Rogue in Red Velvet by Lynne Connolly

force a smile. “You’re up early, Dankworth.”
    “I am, indeed. Or rather, I haven’t been to bed yet. I cannot imagine what I did before I came to London.”
    Dankworth waved to a nearby chair and a waiter brought it over to join the little cluster around Dankworth.
    Alex greeted the other men, all gamblers and rousters, although of the highest rank, which meant they had money to burn, and took his seat.
    Alex knew better than to wade in with his demands. It was hardly likely that the man would admit to the atrocities without compunction. The best he could hope for was some clue regarding her whereabouts. “Been around town since I saw you last, Dankworth? I saw you at Lady Roxborough’s last week, didn’t I?”
    “You did,” Dankworth replied. “The lady was kind enough to invite my betrothed and myself.”
    “Ah yes,” Alex took the hook Dankworth dangled in front of him. “I understood you were engaged to someone else? Mrs. Rattigan, the pretty widow?”
    Dankworth shrugged. “The match was suggested by my uncle. But we decided we did not suit. I fell in love with Louisa the first time I saw her.”
    “Do you plan a long engagement?”
    Dankworth shrugged and picked up his glass. “We don’t see the need. We’re signing the contract soon.” Oh yes, the bastard knew. He would dispose of Connie’s claim on him swiftly and then grab his heiress before she could change her mind.
    He’d see about that. While he didn’t want Louisa Stobart for himself, she didn’t deserve a cad like Dankworth. Nobody did.
    As soon as he found Connie and had her safe, he’d write to the Downhollands, who would have a great deal to say about the proposed match. He prayed that Connie had a clause in the contract so she could void it. Of course, if Dankworth signed a second contract before the first was legally voided, that would do the trick. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to the abduction, but needs must. If he needed to, he would. “Out with the old, on with the new?” he murmured languidly.
    Dankworth sneered. “Something like that. It would have been a perfectly adequate match for me to marry Connie. But you must agree that she isn’t the most exciting of women.”
    Alex kept his composure, but only years of practice enabled him to do so. “I found her interesting, attractive and a pleasure to talk to.” And beautiful, alluring beyond compare.
    “You sound like a lover yourself. Well, she is a widow. Fair game, I’d say.”
    A chorus of “Oh-ho’s” made the rounds.
    Despite his reservations about the earliness of the day, Alex accepted a brandy. He needed something. Fury roiled inside him and if he weren’t careful, he’d pick a fight and end up on the Heath in the morning with a smoking pistol in his hand and a price on his head. Dankworth wasn’t worth it. Alex had more important things to do.
    “Ripley likes high flyers,” Denbigh informed Dankworth in a sotto voce so loud anyone standing on the other side of the room could hear it.
    “One at a time and exclusive,” Alex admitted, “Even though they want to rule the roost. And although they are admittedly the most charming and the most civilized of whores.”
    Dankworth snorted. “They’re all whores. What does it matter what they’re like outside the bedroom? All I ask is that they’re clean and they spread their legs when I tell them to. I don’t expect good conversation while they’re doing it. In fact I prefer their mouths full of something that impedes speech.”
    If Dankworth had hurt Connie, he’d destroy him. And more. Jasper Dankworth would hang for his crimes. After Alex had killed him, of course.
    There was no stopping Dankworth now. “Virgins are generally sweet and succulent and they can be tutored.”
    “Plan to turn your future wife into a whore in the bedroom, do you?” That came from Fox, who didn’t sound amused.
    “Not at all,” Dankworth responded. “Respectable women have to be approached