Page 20 of My Hellion, My Heart
His eye roll was worthy of an ovation. “You don’t get to escape that easily, little liar, but I was asking how well you liked my new phaeton.”
“I like it very much,” she said. In other circumstances, riding on the high perch of Max’s fabulous new carriage would be thrilling, but once more, it paled in comparison to her private thoughts.
“The horses are new, as well,” he said with a wink. “Got them at auction.”
She frowned at her friend. “Didn’t you recently purchase a pair of Hanoverians? And I seem to remember hearing something of a new curricle, as well.”
Max shot her an irrepressible grin. “Well, I can’t have matching horses without a splendid carriage behind them, can I? This one was worth it, trust me. And I may as well spend my father’s money if I’m not going to inherit it. I’m lucky my mother sends me any at all.”
“Reckless spending isn’t the way to get back into his good graces, especially if he discovers your mother is secretly funneling you funds.”
Max laughed. “It will be a cold day in hell before the staunch and closed-minded Count Remisov welcomes this prodigal stray back into the fold.”
Irina narrowed her gaze on him, not missing the pained look that was quickly concealed behind his usual smirk. She linked her arm into the crook of his. “It’s been years. I can’t imagine that he won’t welcome you home. Maybe we should both go back after this season.”
She’d made this same proposal a few times before, but he’d always put her off. He didn’t wish to speak of it, not even to her. It had to be painful, whatever it was.
“I only look forward, my young princess, never backward. St. Petersburg is part of the past, and there it shall remain. And my dear father can go flog himself.”
“Don’t you miss them? Your family?” she asked as he steered the conveyance toward Rotten Row where a scattered few other vehicles and riders congregated. She didn’t miss that he had neatly sidestepped her question. His estrangement had much to do with his choice of lifestyle, she knew, but blood was blood. She’d give her own life for the opportunity to see either of her parents again. But then, Count Remisov wasn’t exactly the forgiving sort. He’d always been a cold sort of man, and he and Max had never seen eye to eye, not even when she and Max were children. The count didn’t like being embarrassed by his son’s proclivities, and when the sixteen-year-old Max had disappeared with a well-known Russian prince for a week, he had disowned his only son. It was why Max had moved to Moscow and then Paris.
“You’re my family,” Max said with a bright smile and leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Now come, let’s talk about something less depressing, shall we? Tell me of your new secret lover.”
“Max,” she gasped, swatting at him. “You are abominable.”
“Stop trying to elude me, my sweet. I know when you’re hiding something. A stolen kiss, perhaps?”
Irina bit her lip hard to stop from blushing. “No.”
“I will torture you until the end of eternity,” he said teasingly. “And it can’t be worse than the scandalous embrace Deroche claimed he got off you last season.”
Her mouth fell open into a soundlessO. “You are a shameless rogue to sink to encouraging such gossip.”
“I cannot control what people choose to confide,” he said with a dramatic hand to the chest. “Out with it, darling.”
“Oh, very well, if you won’t be deterred. It was only a kiss.” She wouldn’t give him a name, she decided, or details, but it wouldn’t hurt to speak about it. To diffuse the memory of it a bit. “One of the gentlemen from dinner last evening. It was…nice.” She almost choked on the feeble word.
Max squinted at her, and then his eyes lit up. “Gibbons! I knew you would fancy him.” He pursed his lips. “He’s not much of a catch, but is endowed where it counts. Or so I’ve heard.”
“Oh, stop!” Clapping her hands over her ears, Irina laughed at his expression and shook her head. “My poor delicate sensibilities.”
He snorted. “You forget I’ve seen you well in your cups,Princess, and your mouth is as bawdy as a sailor pulling into port.” He surveyed her and nodded approvingly. “This should move things along nicely.”
“What do you mean? What things?”
“The wagers,” he explained. “They are heating up at White’s.”
“How is it that you’ve gotten access there?” she asked, frowning. “It’s members only.”
“I have ways and means, little one.”
It did not surprise her. Well-accustomed to Max finagling his way to the most exclusive establishments across the Continent, Irina didn’t want to know what those ways and means were. He was attractive, wealthy, and had the right pedigree. His glib tongue seemed to do the rest quite easily, especially when it came to rich and connected patrons. “Who have you charmed this time?”
Max offered her a sage look. “A gentleman never kisses and tells.”
“Good thing you are no gentleman,” she shot back, shaking her head. “Tell me more about the wagers, then, if you’re going to be so close-lipped about your diversions after interrogating me about mine.”
“Let’s be honest, sweet, your diversions are far tamer than my own, most of which are not meant for such tender,delicate sensibilities.” He winked at her, avoiding a second irritated swat of her hand. “As far as the wagers, Bainley claimed the first. A stroll on the balcony at the Bradburne Ball.”
