That all depended on Aiden Trewlove. “A few more weeks, I should think.”

“If you’ve no objection, I’ll go to the estates and retrieve the hounds. But I’ll leave the horses, shall I? At least until we know the fate of the estates.”

“That would be lovely. The twins so enjoy riding, and the girls will be staying with me until everything is settled.”

“I do hope I’m not speaking out of turn here, but you are a young woman, Selena, and two years is a devil of a long time. While Lushing was fascinated by the rituals surrounding death, he didn’t approve of lengthy mourning periods. He wouldn’t fault you if you didn’t strictly observe them.”

She wanted to take comfort from his words, but she suspected what she was doing was not what Lushing had in mind when it came to not strictly observing a mourning period.

“I demand you forbid my daughter from entering this . . . this house of sin.”

It wasn’t the first time a mother had come to him to handle what she apparently couldn’t, but he did wish this one hadn’t stormed into his office near the hour that Selena would be arriving on his gaming floor—if the timing of her past appearances was any indication.

“Lady Fontaine, I assure you there is nothing a lady can do here that she cannot do elsewhere. At least here, I provide a safe environment for her explorations.”

“Her explorations? Sir, it is your explorations with which I find fault.”

“I do not involve myself with my clientele.” To do so would result in fathers arriving with shotguns in hand, waving special licenses. Instead he had mothers with heaving bosoms, lips set in a firm line, and cheeks of high color ignited by their wrath sitting before him.

Reaching into her reticule, she pulled out a small leather-bound book and slammed it on the desk. “I submit proof to the contrary. Her journal in which she has catalogued your flirtation.”

“Handed that to you, did she?”

The woman’s shoulders quivered with her indignation, even as she averted her gaze while answering. “No. I found it in a drawer amongst her unmentionables.”

And yet, they were mentioned. “What precisely have I done that offends your sensibilities?”

She snatched up the book and opened it to a page marked with a purple ribbon. “‘Tonight A. T. complimented my eyes. The blue reminds him of the sky as the sun bids farewell to day.’ Such poppycock.”

The words were a bit too flowery to have been delivered by him. No doubt he’d merely told her she had pretty eyes. But everyone was entitled to their fantasies. This girl wrote hers in a journal. Aiden painted his on canvas. Leaning back in his chair, he propped his elbow on his chair, his chin in his hand. “Why? Why is it poppycock?”