Page 47 of Dangerous

“Gad, Exley.” Danforth shook his head as he approached. “Aren’t you beat to death? Are you sure you want more?” He stood back and took a few swipes at the air, as if to convince Adam otherwise.

Adam barely suppressed a smile as he watched Danforth duel his imaginary foe. “Make sure your mask is secure,” he cautioned the younger man, switching his foil to his left hand.

Danforth dropped his arm. “Well, that’s good! Bloody wonderful, in fact.” His usually mild-mannered face settled into mulish lines. “Are you quite sure you want to use your left hand? Perhaps you’d feel more comfortable using one of your feet?”

Adam closed his mask before grinning. “Come, come, time is wasting, stripling.”

The two friends were actually well matched when Adam used his left hand. Danforth was able to get in several touches, even without Adam’s complicity. After the fifth, and most painful, touch even Adam had had enough.

“Ha!” Danforth cried in triumph. “No doubt you will head back to the arms of your wife and drown your sorrows.”

At his friend’s words, Adam was glad he was still wearing his mask. The sensations that thundered through his body at the mere thought of Mia almost knocked him to his knees. For two hours he’d managed to avoid thinking about her and now he would have to resume the struggle.

He choked back a laugh. Perhaps he could stay at Bealeaux’s from morning until night, sparring until such time as he could reasonably go home to a woman who’d made it a condition of their marriage that he leave her alone?

“I say, old man, are you all right?”

Adam realized he’d been standing and staring at nothing. He pulled off his mask, brushed his forearm over his damp forehead, and looked at the younger man.

“Are you commencing your rustication today, or would you care to join me for a spot of dinner and some entertainment?”

Chapter Sixteen

Hordes of servants milled about in the hall outside Adam’s wife’s chambers when he returned home after a singularly unprofitable night at the tables. Danforth had been sitting on a pile of winnings when Adam had finally decided it was best that he go home and lick his wounds.

It was just past midnight, and such an amount of activity seemed . . . unusual. Sayer met Adam at the door and wordlessly handed him a piece of paper.

“What is this?” Adam looked at the small envelope with nothing written on it.

Sayer held out a pair of spectacles without needing to be asked.

“It is from Lady Exley. Your wife, my lord,” he added when Adam didn’t answer.

Adam scowled and snatched the glasses from his servant’s hand. “Thank you, Sayer. I know who my wife is.” He tore open the seal and unfolded the single piece of paper.

My Lord Exley:

You are invited to an indoor alfresco party for two in my chambers.

Respectfully,

Your Wife

Adam pulled off the glasses and glanced at Sayer but his valet was carefully examining his feet. “Right now?”

“I believe so, sir.”

“Do you think she wishes me to come as I am, or should I change into more suitable clothing and shave?” The question was only half-facetious.

“I could not say as to the first, my lord, but I’ve hot water waiting for you.”

Adam sighed and handed Sayer the spectacles and invitation. “What does one wear to an evening alfresco party, Sayer?”

“I’m afraid that is beyond my experience, sir.”

Adam snorted. “What good are you, Sayer?”

“That is not for me to say, my lord.”