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He did love the simplicity of the name of Simon’s gaming hell. “I’m here to see Kingsley.”

The scar-faced ma

n scowled. “Why would a gent like you want to see King?”

“Does it matter? I have asked to see Kingsley.”

“Yes, Your Grace. I apologize.” He started walking down the hall. “This way, Your Grace.”

The man knocked on the door and then slowly opened it enough to say, “King, the Duke of Worthington wants a word.”

A low chuckle sounded from behind the door. “Let my brother in, Hood.”

Hood opened the door. “Excuse me, Your Grace. I had no idea you were a relation.”

Harry entered the large office filled with books and papers. Simon sat behind the large oak desk, leaning back with his hands behind his head.

“Well, well. Isn’t this a surprise. I thought if you ever needed to speak with me, I would be summoned to the grand ducal home.”

Harry shook his head. “Indeed? I will remember that the next time. Pour me a brandy.”

“Not even a please,” Simon said with a low chuckle. “If I were to guess, I’d say you’ve already had a few.”

Harry sat down with a sigh. “Simon, just pour me a goddamn drink.”

“As you wish.” His brother poured brandy into two crystal snifters before handing one to Harry. “What is wrong?”

“I don’t even know where to begin. I’ve made such a mess of things.” Harry sipped his brandy surprised by the excellent quality. Then again, nothing about this place seemed in line with some of the gaming hells he’d been in before. His brother had turned an abandoned church into a gaming hell and then bought the rectory for his office and living quarters. Simon made his fortune by catering to the upper crust reprobates who wanted only the best, and the idea of gambling in a church appealed to their sordid tastes.

“Miss Drake again, I presume.” Simon sat down behind the desk and studied him. “How have you made a mess of things now?”

“Tonight, she happened to notice my rather large desire for her.”

Simon chortled. “Did she go running off afraid of the big bad cock?”

“I wish she had.”

“You didn’t—”

“No,” Harry interrupted. “She took matters into her own hand.”

“Her own hand as in...?”

“Exactly.”

Simon sipped his brandy, but Harry could see the laughter in his sapphire eyes. Harry knew this was a bad idea. Why would one of London’s most infamous rogues take his problem seriously?

“I should go,” Harry said as he stood and then placed his brandy down on the desk.

“Sit down, Harry. I’m sorry if I found this rather humorous, but honestly, I don’t see what the trouble is. So she discovered you lust for her.”

“She is supposed to be my friend, Simon.”

“Maybe she wants to be more than friends.”

“She has never wanted to be anything more than friends.” Throughout several drinks, he finally told his brother everything about his relationship with Louisa.

“A friend does not do what she did tonight, Harry.”

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