The Dark Discovery of Jack Dandy

The viscount had to be a lousy card player. His cheeks flared red, and his left eyelid twitched.

All the ladies must find him so very attractive.

“Yes, quite right.”

Jack leaned back in his chair, crossing his right leg over his left as his hands dangled over the leather armrests. He was rather enjoying himself. “You are a friend of my father, are you not?”

If Abernathy flushed any redder, Jack could sell him to a freak show as “The Incredible Tomato Man.” “We are well acquainted, yes.”

“I wager it wasn’t he who pointed you in my direction, though, was it?”

Make that “The Incredible Lobster Man.” “Indeed not. I was given your direction by—”

“Don’t.” Jack held up his hand. “Who hardly matters. I’m more concerned with why.”

It was at that moment that Mrs. Dean arrived with refreshment. She set a silver tray laden with food and a large pot of coffee that smelled strong and rich on the table between them.

“Thank you, Mrs. Dean,” Abernathy said. “We’ll serve ourselves.”

She curtsied—ignoring Jack—and bustled out of the room like an engine with a furnace full of burning coal.