Which was good for business. Ensured they’d return.

A footman came by, refilled her wineglass, and went on his way. She didn’t object, and he suspected she was beginning to feel a bit more relaxed. Reaching for her free hand, he began rolling her glove down past her elbow. Why did ladies wear frocks that exposed their arms and then add an accessory to hide them?

“What are you doing?” she asked, and he heard a measure of alarm in her voice.

“Gloves are a nuisance.”

She closed her fingers into an ineffectual fist. “Please don’t remove them.”

He thought of the ring that might be recognizable to those who knew her. “We could place your ring inside one of the gloves. It would be safe there. We have no thieves here. Or I could tuck it into one of my pockets.”

She shook her head, and he wondered about the man who had placed it on her finger, and how she wanted it to remain there. If she loved him, would she be here? Hell, Lady Aslyn visited on occasion and she adored his brother. Sometimes a lady just needed to escape for a while.

He rolled the glove back into place, trailing his finger along the soft flesh of the inside of her arm where the glove did not reach. “I’m waiting, sweetheart, for your story.”

She brought the glass to her lips, delaying the telling, and he rather regretted not deigning to join her, but he did have a rule about not becoming overly familiar with his guests because fraternizing too much wasn’t good for business. Like his siblings, he was very much aware that his fortunes rested on taking care of his enterprises. Those in his family were born of scandal, and it still dogged their heels, and while he sometimes skirted the edge of impropriety, he didn’t do it here, never here. Yet she tempted him in ways no other woman ever had.

After licking her lips, she turned her attention to the shadows. “I told you of the clover.”

“You’ve more interesting tales than that.”

Her gaze swung back around to him. “Not really. It’s the reason I’m here.”

Not for a single minute did he believe she was as boring as all that, but he also knew when not to push. “Finish off your wine. I’ll show you another room of entertainment.”

He liked watching the way her delicate throat muscles worked as she swallowed. There was not a solitary aspect to her that did not draw him in. He wondered if he took her to a room cloaked in blackness if she would remove the mask and allow him to outline her features with his fingertips. He’d always had a knack for drawing things and thought if he traced her features, he could transfer them to paper.