Kathryn Smith by A Seductive Offer

tone.
    “It is.” Before her friend could interrupt, Rachel continued, “For you. You were lucky enough to fall in love with the man who asked for your hand.”
    “And wasn’t it scandalous of me, too,” Belinda drawled, rolling her eyes, and Rachel laughed.
    Belinda’s love affair with her Mr. Winchelsea had set London society on its ear, it not being used to such matches among the monied masses. It was an odd society that didn’t even blink when couples married for fortune or rank, but thought it absolutely absurd that two people might actually love one another.
    Her laughter fading, Rachel smiled warmly at her friend. “I shall miss you when you’re gone.”
    “I shall miss you, too.” Belinda’s expression turned hopeful. “You must come to visit.”
    Rachel nodded. “I will.” Even though she knew she wouldn’t—couldn’t—not while she and her mother still lived under Sir Henry’s roof, and even then Belinda’s house would be the first place he’d think to look for them once they did escape.
    “I bought you a little something to remember me by,” Belinda told her, picking up one of her packages and setting it in Rachel’s lap.
    “You shouldn’t have.” Half-embarrassed, half-pleased, Rachel plucked at the cover of the bandbox.
    “Consider it a thank-you gift for being such a good friend.”
    Rachel loved surprises. It was one thing she’d never grown out of. In fact, the older she became the more she appreciated the random acts of kindness and generosity that went into a surprise.
    She removed the cover. It was the rose-velvet bonnet.
    “Oh, Belinda.” Touched beyond words, Rachel’s eyes burned and her throat ached. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
    “You can thank me,” her friend replied with a calculating smile, “by wearing it.”
    “Oh, I will. I promise.”
    Belinda’s grin grew. “The next time you see Lord Braven.”
     
    Glancing around at the many scenes of debauchery being played out before him, Brave wondered for the eighth time that evening if perhaps he shouldn’t have just stayed home. Everywhere he looked men and women were strewn about in various stages of undress, openly fondling one another. Some had enough courtesy to retire to their chambers, but few others seemed concerned that they were putting on a show for everyone else.
    Or perhaps providing entertainment was their object. Itwas really quite embarrassing. He didn’t want to be caught watching, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. It was like a terrible accident. One didn’t want to see the wreckage, but couldn’t help but look. What else was there to do? He certainly didn’t want to join in, no matter how many invitations he’d received from the women present. The idea of lying with a woman who might have already been with at least one man that evening made his skin crawl.
    “You look just like you did that time Letitia made us those hideous lemon tarts,” Julian remarked, falling into the chair beside him.
    Brave smiled. Five years ago, Julian’s youngest sister had wanted to impress her older brother’s friends with her culinary skills. The results had become a long-standing joke between the friends.
    “They would have been delicious if she’d remembered the sugar.”
    Julian shrugged. “She got it right eventually.”
    A soft chuckle escaped Brave’s lips. “If she’s half as stubborn as she used to be, I’ve no doubt she now makes better tarts than your cook.”
    Julian stared at him, his expression one of open curiosity. “Why are you here, Brave?”
    “I was wondering when you were going to get to the point.” Brave took a sip of his port. It was excellent. Charlton certainly knew how to entertain.
    “I do not have the patience for hedging that Gabriel has.”
    It was on the tip of Brave’s tongue to tell Julian that Gabriel wasn’t any better at wiggling information than he was, but decided against delaying the inevitable any longer.
    “I could tell you that