They were probably right.
“I believe everyone has heard about Cassandra.” For once, a hint of admiration laced Michael’s voice. He leaned forward, rampant curiosity in his warm blue eyes. “What’s she like?”
Dylan shrugged. “Beautiful. Sensual. Wildly imaginative.”
Michael sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I envy you. It must be nice to have a woman you can relax and be yourself around. Perhaps I’ll take a mistress as well, after I’m wed.”
A woman you can be yourself around. What a fascinating concept. Dylan decided not to inform his brother he’d never found any such thing. The women he met expected him to be the hero they read about in the papers. He’d never had the courage to disappoint them.
“Why wait until after the wedding?” Dylan asked, truly curious. “Why not take a mistress now?”
“I can’t afford even the hint of a scandal,” Michael explained, an odd note in his voice. “Not if I’m to win the duke’s daughter.”
Dylan kept his opinions of his brother’s hypocrisy to himself. He finished his breakfast, and then bid Michael farewell. As he hurried from the house, he cursed beneath his breath. Of all the girls in London, why did this bet have to center around the oneMichaelwanted?
He wondered if Jonathan knew about Michael’s interest in Lady Natalia. Had the fop put Dylan at odds with his brother on purpose?
The wisest thing to do, given this new information, would be to bow out gracefully and let Jonathan win the infernal wager. He’d come up with the money somehow, even if it meant going to his father.
But as soon as the thought occurred, he dismissed it. He’d never been one to simply give up, and he’d be damned if he’d start now.
Besides, the girl intrigued him, and he was tired of stepping aside for his brother. Perhaps he needed to prove to himself that he could be first insomeone’sheart.
Chapter Four
Dylan spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon at his club. He drank, played cards with Basingstoke, and tried to pretend nothing was wrong. He laughed off questions about the wager with a confidence he didn't feel.
In truth, the thought of competing with Michael terrified him. After all, he’d been compared to his perfect brother all his life. And all his life, he’d come up lacking.
As he left the club, he railed inwardly against his father for promoting such a strong rivalry between his sons. Dylan had always hated himself for his driving need to beat Michael, especially since Michael seemed beyond such petty behavior.
Then again, Michael didn’t need to compete, since he always won without effort.
Sighing, Dylan hailed the nearest hack, gave the driver his address, and then settled back in the stained seat for the long ride home. Fleet Street was a long way from Pall Mall,
Evening had already descended by the time he reached the rundown yet painfully clean boarding house where he’d taken a room. Well into his cups, he decided to take the back stairs in order to avoid his landlady, Mrs. Loretta Tweed.
He was late with his rent again and had no idea how he would pay if he didn’t win this bet. He wasn’t due to receive his quarterly allowance from his father for another month.
Unfortunately, Loretta lay in wait for him. By the time he got to his room on the second floor, she was marching up the front stairs.
“Captain Blake!” she called, giving him no chance to pretend he didn’t see her. “Might I have a quick word with you, sir?”
Dylan sighed and pressed his forehead to the scarred wooden door for a moment, trying to summon the charm that had worked so well for him in the past. Turning, he pasted on a smile. “Loretta. How nice to see your lovely face.”
Grossly overweight and near fifty, Loretta had never been lovely. Still, his compliments usually managed to buy him some time.
“Don’t you try to charm me, you naughty boy.” She mounted the last few stairs and bustled toward him, her breath hitching from her exertion. “You know you’re over two weeks late with the rent.”
Dylan smiled wider, his mouth aching with the effort. “Am I? So sorry, my love. A mere oversight. I’ll have the funds for you in the morning.”
“That’s what you said last week.” She gave him a weary shake of her head. “I can’t keep letting you slide, even if you are gorgeous as sin. I’ve got bills of my own to pay.”
Too tired to keep up the pretense, Dylan let the smile slip from his lips. “I know, Loretta. I’m truly sorry. I’ll get the money somehow. I swear I will.”
She stared at him for a long moment, then nodded and gave him a wan smile of her own. “Just try and have the money for me by the end of the month. Otherwise, I’ll have to evict you.”
He watched her trudge back toward the stairs. She’d given him more of a reprieve than he deserved. He felt guilty for taking advantage of her generous nature.
