Chapter 5

How can I ever be enough for a man of his appetites and desires?

~The Duchess of A

A fter a single day in the Duke of Argyll's employ, Cadogan had been to hell and back again and then repeated the same godforsaken trip.

All thanks to Lady Raina Goodheart—the ton's Diamond, darling, and ducal daughter in every way.

A walk in Hyde Park. A visit to Lady Jersey. Tea with Lady Cowper. A visit to Lady Sefton. A visit to the milliner. A visit to the modiste. A visit to a different milliner. And now…

"A Dialogue Between Clara Neville and Louisa Mills!" Lady Raina turned her latest selection around for her audience of two. "Well? What say you?"

He'd say after sitting through Lady Raina's reading of yet another selection—having been all but forcibly persuaded by the youngest Goodheart girl to join them in the drawing room hours earlier—the day appeared nowhere close to a bloody end.

Cadogan wasn't a drinking man, but if he were, this bloody day merited the entire bottle of Argyll's prized cognac.

"Oh, please do!" Lady Millie, the other Goodheart sister, seated near Cadogan's feet, appeared to be of a different opinion entirely. "Read that one, please ."

In fairness, it was easy for the girl to condemn them both to the latest miserable reading material Lady Raina selected, she'd spent the better part of the evening, seated next to Cadogan, sketching .

Her unflaggingly energized charge turned on Cadogan the same serene smile she'd worn all day. "Your turn, Mr. Cadogan. What say you to the selection?"

"Stimulating, as all your other selections, Lady Raina," he murmured.

He couldn't say what he truly wanted to say about her latest choice of literature. What he'd begun to think, however, for the first time since he'd taken a blade to his face, was that revenge might not be worth this special hell.

Her smile brightened, and she made to open her latest book.

Cadogan consulted his timepiece. "The hour is, however, advancing, Lady Raina."

"Ah, but, it is fortunate then, is it not, that one is never too tired for a book?" She inclined her head and the lone curl, artfully placed at her right shoulder, bounced.

And damned if he didn't find his gaze drawn to the crevice between those generous cream swells where that pale curl finally came to lay.

"Isn't that right, Mr. Cadogan?" she asked softly.

Perched six feet away on the stark white armchair across from him, he caught the glimmer in her expressive eyes, and damned if he didn't find himself battling the better place to stare—those siren's irises, or her ample breasts.

Lady Raina's smile slipped. "Is everything all right, Mr. Cadogan?" Concern filled her query.

Bloody hell, I need a woman. It'd been too long if he was lusting after a virgin with a taste for bad books.

He found himself saved by Lady Millie's yawn.

"Though I do concur about your opinion on literature," he put forward smoothly, "I believe the hour grows late for Lady Millie."

"Not at all!" Millie cried. "Please, Raina. Please , read."

Young sister batted nearly identical eyes at older sister.

Cadogan didn't stand a bloody chance against that.

Lady Raina beamed like the Diamond she'd been christened. "If you both insist."

He hadn't. That detail didn't appear to hold any water, as Lady Raina snapped her book open and began to read. " A Dialogue Between Clara Neville and Louisa Mills. Clara Neville…" The young beauty cleared her throat. "I am happy, Miss Mills, in having an opportunity afforded me, to have an hour's conversation with you…"

What'd begun as a lesson in restraint when she'd first opened her mouth to read, and her husky, throaty contralto filled the room, had since become a lesson on an entirely different form of restraint.

While Lady Raina droned on and on, he used it as a further opportunity to study his unlikely assignment.

This delicate lady who spent her days shopping, paying visits, and reading pious works, fit precisely with everything the papers had written about her being a model of ladylike perfection. It also gave credence to the duke's confidence that the girl would be married off any day now.

He grimaced. God, help the poor man.

But then, with her naiveté—all her hopeful talks yesterday of their striking an accord—

And there was also the matter of her glorious form.

His gaze, unbidden, locked on her ample breasts. God, they were made for a man's mouth, hands, and cock. The things he'd do to them. They were also the manner of debauched things some staid, proper, lord would never think of doing to the lady.

What a shame.

That you won't be the one to bury yourself ballocks deep inside her? Or that some other undeserving chap will?

Cadogan frowned. What the hell?

Mad, the inanity of this day had turned his mind to rot. There was no else accounting for his lusting after a bloody ingenu.

From over the top of her book, Lady Raina's eyes briefly found his. "Do you disapprove, Mr. Cadogan? You wear quite the scowl."

Oh, he disapproved of his body's response, all right.

