Chapter Twelve

A n hour later, Anthony joined his friend for an excessively late breakfast at their club. Darling raised his eyes from his plate and shook his fork reprovingly at Anthony.

"No, no, no. It was a fair bet, but I'm not giving up Jacinta. You'll have to find someone else."

Anthony laughed. "Relax, Darling. I've no intention of taking you up on your offer of your mistress. It just so happens that I found my Amazon."

His friend's face relaxed into a mischievous smile. "Do tell."

Anthony opened his mouth for a moment, then closed it again. He had sworn that nothing Cecilia had told him would pass his lips. And even if he had not sworn, he would be damned if he told Darling anything important. The man's mouth was looser than a whore's morals. "There isn't much to tell, Darling. The lady is magnificent. I shall leave it at that."

"Do I detect a hint of infatuation, there, old chap?" Darling asked, taking a bite of his ham.

"I don't know, Darling, and I don't care. As I said, the lady is magnificent."

"So you bedded her, then."

Before Anthony could stop himself, the words popped out: "No, I didn't."

Darling's fork and knife fell to the table with a clatter. "Why ever not, you great dunderhead?"

Anthony shrugged. He owed his friend no explanation. And he didn't have one that didn't involve explaining that the woman he'd intended to bed was a wounded soldier.

"You are giving the time-honored title of rake an abysmally weak reputation, Stirling! I don't care to see what comes next. Starting a charity? Taking a vow of abstinence? Marriage , for God's sake?" Darling shook his head in disgust and took another bite of ham. "The only way I can possibly excuse you is if the lady in question isn't actually a lady at all. No chance she's a man, I suppose?"

Anthony hefted his hands in front of his chest, making the universally vulgar sign for breasts, and shook his head.

"Ah, yes," Darling continued, "you did mention her bosoms before. Could still be a man, you know. The Greeks used to have a name for something of that kind, didn't they? Men with the body of a woman? Venus Androgynous or something of the sort. Worshipped them, if I recall."

Anthony closed his eyes and images of Cecilia's leg flooded his mind. Her naked thigh, bared up to the hip, and perhaps a bit further. Though his chivalry towards the wounded siren made it impossible to admit aloud, he had seen enough to know she was equipped with the set of parts complementary to that which resided in his trousers. "She's not a man, Darling."

"Pity. It would seem then, Stirling, that you've truly lost your touch."

"Hmm?" Anthony asked, his mind still occupied with thoughts of Cecilia's leg. And the rest of her body that was attached to it… If only he'd managed to "accidentally" see her breasts as well while she was unconscious, but, damn his newfound morality, it hadn't even occurred to him at the time.

"Never mind, you disgustingly love-sick whelp," Darling spat. "Are you going to eat something, then? Because if not, I'd rather sit alone and bemoan the loss of all my friends to matrimonial misery then share this table with you and your shrinking masculinity."

"I'm not hungry," Anthony answered with a grin. "I just breakfasted on coffee and stale bread made by the loveliest woman in Bath. I can't think of anything more celestially filling." He was hungry, truth be told, but oh how he loved that bewildered look on his friend's face.

Darling rolled his eyes. "Get out, then. Get out. You're spoiling my mood. All this tediousness has put me off my ham."