If You Give a Rake a Ruby by Shana Galen

about her father, and she was never going to call him by his Christian name. “Fine.”
    He raised his brows. “You agree? That easily?”
    â€œYes, that easily. Now—”
    â€œAnd you won’t renege?” He set his glass on the table.
    She let out a puff of outrage. “I cannot even believe you would suggest such a thing. I honor my bets.”
    â€œGood. In answer to your question, I couldn’t find any of your lovers.”
    She blinked, at a loss momentarily.
    â€œYou asked how I knew you were not really a courtesan. I tried to find one of your former lovers—or protectors, is that correct? The papers had you paired with all sorts of gentlemen, but when I approached them, none had any real intimate knowledge of you.”
    â€œI am discreet.”
    â€œYou are the soul of discretion, my dear Fallon, but men, especially when they’re a bit in their cups, are not. They often talk, and that talk often turns to women. When I brought up your name, there was a lot of speculation but no real firsthand knowledge.”
    â€œThat’s because the Earl of Sinclair—”
    â€œIs lying for you as well. I know the Sinclairs, Fallon. My mother and the countess went to school together. There is absolutely no way the Iron Countess, which is what I called her growing up, would allow the earl to bed you or any of the other diamonds under her own roof. I never believed that for a moment.”
    Fallon felt her mouth go dry, and she groped blindly for her untouched goblet of wine. She drank a sip and then another. “Well, you don’t know the countess as well as you think then.”
    She drank another swallow of wine. Hell, she might as well just drain the glass. Fitzhugh watched her unladylike behavior without reaction. “I’m not going to reveal your secret, Fallon,” he said.
    â€œNo, you’re just going to blackmail me with it.”
    He shrugged. “I thought we were past that.”
    â€œOh, you think I want you in my house, eating my food and drinking my wine? You think I want to help you? You think I want you sleeping in one of my beds?”
    â€œMaybe you want me sleeping in your bed.” He was across the bloody room and she still felt a flash of heat when he said it. It was the way he looked at her, as though he knew just how she liked to be kissed and where she wanted most to be touched.
    â€œNo, I don’t. What I want is for you to go away.”
    â€œAnd I will. After I find your father.”
    â€œWhat are you going to do with him when you find him?”
    He lifted his own glass and toasted. “I’m going to finish what you started.”
    ***
    Lord Alvanley’s ball was a tedious affair. Warrick hadn’t expected anything different. The same people were there as were at all the other events of the Season he avoided, though, to be fair, most of the stodgy ones had stayed away. That was probably because Alvanley had invited the entire demimonde. It wasn’t unusual for courtesans to attend Society events, but they weren’t usually present in such large numbers. He saw why Fallon felt the need to attend, and he glanced across the room to where she stood, surrounded by about half a dozen young men.
    He noticed she spoke very little and smiled even less. But she gave such sultry looks from those warm brown eyes and licked her plump red lips so seductively that the men probably did the talking and smiling for her. He watched her touch one of the men—a puppy of about twenty—on the arm and waited to feel some sense of jealousy. But none was forthcoming. Warrick knew he wasn’t immune to the emotion. And he knew he wanted her enough to envy any man who garnered her attention.
    But none of these men captured her attention—not really. This was all a play, and she was the actress on center stage. She flirted and lowered her lashes and swayed her hips, and she went home alone.
    That wasn’t