“I can see that they have no offers at all.” The low menacing threat stopped her in her tracks.

Slowly she turned and impaled with her eyes this vile blackguard, and she found herself grateful he’d had no part in Aiden’s upbringing. “I fear, my lord, that you have underestimated my influence. While I may no longer have a duke at my side, I am still the Duchess of Lushing and I am fully capable of seeing to the needs of my family. I warn you, sir, that you do not want to incur my wrath.”

With that, she quit the room.

From the moment she’d left Elverton’s presence, she’d debated whether to tell Aiden of his father’s visit, but finally decided against mentioning it, fearing only ill would come of his learning of the earl’s further pursuit of her. Certainly she had made her position clear. She had no interest in the man, would not entertain the notion of having him in her life in any intimate capacity, whether as a mistress or a wife.

It was a challenge to reconcile the odious behavior of the Earl of Elverton against the goodness that was his son. If there was an argument to be made against children born out of wedlock being the carriers of their parents’ immoral behavior, surely Aiden and his father served as the perfect example to exemplify John Locke’s theory that at birth a babe’s mind was a blank slate. Other than the shade of his eyes, his jaw, his brow, Aiden in no way resembled his father. He was all that was good.

Even if he owned a den of iniquity, a den she entered with a great deal of anticipation. After handing her wrap off to the young woman at the front counter, she wandered into the gaming area and spotted Aiden immediately. In spite of there being other gents in the room, he stood out as though he alone occupied the entire space. It wasn’t his height or breadth that gave him an advantage, but his very presence that spoke volumes, reflected a man of both confidence and daring.

He was speaking with a younger man, but as though her appearance carried weight as well, he glanced over, and she could see the slow lift of one corner of his mouth. With a nod, he patted the younger man’s shoulder before beginning to make his way to her, never breaking his stride in spite of acknowledging the ladies here and there, even bending over to whisper something to one of them. Jealousy was a sharp spear, but she deflected it before it could do any damage. She had little doubt he would be whispering a great deal more in her ear later, words far more delicious than what he might have shared with one of his customers.