Page 5 of The Counterfeit Scoundrel
“I wasn’t born into their ranks, so absolution isn’t so easily granted. I’ll understand if any of you wish to no longer associate with me.” To be honest, he’d been surprised to find them waiting for him, a tumbler of scotch resting on the table before the empty chair when he’d arrived.
“Don’t be bloody ridiculous,” Knight said. “Your affairs are your business. Certainly, I know of worse offenses.”
He appreciated the loyalty, especially because he’d never told them the truth about his affairs. The fewer who knew the better. “Being seen with me could tarnish your own reputations.”
“Don’t make us take you outside and beat some sense into you,” Rook said.
“As though any of you can match me when it comes to fisticuffs.” At an early age, he’d learned the value of being able to deliver a decisive blow. He glanced over at the man who had become his first friend at Oxford. “You have a wife to consider, King.”
“Penelope will be the most loyal of us all. She never sits in judgment, doesn’t even peruse the gossip rags.” He grinned. “She prefers scouring through financial reports.”
He’d married a woman who, like them, excelled at investing. Anxious to turn the conversation away from gossip, Bishop asked, “How is marriage suiting you?”
It was a ridiculous question because they all knew the duke was madly in love with his wife, had been long before he’d realized he was.
“I find it very much to my liking. You should give it a try.”
“I’m not sure marriage is something one shouldtry.Rather, I think it requires a commitment, one I’m not willing to make. Unlike you, I have no title, require no heir.” Even if his current reputation didn’t make him unsuitable as a husband, he had a past he wouldn’t wish to inflict on any woman or offspring. He’d leave his fortune to various charities.
“It’s good that your wife lets you out occasionally,” Knight teased.
King scowled. “I’m not a pet to be let out. Besides, Penelope took a friend to the theater.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll leave in half an hour to pick them up. With my short duration here in mind, has anyone heard of any good investments lately?”
The talk shifted to various opportunities they’d heard about or been invited to join, but Bishop listened with only half an ear because his thoughts began to wander back to the maid, and how she’d looked somewhat forlorn when he’d first clapped eyes on her sitting in the hallway waiting for him to finish up with Mrs. Mallard. Then she’d appeared incredibly alert and a tad guilty. He wondered if she’d been engaged in naughty musings about some gentleman, because surely a man played a role in her life. Servants were not usually married, so she had no husband. But perhaps she fancied someone. Regardless, she was not for him. To flirt with her at all would be a disservice to her. She was in his employ. However, it was more than that.
He’d always enjoyed women. The discovery of what they offered was one of the reasons he’d decided to forego a career in the church. A man of God shouldn’t be a sinner.
However, as someone who grew easily bored, hecouldn’t envision himself being content with one woman for the remainder of his life. As a result, he’d never pursued a lady with the notion of anything permanent. He wasn’t certain how one even went about it, which was perfectly fine as he had no plans to go about it.
Chapter 2
The following morning, with a heavy sigh, Bishop glanced at the reports spread out over his desk, the reports he’d been studying for the past hour, striving to determine if he should invest in any of the companies asking for an assist. His neck and shoulders ached. He knew better than to spend so long in one position. He needed an interruption. Perhaps a walk in the park or—
Reaching back, he yanked on the bellpull and then began rubbing on his neck as he waited for his butler to appear. A few minutes later, Perkins entered the room.
“You rang for me, sir?”
“I could set my watch by your punctuality, Perkins.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, sir.”
“As well you should. Have some tea brought in.”
His brow furrowed, Perkins glanced around before leveling his dark stare on Bishop. “Are we expecting company?”
“No, why?”
“You don’t drink tea, sir. You have gone so far as to threaten to have me dismissed should I ever have it served to you.”
“Unless I request it. Now I’m requesting it. Have that new girl, Daisy, bring it in.”
Normally at this point, Perkins issued a quick, “Yes, sir,” and dashed off to tend to whatever business Bishop required of him. Now he opened his mouth, closed it, blinked. An odd movement of his jaw followed, and Bishop could have sworn he heard teeth grinding. “Is there a problem?”
“She is rather innocent, sir.”
“However, she knows how to pour tea, does she not?”
“Yes, sir, but perhaps”—he glanced around again at the room devoid of visitors—“a footman should bring it up?”
