Page 56 of To Catch a Viscount

“Enough, Rothesby,” Andrew snapped.

“Really, Waters,” Landon scoffed. “You’ll have the attentions of both Lucinda and the mystery lady? That’s bad form.”

Ignoring the marquess, Andrew reached over and snatched Marcia’s hand from Rothesby’s. Then, as gentle as the duke had been, Andrew released Marcia’s fingers quickly, letting them fall on her lap.

Hmph.

“Very smooth,” Landon said dryly. “Very smooth.”

Yes, not only had he let go of her like her hand had spiders crawling upon it, but he’d gone back to staring at the dais with an impatient gaze.

Eager for the next fight.

Oblivious to her, when he’d been only acutely aware of Lucinda. Lucinda, with all her many, many curves.

And why shouldn’t he have noted such a woman?a voice prodded.

Unnerved by this sudden concern about where Andrew placed his attention, or rather, on whom he bestowed his favors and attention, Marcia made a show of staring at the two men taking up a place in the ring.

Suddenly, the violent tableaus that played out in this arena seemed a good deal safer than whatever maddening shift had occurred between her and Andrew this evening.

He’d chosen boxing.

Boxing had seemed safer.

There weren’t naughty trysting couples and gyrating naked forms and partners exchanging partners. All manner of wickedness and debauchery that were entirely too much for Marcia. That were too much for any innocent.

And he certainly wasn’t going to take Marcia to such places and sully her with the extent of depravity that existed, the manner of decadency he’d been partaking of since his university days, but also that he’d been aware of since he’d been a boy well knowledgeable about his father’s proclivities.

He’d promised to help her in her quest to take part in the scandalous activities the other half of society partook in. But he absolutely drew the line at those levels of sinning and planned to help her only so much before ending their arrangement.

As such, boxing had seemed safer than the other options. That involved just men pounding each other within an inch of their bloody lives.

What he’d failed to consider was the fact that those same fighters would be bare-chested, or that Marcia would not be horrified by the raw violence but, rather, fascinated by those powerful men.

Her initial horror had since lifted, and she now stared on at the fight, slightly slack-jawed, and Andrew frowned.

Periodically, she shifted in time to the blows that were flying, as if she mentally painted a picture of herself in that ring.

It was not, however, those fighters and her attention on him that merited the gut-twisting annoyance that night.

He observed openly the lively discussion between her and Landon and Rothesby.Rothesby, whom she seemed entirely too comfortable with.

In fact, Andrew didn’t even attempt to conceal his study of the pair, so engrossed as they were in whatever they spoke about that they wouldn’t have noticed Andrew if he were on fire beside them.

Which shouldn’t surprise him.

Rothesby was capable of charming every female from age one to one hundred.

And Marcia certainly wouldn’t be excluded from those ranks. Marcia, who, for her part, was as comfortable conversing with anyone from wicked rogue to ancient widow.

In that way, the two made a perfect pair with their personalities.

Every coin Andrew spent mattered to him. His finances were on the cusp of disaster. He wasn’t in dun territory, but he had enough debt outstanding to be in a bad way soon if his luck didn’t turn. As such, each wager mattered. Every bet placed he attended with absolute concentration.

That was before.

Before now, that was.

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