Colin inclined his head. “Always a pleasure, Hal. Sorry to arrive unannounced. Hope you don’t mind the imposition.”
“Never an imposition! But gods, you did appear from nowhere. I didn’t even hear your carriage in the drive.” The man relinquished his hold on one of the ladies and gave Colin a genial punch on the arm. “The butler told me you’d arrived, and I didn’t believe him. Last I heard, that cousin of yours had you on a short leash.”
“I’ve slipped it, apparently.”
“Good for you. Your timing couldn’t be better. Prinny’s expected to pop round later this week. Girls, go find that puckered housekeeper of mine and tell her to ready Payne’s usual suite.”
“Yes, your grace.”
Halford sent the ladies on their way with a resounding smack to the backside. Then Minerva felt the duke’s gaze slide to her. Her skin crawled.
“Now,” he said, “let’s see to your baggage. Aren’t you going to introduce her, Payne? Don’t believe I’ve seen this one before.”
“No, you haven’t.” Colin trailed a reassuring touch down her back. “Melissande is new.”
Melissande? She briefly closed her eyes to avoid rolling them.
“Not your usual sort, is she?” the duke asked.
“I’ve always enjoyed variety. She may look innocent, but in the bedchamber she’s very surprising.”
“Is she, now?” The duke spoke to her. “Well, then Melissande. Surely my friend will have told you, we’re all friends at Winterset Grange. Aren’t you going to show your host a bit of appreciation? Perhaps you could start with a kiss.”
Her stomach lurched.
Colin’s arm tightened around her waist, lashing her to him and forbidding her to move. He said easily, “You’ll have to excuse her. She doesn’t speak a word of English.”
“Not a word?” The duke chuckled. “Parlez-vous francais?”
“No French, either. She hails from some tiny Alpine principality. Can’t even recall the name of it. They have their own dialect.”
“Hm.” The duke considered. “Fortunately, pleasure is a universal language.” He swept a finger over Minerva’s bared shoulder.
She glared at him, seething. Duke or no duke, ruse or no ruse, symposium or no symposium—Minerva refused to abide such treatment. Even if she lacked a proper lady’s beauty, accomplishments, and social graces, she was a gentlewoman and a free-thinking individual. She had her dignity.
When Halford’s presumptuous touch trailed downward, teasing toward her décolletage, she bristled—and smacked his hand away.
Then she bared her teeth and gave a little growl. Violence was a universal language, too.
“Watch yourself, Halford.” Colin tensed. No good humor in his voice now, only threat. “This one’s not to be trifled with. A friend of my cousin’s in the War Office asked me to keep on eye on her. There are rumors, suspicions. The Crown’s intelligence suggests she’s either a princess in exile or a cold-blooded assassin.”
The duke gave a bark of laugher. “Judging by that bruise on your jaw, my wager’s on the latter. But speaking of wagers, come along. Everyone’s in the card room.”
The duke turned on his heel—his bare heel, for he seemed to be wearing nothing beneath the banyan—and padded down a long corridor.
Colin and Minerva lagged several steps behind.
“Now I’m a cold-blooded assassin?” she hissed. “Where do you come up with these things?”
He shushed her, purposely slowing his paces so that they’d drop even farther behind. “It’s called improvisation, remember? I had to offer some explanation for your behavior.”
Ahead of them, the duke called out to a friend as he turned a corner.
Once Halford was out of sight, Minerva stopped dead in the corridor, wrenching out of Colin’s embrace. She didn’t understand how he could do this to her—be so protective and self-sacrificing one moment, and then so patronizing the next.
“I do not deserve this,” she whispered. “Just because I made the mistake of accepting your . . . attentions . . . last night, that does not make me a whore. How dare you lump me in with those debased women?”
“Believe me, those women would not call themselves debased. And what makes you think they’re whores? Perhaps they’re ladies, every bit as pedigreed and well-bred as you, who understand what you don’t. How to enjoy themselves. How to have a good time.”
“What?” She jabbed a finger in her own chest. “I understand how to enjoy myself. I understand how to have a good time.”
He cocked his head and drawled, “Oh, of course you do.”
“How dare you.” Now she jabbed the same finger in his chest. “How dare you bring me to this place and subject me to that leering, grabby duke.”
He grasped her wrist and lowered his voice. “How dare I, indeed.”
She didn’t have to see his expression to know he was angry. The fury radiated from him.