The Trouble with Being Wicked (The Naughty Girls Book 1) by Emma Locke

Author:Emma Locke [Locke, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Intrepid Reads
Published: 2012-12-08T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

“MRS. KENWORTH ISN’T the type one marries,” Montborne drawled, sidling up beside Ash at Lady Melbourne’s ball. “An unfortunate fact Mr. Kenworth discovered too late. But I’ll assume the resolve on your face means you already knew that.”

Ash kept his eyes locked on the assembly. He was a hawk surveying a field overrunning with mice. Mice scampering about with no cover.

Very little cover, anyway. Miss Smythe’s plunging décolletage at his sister’s dinner party was beginning to seem tame.

Damn it. He wasn’t going to think about Miss Smythe. Especially not her décolletage.

The marquis shifted to stand at Ash’s shoulder, balancing a plate on his arm while he juggled a glass of wine to his lips. He was too light in the pockets to skip lavish feasts like the one buckling the sideboard here.

After taking a draught, he gestured with his wineglass to indicate the assembly. Or perhaps to ask the greater question, What the devil are you doing?

Ash didn’t take his eyes from the field. The mice were plump tonight, and up to mischief. “Everyone knows Mrs. Kenworth is fast. But I thank you for your professional opinion.”

“It doesn’t take an expert. She wears her prowess like a badge. Which begs the question, why did you just dance with her?” Montborne waved a wedge of sandwich in her direction.

Ash’s patience wore thin. “I thought you wanted me to dance.”

“With your sister, yes. Or with your other sister, or with one of their wallflower friends. This is a perfectly respectable ball and you’re treating it like a brothel.”

“I’ve done nothing inappropriate.” It was London. The city was a cesspit. Even the reputable establishments brimmed with immoral women…and the men who desired them.

“No? Not with Mrs. Beckensdale at the theater,” the marquis mused, “or Mrs. Palmer at the opera? Lady Cresswell is said to have been spurred into a darkened garden by none other than the unimpeachable Lord Trestin. But I’m glad to know you no longer consider that sort of behavior inappropriate. Saves me a lot of time asking for forgiveness from you.”

Montborne pushed his empty plate into Ash’s hand so as to be better able to flourish both the wineglass and the sandwich. “For someone as experienced as I, it isn’t a matter of great deduction to conclude you’re looking for a lover in the most clod-headed way possible.”

“Or perhaps the company I keep has gone stale.” Ash raised a mocking eyebrow toward his friend.

“Cockstand.” Montborne grinned when Ash winced. “See? I’m never dull. And no matter how much you wish it otherwise, you are not the kind to engage in vulgarity.”

The marquis was enjoying himself a little too much. Ash handed the plate back. “All that your crass language proves is that our hostess made a grievous mistake in issuing you an invitation.”

“And that is why I like you. A refreshing change from my devil-may-care accomplices. Tell me, how is the mistress hunt going? Or are you merely searching for tonight’s affaire?”

“What I do is none of your concern.” Ash let another skimpily-dressed woman catch his eye as she danced by.

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