A maid showed her out. Sandrine stood for a moment outside the door, appalled at what she’d just heard.
Had the duchess really said she didn’t careabout charity? There was something very wrong here. It was high time to do some investigating.
“Stop dreaming about Miss Oliver and help me tighten this wheel.” Kenwick shoved a wrench in Dane’s face as they repaired his curricle in the yard of the Thunderbolt Club’s rented premises near Hyde Park.
Fair caught. Dane bent to his task, but his mind stayed in the gardens with Sandrine. She’d been asking him to check off one more item from the list of wicked things he’d like to do to her.
Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? It was beginning to be a sort of madness. He’d never been obsessed by a woman like this before. Here he was thinking of Sandrine’s shapely curves, when Kenwick’s curricle itself was truly a gorgeous sight to behold.
Painted bright green, with black and gold details, the panels and footboard lined with green drab cloth. The body was ornamented with brass moldings. The springs, braces, and jacks were all top quality and built to withstand strain and speed.
“Lightning Streak’s a beauty,” Dane said, slapping the wheel.
“I’m going to race it against Chisholme.”
“You know he’s not to be trusted. Remember how he attempted to sabotage me?”
“We’ll triple-check everything this time. He’s running around town making disparaging comments about Lady Roslyn. I don’t like it.”
“I thought you said you didn’t care for her in that way.”
“You know how it is with women. One day she’s hot, the next she’s cold.”
“And every day you care about her.”
“I try not to, but she gets under my skin, you know?”
“I do know. I know all too well.”
“We danced at the ball last night, which led to a private chamber. Seems she was inspired by Madam Avalon’s portrait of me.”
“You’re welcome. I’ve always thought you and Lady Roslyn would make a fine pair.”
“We’re always fighting. Except when we’re passionately kissing.”
“When will she make an honest man of you?”
“I don’t think she wants to marry me. She only wants to take me for a ride. But what about you and that Miss Oliver, eh? You’re bound to hurt that sweet little lady. She looks at you and wedding bells ring in her ears.”
“I’ve been very clear that I’ll never marry.”
“That doesn’t stop a girl like that from hoping that she can reform you. And damned if she doesn’t have more of a shot than any other woman I’ve ever seen you interested in.”
Kenwick held an iron rendering of the Thunderbolt Club insignia, a double-headed thunderbolt they’d found on an ancient Greek coin, against the door while Dane fastened it.
“There,” Kenwick said. “I’m ready to race. Want to try myLightning Streakagainst yourFirebrand?”
Dane didn’t much feel like risking his neck today. His thoughts were in too much of a turmoil. Sandrine. Blackmailers. He wouldn’t be able to maintain the focus required to expertly handle a horse and carriage at the speeds they ran.
“Ho, Dane!” called Dudley. “There’s a lady here to see you. It’s that Miss Oliver. Claims she has something urgent to say to you.”
“What did I say? Ding-dong, ding-dong.” Kenwick made bell-ringing motions. “First she ambushes you at your club. Next it’s wedding bells.”
“Leave off. She’s helping me organize the charity ball.”
“Is that what the young bucks are calling it these days?”
Dane rolled his eyes. Sandrine marched into the yard.