My Lady, My Lord by Katharine Ashe Page A

intention, just like Corinna would.
    Jag looked sober. “I don’t know that that would be the best course of action. Lady Chance is not in residence.”
    Ian turned back to Gregory. “I must speak with him. Tonight.”
    Gregory looked surprised.
    Ian squeezed his brother’s arm with his woman’s slender hand. “Please.”
    Greg nodded.
    Jag followed them along the sidewalk. Ian had thoroughly shredded Corinna’s reputation tonight. This little promenade wasn’t helping any, but he knew his friends wouldn’t speak of it to anyone but each other.
    Simmons opened the front door and peered closely at Ian as they entered the foyer.
    “Is my brother about, Simmons?” Gregory removed Ian’s cloak, not hiding his grimace when he looked at Ian’s face in the light. His jaw was tender. There must be a welt, or at least redness where the footpad had struck him.
    “I will inform him of your call, Master Gregory,” the butler said. “And I will have tea sent to the blue parlor.”
    “Thanks, old fellow,” Gregory said.
    “Master Gregory,” Simmons said, “May I suggest that you invite Lady Corinna to retire to Lady Chance’s unused chamber at this time? I will send a maid to assist her.”
    Gregory patted Ian’s hand. “Sounds like a capital idea. We’ll see you in the parlor when you wish, Lady Corinna.” He flashed an open smile and Ian followed Simmons to his mother’s room.
    The mark on Corinna’s tender skin didn’t appear too serious. It would fade within a day or two. Ian didn’t know the first thing about freshening up, only that women seemed to do it just when a man had something entirely else on his mind and in his breeches. He washed his hands and sprinkled water over his face, dried both, and let the maid lead him to the parlor.
    Corinna was watching the door when he entered. It was still disconcerting, seeing himself in this manner. But the expression in the Chance eyes was entirely hers, condemning and disdainful.
    “Gentlemen,” Ian said evenly, “I would like to speak with Lord Chance alone.”
    “Ian—”
    “No, Gregory.” She lifted a staying palm. “All possible damage has already been done this evening. Lady Corinna has nothing to fear from me. When we are finished speaking you may escort her home.”
    Jag and Gregory left without comment. Ian closed the door then leaned back against it. “I’m sorry.”
    “It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?” Her eyes were colder than Ian had ever seen them. But perhaps that was a trick of perception; the light blue emphasized her disdain so much more effectively than her hazel eyes always had.
    He stepped forward. “Not entirely too late.”
    “There is no such thing as a partial ruination of a woman’s reputation, Ian. It is either whole or in pieces.”
    “I can mend it.”
    “Oh, really? And when did you decide to do that, before or after you gave away my virginity to a reprobate just possibly even more despicable than yourself?”
    “I did not. I could not.”
    She remained silent for a moment, offering no evidence of either relief or surprise. “I see. Well, I suppose your masculinity is still comfortably secure, if not my future among polite society.” Her voice—
his
voice—dripped scorn. Was he that effective in sounding so disgusted when he spoke to her?
    He moved toward her. “You may not wish to hear this, but you have the ability to mend your reputation yourself.”
    “Pray, tell,” she sneered.
    “Call him out.”
    She blinked. “What?”
    “Call him out. Abernathy impresses the ladies with his charm and looks, but he has the heart of a coward. He won’t meet you.”
    “And what if he does?” she exclaimed, finally animating. “What if he decides he can best you and I am left to meet him on the field at dawn with a weapon I have never used in my life?”
    “He won’t. I’m accounted one of the best shots in the kingdom, and not unhandy with a sword. He wouldn’t dare.”
    “What if he does