Free Edith Layton by The Devils Bargain

either. The Swansons are keeping her a secret. My squiring her around London will bring her to the attention of many more eligible gentlemen.”
    Leigh still looked troubled. “And if she loses her heart to you?”
    Alasdair laughed. “She won’t. You spoke about my knowing which lines to walk. Trust me to know the ones I can’t cross.”
    “She seemed infatuated with you.”
    “Infatuation is no bad thing,” Alasdair said with a smile. “It can be amusing and, if handled properly, can be a learning experience so that when she meets a man who suits her, she won’t be tongue-tied or awkward. Infatuation can only grow to love if there’s fuel to feed it. Trust me, I won’t do a thing to nourish any grand passion. I’ll entertain the woman. But I won’t let her entertain any misconceptions.” He threw back his head and laughed loudly. “There’ll be no conceptions of any kind, I promise you!
    “So then,” he added, sobering, “if I promise to be good and bring nothing but good to her? You’ll stop trying to have her far-flung relatives rescue her from my clutches?” His expression grew gravely serious. “Leigh, I’m asking if you trust me. No. I’m asking for your trust. Do I have it?”
    There was a moment of silence, then Leigh looked at him gravely. “You’re my friend, and I have no friends I can’t trust. But what if the Scalbys don’t rise to your bait?”
    Alasdair smiled, and shrugged. “Then I’ll settle for merely ruining them without the joy of seeing their expressions when they realize I’ve done it. Half a loaf is better than none.” But his smile showed he wasn’t a man who settled for half of anything. “You can see for yourself.”
    “Yes, I’m afraid I will,” his friend said with regret.

5
    S ir Alasdair and Viscount Leigh presented their cards and then were left to cool their polished bootheels in the Swansons’ drawing room. It wasn’t a thing they were used to doing. Or a thing they wanted to do, either.
    “If it were for anyone but you,” Leigh finally said softly as he paced the room, “I’d be down the street by now.”
    “If I were anyone but me, I’d be three steps ahead of you,” Alasdair answered. “But I can scarcely come calling by myself.”
    His friend looked at him with bemused inquiry.
    “I’ve faced assassins in dark alleys and violent men at knife point,” Alasdair explained, “but even I draw the line. I will not take on the Swanson women alone. Apart from the fact that coming here by myself would give rise to even more speculation.” He shot Leigh a keen look. “You didn’t have to come along. Are you obliging me? Or playing watchdog?”
    “Don’t worry about it. A watched dog never bites,” Leigh said lightly. “I’m just interested. You’re throwing yourself to the lionesses. Such entertainment doesn’t often come my way.”
    Alasdair gave a cough of a laugh. He looked up as the door to the drawing room opened. Leigh stopped pacing. Both men stared.
    They were stared at, too. The three older unwed Swanson daughters entered the room with their mama. The popular quip around London these days was that one Swanson girl was worse-looking than the other, and the other wasn’t good to look at either. This morning they bore that out. It wasn’t their gowns, which were made by the best dressmakers in town. One wore white, one yellow, and one was draped in flowered muslin, but none of the gowns was flattering. It was difficult to flatter forms or faces like theirs. It wasn’t just because the women were large and ungainly, a smile could go a long way to soften anyone’s appearance and bring charm to the plainest face. But they wore identical expressions, and the only word for them was smug.
    Two of London’s most eligible bachelors had come calling. Whatever the Swanson daughters didn’t have, they believed they had what these gentlemen callers were after. One of these attractive men probably needed money, and the other had to have a