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Alex looked at her enquiringly.
She eyed his slender form. How strong was he? “Could you help me move a couple of pieces of furniture into here?”
Leading the way into the drawing room, she showed him the pieces she wanted to move.
As he bent to pick up the other side of the chair, Alex’s loose shirt was pulled flat against his chest. Ria gaped in amazement.
“You’re a girl.”
Alex grinned at her. “I wondered how long it would take you to figure it out.”
“But you’re wearing men’s clothes!”
“Much easier for working on the farm. Cheaper too, as there are a lot of old clothes in the attic. I think they were my father’s when he was young.”
Ria was shocked. Though as she considered further, she could understand, and even admire, the practicalities of wearing male dress.
She looked closely at Alex. Now she knew she recognized her femininity, but in men’s clothes one just assumed she was an elegant young man who had not yet filled out. Being tall, close to six feet, helped her get away with playing a boy. So did her thin face and long narrow nose. The most feminine features were her long dark eyelashes and, most telling of all, full lips.
“So you work on your farm?”
Alex nodded. “Since I was little—my father made sure of that. Though it’s now managed by the same person who manages your farm. Have you met Mr. Button yet?”
When Ria shook her head, Alex blithely continued, “Like me, I’m sure he’s seen the smoke from your chimney, and if not, the villagers will have been tattling, so expect a visit from him today too.” With a smile, she added, “Welcome to Bishop Malton.”
28
London, March 1814
Luc took a mouthful of claret. The brunette on his lap reached up and took the glass from him. Holding his gaze, she deliberately took a sip from the same place. A few drops of claret remained on her lips, and she slowly circled them with her tongue. Her invitation was blatant.
He was unmoved. A common state of affairs for him lately.
He looked over at his companions. Devon wasn’t having any such problems enjoying his blonde. If Luc was any judge, they would be going upstairs any moment now.
He looked at his brunette. She wasn’t unknown to him. Though not a regular at this particular London brothel, he did come here on occasion and usually engaged Molly’s services when he did.
He looked back at Devon who’d decided to come with Luc to London and, rather than open up his own house, was staying with him. He said that, since Luc had sponged off him so long, it was his turn.
Then he’d laughed and said Luc was more entertaining than a Drury Street farce, and he wanted to be there for a few more acts and hopefully the finale.
Luc took another sip of claret. Devon had certainly had ample entertainment so far. They’d been out every evening and had a riotous time. Well, Devon and sundry other friends of theirs had, but not Luc. He couldn’t seem to get into the spirit of things. He had drunk and gambled quite a bit. But despite a number of trips to brothels with the others, he hadn’t gone upstairs. He’d either continued to drink inferior wine while waiting for his companions or gone home alone. He was starting to wonder if Devon was doing it deliberately, just to see what he would do and how far he could be tested.
Each night had been like tonight. He just couldn’t be bothered going upstairs. He looked at Molly. She was the best-looking Cyprian in the house, and he knew from experience that she was very good at what she did and genuinely liked it. He’d not have touched her otherwise.
He put down his glass of claret with a snap. Molly looked at him hopefully. Giving her a slow, rakish smile, he let her lead him toward the stairs.
Partway up the stairs, a shout of laughter made him turn in time to see a grinning Lord Ravenell at the foot of the stairs holding his hand out to Devon. “Pay up! I told you he wouldn’t be able to resist Molly”.
Devon slapped Raven on the back as he said, “Stubble it you ass! If he’s up there for long enough, I’ll pay you when he comes back down.”
After giving them bot
h a black look that promised retribution, he let Molly lead him into a dimly lit bedchamber. Like most of the rooms in the house, the walls and ceilings were generously decorated with gilt. The bed hangings, cover, and curtains were all red velvet.
As soon as he shut the door, Molly threw herself into his arms and began kissing him with enthusiasm. He responded, but Molly must have sensed something because she stopped kissing him and gave him a searching look. “What’s wrong?”
He frowned in puzzlement. “What do you mean?”
