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“I must tell you; I haven’t been this genuinely aghast in almost my entire life,” a smooth voice spoke from beside her.
She turned, careful not to physically jump at the familiar voice. The Duke of Ashford stood only a few feet away, an amber filled glass in his hand and a deceptively bored expression on his face. His eyes glittered with something she couldn’t identify. Kitty crossed her arms even as her heart pounded at the sight of him. “You seem rather calm for someone so outraged.”
He shrugged. “I’m not one to make a scene of myself.” His eyes narrowed, even as the bland look stayed on his face. “Unlike a certain someone.”
She bristled inwardly. “I wanted to do something exciting to take my mind of things.”
“You picked a dangerous place to do that.”
“It’s just a bit of cards, Your Grace.”
“If you honestly think that is the only thing that goes on here, then you are far stupider than I gave you credit for.”
“You think I’m intelligent?” Kitty preened inwardly at his accidental compliment.
Ashford rolled his eyes before taking a swig from his glass, frowning at it after he downed the contents. “I used to.”
Boldly, so much so that even she was a little surprised at herself, Kitty stepped forward and looped her arm with his. “I guess I could allow you to protect me from the supposed dangers around here.”
If her behavior shocked him, he did not outwardly indicate and only looked down at her with a slight smirk. “I’m not sure I would be an appropriate chaperone.” He leaned down to whisper into her ear, his breath sending shivers down her spine. “Afterall, I am one of those dangers, Miss Highbridge. To you, at least. For all you know I could lead you right into one of Barrow’s back parlors and show you just why it is that men and women love to mingle here.”
He was trying to scare her off, she realized. It wasn’t working. That dim, heady image of him above her reared its head again, and she curled her toes against the heat pooling in her belly. “Maybe that’s why I’m here.”
He was silent for a good two seconds before backing his head away. “Nothing works on you, does it?”
“Not where you are concerned.” She grinned at her bluff working, even as she wondered just how much of a bluff it actually was.
He sighed. “Come along, then. I have a private table we can share, though you’ll have to suffer the company of my friend.
“If he’s managed to stay your tablemate, then I’m sure he’s a fascinating man.”
“You could say that,” he replied, leading her to the far end of the room where a sandy-blonde man lounged at a table with two empty bottles of brandy. His grey eyes lazily trailed over her form, though she could see the calculating nature of his gaze.
“I didn’t realize you were acquainted with her, Ashford.” He stood from his chair and waved over a footman. “A seat for the lady, Jenson.”
The lad nodded. “Yes, boss.”
“You are the famed Mr. Barrow?” Kitty asked, her interest perked.
He made an impeccable bow that would rival any lord. “Indeed I am. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Highbridge.” He tilted his head. “And what brings a young debutante to my grand establishment, without a disguise no less?”
“She is looking for some excitement, apparently,” Ashford said dryly as he guided her into the chair set out by the servant.
“Well, you could not have picked a better place.”
“His Grace seems to disagree.”
“Which is why he all but launched himself out of his seat the moment he saw you, I assume.”
She heard a quiet, irritated huff next to her and looked to see Ashford twitching his lips in displeasure. “You are very talkative tonight, Barrow,” he said evenly.
A surge of warmth went through her at the thought of him becoming so agitated from her presence, enough to make him act with such uncharacteristic haste. Kitty pushed the feeling aside. Another tendre for an ill-fated man was the last thing in the cards for her right now, especially over one who was definitely not on the marriage mart. Then again, she thought with a sidelong glance at his handsome profile, she wasn’t either, even if not by choice. A girl supposedly ruined and having no dowry to speak of would be passed over by even the most desperate of gentleman. At the rate her disaster of a life was going, Kitty would never feel the joys of a man’s touch. Unless…
“You have a plotting gleam in your eyes, my dear,” Ashford said. “After this stunt of yours, I am sure that is a look I should be most wary of.”
She blinked up at him innocently. “Oh, I was just deciding what game I wanted to start with tonight, and perhaps what other entertainments I could get into over the next few days now that I’m a scandalous woman.” It wasn’t technically a lie, even if said entertainments involved him, a dark room, and a distinct lack of clothing.
His eyes narrowed lazily on her form, a spark of warm challenge in his gaze. “What sort of ‘entertainments’ were you considering?”