Cadogan held her surprisingly, and impressively direct, gaze. "You just gave me something to think about while you were reading, Lady Raina," he said simply.

An experienced woman would have pinkened at the suggestive quality of his murmurings and tone.

His impeccable charge gave a pleased little nod.

She resumed her reading; effectively dousing his ardor. "A virtuous man will be contented anywhere; and he who is not virtuous has no right to expect the great blessing of contentment let him be where ever he may…

Someone tugged his coat sleeve. "Look at my latest drawing."

Ah, that's right. The assault on both sides.

Cadogan glanced at the other Goodheart sister.

Lady Millie turned around yet another picture for his consideration.

"This is my rendering of Paddy."

This one sketched with the same passion her sister read tedious literature.

"Another exceptional piece, Lady Millie," he said.

"Paddy is—"

"The Marquess of Guilford's adopted son who is near your age, though the actual date of his birth is a mystery as there are no records on his birth or birthparents," he recited those details with the ease he'd once shared reports with his superior: no nonsense. Simply facts. In doing so, one needn't get pulled into discussion or reveal anything more than one ought. Such had been a guiding principle taught him at the Home Office.

Alas, the powers that be within the agency hadn't met Lady Raina's ten-year-old garrulous sister would have given a magpie a run for its proverbial money.

"What I was going to say," the girl impressively managed to rebuke both with her gaze and tone, "is that Paddy is visiting the Royal Armories and I've been invited to join him."

Lady Raina paused in her recitation to give them a disapproving look.

Both he and Lady Millie inclined their heads in apology. When the impeccant beauty returned her attention to her torturous selection, the youngest Goodheart retrained her scowl on Cadogan.

"Forgive me," he murmured. "It was rude of me to interrupt before, Lady Millie. Do you have an interest in weapons?"

"You might say, more of an interest in using them, Mr. Cadogan," she whispered, and lifted her pencil toward her throat in a slight, slow stabbing motion.

He blinked slowly. Had he just been threatened by…a child?

The fire's glow played with the light in the girl's eyes, giving them a menacing glimmer.

He blinked.

The candles flickered, and illuminated Lady Millie's bright, innocent, expression as she now used her pencil to scratch at her lace collar. "Would you care to join us when we go?"

He glanced over to where Lady Raina still read.

Oh, all Satan's sinners, let her be married by then. "If I am still here then, I would be honored."

"In a private family what discord and confusion reign, where there is no proper governor, or director, one who has the command of…" Lady Raina's droning cut off as she yawned loudly.

Apparently, she'd begun to bore herself, too.

She opened her mouth to pick up once more.

Cadogan surged to his feet. "Lady Raina, this has been most stimulating."

Lord, help me.

Never having had a reason to believe in God, he'd never been the praying sort, but after this day, with Cadogan's next request, He'd make an exception.

"I trust given the," vapid, " full day you've enjoyed, and the equally full day you have scheduled tomorrow, it might be wise if we both retire?"

For a moment he thought she'd protest; for an even longer one, he feared she would.

Then, another yawn she swiftly buried behind her fingers, spared him. "Perhaps you are correct, Mr. Cadogan. It was a fun day, was it not?"

He'd let any number of lies fall from his lips, over the years; the following proved the hardest to make believable. "Most stimulating, Lady Raina."

There came a choking sound from the sofa behind him. When he looked over his shoulder, however, Lady Millie remained a study of concentration in her sketch.

The lady stood and sank into a deep, graceful curtsy. "Good evening, Mr. Cadogan. Millie."

Millie who'd stayed buried in her latest artwork, lifted her hand. "Night, Ray."

As Ray sailed by, Cadogan bowed. He watched her go.

Ray.

That moniker, though, suited to an effervescent diamond didn't extend beyond the lady's handsome looks.

Cadogan turned to extend a goodnight to the last remaining Goodheart sister who still needed to retire. Then he'd be free. One night done. Thirteen more to go.

If he survived.

Cadogan cleared his throat. "I trust it has also been a long day for you, as well."

Lady Raina's sister bestowed a giant smile on him. "Oh, no. I do not go to bed early, like Raina." She patted the place on the sofa beside her. "Sit. When I finish drawing Paddy, I'm going to sketch you, Mr. Cadogan."

Fuck.

As he found himself remarkably without a choice, Cadogan followed the ten-year-old Napoleon's orders.

Perhaps, this, his being made to shadow a colorless, naive miss about Town during the day and play nursemaid to her insomniac replica at night, was his personal hell for all the lives he'd taken.