’t as if the world is fooled. Everyone knows there are some very fine establishments that cater to females. They could hardly thrive in their trade if no females made use of them, now could they?”
    She blinked hard. It was worse than she thought. He was not penning a tome about gambling hells and cockfights and such, but about brothels .
    “I can see why you find this book so engrossing to write.”
    “In truth, the research became burdensome, but on those thankfully rare occasions when I put my mind to something, I normally feel compelled to see it through. Fortunately, that part is well completed.”
    Really!
    “I will take my leave now, Your Grace, so I no longer inconvenience your day and so you can return to preparing your great gift to the men of England.”
    For some reason that caught his attention. Perhaps it was her tone or maybe the way she executed a stiff, quick curtsy.
    Suddenly the devil was watching her, and amused at what he saw.
    “Are you jealous, Mrs. Joyes? Or scandalized? I cannot