A Regency Courtesan's Pride. Ann Lethbridge

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      A muscle flickered in his jaw. His lip curled in derision. ‘I’m not green, Miss Draycott. Or wet behind the ears. Nor do I have my mother’s milk still on my lips, my dear. I know exactly what you are up to. And it won’t wash.’

      Inside she shrank from the bitterness in his quiet voice; on the outside she kept her back straight and her expression disdainful. ‘Doing it rather brown, Charlie. You forced your way into my business uninvited, you know.’

      ‘You asked me to pretend to be your fiancé.’ He said the words as if they tasted of poison.

      ‘For a few days,’ she said warily.

      ‘Let us hope Broadoaks is good to his word and keeps a still tongue in his head or Chepstow will be on my father’s doorstep tomorrow morning. And won’t that stir up an ant’s nest?’

      What on earth was he raving about? ‘The Earl of Chepstow barely acknowledges my existence.’

      ‘Believe me, that will change if this betrothal comes to his ears. He’ll care enough to learn I have been living at your house. A house full of prostitutes, no less.’

      ‘They are not prostitutes.’

      He raised a cynical brow. ‘I know when I am being propositioned.’

      She gave him a slit-eyed look. Did he mean her?

      ‘I’m talking about Jane,’ he said.

      ‘I told you, I don’t think she is going to stay. In fact, I had already decided to talk to Caro about her leaving as soon as we get back.’

      ‘Stop avoiding the issue at hand.’ He leaned against the seat back, a hard smile thinning his lips. ‘Oh, Merry, I’ll admit you are good. Chepstow’s niece, for God’s sake. All that straightforward honest stuff really had me fooled. But I’m wise to you now. So let’s just deal with the business at hand and we can end this farce and go our separate ways.’