Page 33 of How to Tempt an Earl

“I know you well enough to understand that tense does not suit you or those in your employ. If you are determined to go forward with your plans of tutelage, and not seduce the lady, then you’d best seek the services of another female—preferably one of the willing widows at the club.”

Ian drummed his fingers beside his glass on the table. He had no desire to seek out another. It was a disturbing thought, but he pushed it aside along with the reason for his lack of interest—thoughts best left unexamined.

“The lessons have taken all my free time. If you haven’t noticed, I have much to do. I’m already behind on the club’s ledgers.”

Brooks lips twisted in a smile. “The ledgers?”

“That’s right. The figures don’t add themselves.”

That much was true. Business always came before pleasure. No one touched the ledgers but Ian. The arduous task had kept him up late on many nights. But he never sought pleasure or lost himself in a willing woman’s arms until he saw to the club’s needs first. This was the reason, Ian told himself, that he wouldn’t follow Brooks’s advice and go to the Raven Club tonight where lascivious masked ladies roamed the floor.

Gaming was only one of the women’s vices.

“If you’re not going to bed the lady, maybe you should release her.”

“Release her?”

“Her father’s debt is not substantial. You have more money than you’ll ever need. Hire another to instruct you.”

Ian’s gut clenched tight. “No.”

“No?”

“I said no.”

He could do this. He could spend hours alone with her and restrain himself. The kiss in the carriage was a moment of weakness after the intimacy of having her cut his hair. He was not an untried lad. He had control, dammit.

A knowing smirk crossed Brooks’s broad face, and once again, Ian knew he’d been provoked.

Bloody bastard. Ian’s fists clenched at his sides.

“Come to think of it, Brooks. You’re right. I am tense. There’s no better way to relive my stress than in the ring. How about we head to the club for a match?”

Chapter Ten

“There are rumors about the new Earl of Castleton.”

Grace’s lips twitched at the words whispered into her ear by her close friend, Prudence.

The two were walking down Bond Street along with Grace’s maid, Rose. The district offered a tempting array of establishments where a lady could shop. They walked past the newest attractions: a jeweler who also sold snuffboxes and seals, a linen draper, a furniture maker, a French dressmaker whose fashions were all the rage with the ladies of the ton, and an old bookshop whose shelves were crammed with volumes of all genres.

But it was the milliner’s down the street that was her true destination. Grace shifted the package in her arms. No one, other than Prudence and Rose, knew the true contents of the package.

At Grace’s silence, Prudence touched her arm. “Well? Aren’t you going to ask me about the earl?”

Prudence didn’t know about her scandalous arrangement with Ian. Knowing Prudence’s fondness for gossip Grace had kept it secret, but that didn’t stop her from feeling a felt a fresh wave of guilt for not confiding in her friend.

Ian would eventually take his place in Society. As her close friend, would Prudence be able to tell that Grace knew Ian as soon as he stepped foot in a ballroom?

A small lie could avoid future trouble.

If she told Prudence that she’d already met the earl—just not where she’d met him—then her future responses would appear genuine.

“I don’t need to ask about him. I already met Castleton,” Grace said.

Prudence gaped at her. “Truly?”

“Yes.”