Free How the Scoundrel Seduces by Sabrina Jeffries Page B

guilt. He hated that he’d given George a reason to deprive Dom of his rightful inheritance. He hated that he’d sentenced Dom to a life outside of the society where he belonged. And most of all, he hated that there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.
    “Fortunately,” Dom said, “I managed to send Hucker packing before Lady Zoe came downstairs.”
    “But he saw her enter?”
    “Almost certainly, but she came in a hackney, so he won’t know who she is, and he definitely won’t know why she was here.”
    “I damned well hope not. That would be sticky for her as well as for us.”
    Dom slanted a glance at him. “Speaking of stickymatters, her ladyship seemed awfully flustered when she left.”
    “Can’t imagine why,” Tristan lied. Dom would probably not approve of how Tristan had handled the woman.
    Not that it mattered. They were equal partners in the business, which meant they had equal say in everything. Tristan had put plenty of his own money into Manton’s Investigations once he’d returned from France, so Dom had added his name to all the legal documents.
    “What do you think of Lady Zoe’s tale?” Dom asked him.
    “I think it highly unlikely that her father acquired her from a Gypsy.”
    “Though if he did, she has a reason for concern,” Dom pointed out.
    “I suppose.”
    Dom leaned against the desk to eye him with rank curiosity. “Lady Zoe irritates you, doesn’t she?”
    To avoid his brother’s too-probing gaze, Tristan headed for the decanter stashed in a cabinet near the window. “No more than the average lady of rank.”
    “That’s nonsense. I’ve never seen you be anything but perfectly charming to pretty women, no matter what their rank. If anything, the ladies of rank rouse you to exert yourself even further. You flirt and you flatter, and in so doing dismiss them as anything but potential bed partners. It’s your peculiar way of keeping them at arm’s length.”
    Sometimes he hated how perceptive his blastedhalf brother was. “So perhaps I’ve changed my tactics,” Tristan said as he poured himself a generous glass of brandy. “Perhaps I’ve given up on hiding how much ladies of rank irritate me.”
    “And you made this profound change for Lady Zoe?” Dom lowered his voice. “Take care, Tristan. That particular young lady is not yours for the picking.”
    Tristan downed a slug of brandy. “I don’t recall saying that she was.”
    “You didn’t have to. I saw how disheveled she looked when she left here, with her lips reddened and her—”
    “Are you implying I did something inappropriate while you were gone?”
    “Did you?”
    Tristan scowled. “If you didn’t trust me, you shouldn’t have given me the case,” he said, avoiding the question. “But now that you have, I’ll handle it however I see fit.”
    “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
    “I’m not as bad as rumor has it, you know,” he grumbled. At Dom’s snort, he added, “All right, so I’m almost as bad. But that doesn’t mean I can’t behave myself around Lady Zoe.”
    “I hope you will. Because she’s the marrying sort—not the tumble-in-the-hay sort.”
    “I’m quite aware of that, believe me,” he bit out.
    “Although I suppose if your intentions are honorable—”
    “Oh, for God’s sake, you know I’m not looking to marry.”
    Dom blinked. “ Ever?  ”
    “I suppose I will one day, after the business is on a firmer footing.” He swirled the brandy in his glass. “But only when I find a pretty woman who doesn’t bore me, with a keen mind and a solid character.”
    “That’s unlikely to happen, when you only associate with featherheaded actresses and giggling opera dancers.” Dom’s gaze narrowed on him. “And might I point out that Lady Zoe fits your description.”
    Tristan glowered at him. “First you tell me that the woman isn’t mine for the picking, and now you suggest I marry her.”
    “I’m merely saying—”
    “I don’t see you rushing to