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He got his first reward when the carriage lurched off: She offered a hint of a genuine smile.
“Thank you for assisting me into the carriage,” she said. “That was nicely done.”
“I can behave,” he said. “I behaved myself with Lord B. I didn’t hit him. Not even once. I might have choked him a bit, but I didn’t hit him.”
A flicker of amusement. “How admirable you are.”
“And I was going to call him a pig, but I remembered your ban on likening him to animals.”
“Well done.”
“So instead I called him a poxed pizzle.”
She made an unladylike sound—repressed laughter, if he wasn’t mistaken. He was succeeding. He would play the clown and make her laugh. It was bad enough that he hurt her so much, without letting scum like them do it too.
He beamed at her. “Are you proud of me?”
“Immensely.”
“And how was Lady B.?”
“Lady B. is the most awful woman I have ever had the misfortune to encounter! She insisted it was true.”
An odd chill shivered through him. If Cassandra believed the woman, if that was why she was upset…
“But she had this knowing smirk on her face the whole time,” she continued, to his relief. “She even said it was romantic that her husband thought she was worth fifty thousand pounds! Heavens! Evenyouare more romantic than that.”
“Romantic for a pimp, I suppose.”
“For a what?”
“A man who procures customers for prostitutes. Did your governess teach you nothing?”
Half a smile. “I must have had a headache that day.”
Their eyes met across the carriage. If he really wanted to improve her mood, he would go to her, hold her, kiss her. And then—what? Then what?
“What else did she say?” he said.
She huffed out. “That she could not help herself: She was overwhelmed by your charm and consideration. So I knew she had the wrong man.”
“Indeed. What a shame women cannot give evidence in adultery trials. If she said that, they’d be laughed out of court.”
“Then she mentioned your birthmark, as proof that she had seen you…” She waved a hand at him, looked away, her color rising again. “She said it is like a little horseshoe on your right thigh. Is that true?”
He would be on trial before all of London shortly, but this was the trial that mattered the most. He regretted, suddenly, ever sleeping with any other woman at all. It was hard to imagine wanting anyone else now.
“Other people would know of it too,” he pointed out. “They could have told her.”
“The old birthmark-as-proof-of-seduction ruse?” she said dismissively. “It shows up in Shakespeare and folk stories all the time. It was merely awkward that I had no idea either way. So I said that was no proof and I asked her to describe your…”
“My what?”
With a pointed glance, she indicated his groin, looked at him, blushed, and looked away.
“My dear Mrs. DeWitt! I am shocked! Also, I am very proud of you,” he added.
Her eyes danced with mischievous glee. “I thought, ‘What would Mr. DeWitt say in this situation?’ and that is what I came up with. You are a terrible influence on me.”
