away. As far as I can tell, Joyce has made life hell for every man she’s ever taken as a lover—though this seems to be the first time she’s ever resorted to physical maiming.” Alex’s mouth tightened with distaste. “For all Joyce’s beauty, I would never have the desire to lie with her. There’s something emotionless about her. She’s like a beautiful, deadly serpent. Why in God’s name did you become involved with her? Surely you knew better.”
Derek hesitated. It was a rare occasion when he confided in anyone—but if there was one man he trusted, it was Alex. “I knew better,” he admitted, “but I didn’t care. I met Joyce at Lord Aveland’s wedding reception. We talked for a while. I thought she would be entertaining, and so…” He shrugged. “The affair began that night.”
Alex began to ask something, hesitated, and looked disgusted with himself. “What was she like?” he finally asked, unable to hold back the question of purely masculine interest.
Derek smiled wryly. “Exotic. She likes tricks, games, perversions…There’s nothing she won’t do. I enjoyed it for a while. The trouble began when I’d finally had enough of her. She didn’t want it to end.” His mouth twisted. “Still doesn’t.”
Alex sipped some brandy and then swirled the liquid in the snifter, regarding it with untoward interest. “Derek,” he murmured, “before my father died, he had a close friendship with Lord Ashby. Although Lord Ashby is an old man now, he’s lost none of his mental agility. I’d like to approach him discreetly and ask him to put a stop to Joyce’s antics before she does something worse than she already has.”
“No,” Derek said with a short laugh. “I’d be lucky if the old codger doesn’t hire someone to finish me off. He wouldn’t take kindly to the idea of flash gentry humping his wife. Don’t interfere, Raiford.”
Alex, who had always been fond of solving others’ problems, was annoyed by the refusal. “What makes you think I’m asking for your bloody permission? You’ve damn well manipulated and interfered with my life for years!”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Then at least take my advice. Stop having affairs with other men’s wives. Find your own woman. How old are you? Thirty?”
“I don’t know.”
Alex registered the statement with a blink of surprise, and then regarded him speculatively. “You have the look of a thirty-year-old. That’s high time for a man to marry and produce legitimate offspring.”
Derek raised his brows in mock horror. “A wife? Little Cravens underfoot? God, no.”
“Then at least find yourself a mistress. Someone who knows how to take care of a man. Someone like Viola Miller. Were you aware that she and Lord Font-mere have recently broken off their arrangement? You’ve seen Viola before…a graceful, intelligent woman. She doesn’t bestow her favors lightly. If I were you, I’d do whatever was in my power to become her next protector. I think you’ll agree she’s worth whatever price you have to pay.”
Derek gave an irritable shrug, wanting to change the subject. “A woman never solves anything. She only causes more problems.”
Alex grinned. “Well, you’d be safer with your own wife than someone else’s. And you have little to lose by throwing in your lot with the rest of us.”
“Misery loves company,” Derek quoted sourly.
“Exactly.”
Their conversation drifted to other matters, and Derek asked if Alex and Lily were planning to attend the assembly ball at the club.
Alex laughed at the idea. “No, I’m not fond of that crowd of scoundrels and whores called the demimonde —though my wife does seem to enjoy such gatherings.”
“Where is she?”
“At the dressmaker’s, having some new gowns fitted. Lately she’s worn her damn breeches about the estate so often that our son asked why she didn’t wear gowns like all the other mothers.” Alex frowned. “Lily left in a hurry this morning.
Derek hesitated. It was a rare occasion when he confided in anyone—but if there was one man he trusted, it was Alex. “I knew better,” he admitted, “but I didn’t care. I met Joyce at Lord Aveland’s wedding reception. We talked for a while. I thought she would be entertaining, and so…” He shrugged. “The affair began that night.”
Alex began to ask something, hesitated, and looked disgusted with himself. “What was she like?” he finally asked, unable to hold back the question of purely masculine interest.
Derek smiled wryly. “Exotic. She likes tricks, games, perversions…There’s nothing she won’t do. I enjoyed it for a while. The trouble began when I’d finally had enough of her. She didn’t want it to end.” His mouth twisted. “Still doesn’t.”
Alex sipped some brandy and then swirled the liquid in the snifter, regarding it with untoward interest. “Derek,” he murmured, “before my father died, he had a close friendship with Lord Ashby. Although Lord Ashby is an old man now, he’s lost none of his mental agility. I’d like to approach him discreetly and ask him to put a stop to Joyce’s antics before she does something worse than she already has.”
“No,” Derek said with a short laugh. “I’d be lucky if the old codger doesn’t hire someone to finish me off. He wouldn’t take kindly to the idea of flash gentry humping his wife. Don’t interfere, Raiford.”
Alex, who had always been fond of solving others’ problems, was annoyed by the refusal. “What makes you think I’m asking for your bloody permission? You’ve damn well manipulated and interfered with my life for years!”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Then at least take my advice. Stop having affairs with other men’s wives. Find your own woman. How old are you? Thirty?”
“I don’t know.”
Alex registered the statement with a blink of surprise, and then regarded him speculatively. “You have the look of a thirty-year-old. That’s high time for a man to marry and produce legitimate offspring.”
Derek raised his brows in mock horror. “A wife? Little Cravens underfoot? God, no.”
“Then at least find yourself a mistress. Someone who knows how to take care of a man. Someone like Viola Miller. Were you aware that she and Lord Font-mere have recently broken off their arrangement? You’ve seen Viola before…a graceful, intelligent woman. She doesn’t bestow her favors lightly. If I were you, I’d do whatever was in my power to become her next protector. I think you’ll agree she’s worth whatever price you have to pay.”
Derek gave an irritable shrug, wanting to change the subject. “A woman never solves anything. She only causes more problems.”
Alex grinned. “Well, you’d be safer with your own wife than someone else’s. And you have little to lose by throwing in your lot with the rest of us.”
“Misery loves company,” Derek quoted sourly.
“Exactly.”
Their conversation drifted to other matters, and Derek asked if Alex and Lily were planning to attend the assembly ball at the club.
Alex laughed at the idea. “No, I’m not fond of that crowd of scoundrels and whores called the demimonde —though my wife does seem to enjoy such gatherings.”
“Where is she?”
“At the dressmaker’s, having some new gowns fitted. Lately she’s worn her damn breeches about the estate so often that our son asked why she didn’t wear gowns like all the other mothers.” Alex frowned. “Lily left in a hurry this morning.
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