Her eyes widened. “An even split with a woman? Sir, you surprise me.”
Did she think he would take her expertise as worthless? “I have no difficulty believing a woman can be an equal partner.” He’d spent years being taught that by Isabelle. “We each have our skills, and together I believe we can make enough blunt to rid ourselves of one difficult mother—”
“And launch three expensive sisters.”
Lady Gwen abruptly grabbed his hand, shaking it while her smile transformed her face into one of startling beauty. Her features didn’t change, but suddenly they were animated with joy and that was a wonderous sight indeed.
“We have a bargain, my lord,” she said.
“We have a bargain,” he echoed. And to hell with Lady Meunier and her machinations.
Which was a fine thought until he spotted the damned woman walking steadily up the path and headed straight for him.
Chapter Four
Gwen saw LordSatyr abruptly stiffen. It was hard not to, given the expanse of sculpted male flesh on display. Certainly she’d seen men without shirts before—farmers and laborers—but never so close or so tantalizingly like the anatomical drawings she’d studied. She was so busy tryingnotto watch the ripple of muscles that she nearly missed his next words.
“Don’t speak of our plan to anyone. You understand? We need to keep it—”
“Good evening Lord Satyr,” a woman interrupted. She and the two gentlemen flanking her stepped straight into the box as if they had been invited. “I see your costume panders to the lowest form of entertainment. Are your guests amused?”
Well that was rude. Lord Satyr co-hosted this event, which likely cost the earth for one night’s entertainment. To criticize his attire was to show a level of ingratitude that was just mean. And if there was one thing Gwen despised, it was meanness. So while Lord Satyr was busy bowing to the shrew as a true gentleman would, Gwen pushed to her feet.
“If your host’s attire offends you, perhaps you should refund him the price of your admission and return to a location better to your liking.”
The woman’s attention had been centered on the theatrical way Lord Satyr had been bowing. It involved a goat-like prance and a bleating sort of hello. Gwen thought it very clever, but the woman was unimpressed. Worse, at Gwen’s words, she turned her hard gaze onto her. And then her eyes abruptly widened.
“Gwendolyn, whatever are you wearing?”
Oh damnation. She knew that voice. Worse, she knew those exact words spoken in just that particular tone of disapproval. She’d heard it often enough throughout her childhood.
“Aunt Isabelle? I had not expected to see you here.”
The woman shook her head. “And I thought you were the clever one.”
Gwen grimaced. She’d never been good with faces, but now that she looked closely, she saw her mistake. The woman in front of her wore a black lace domino like it was a fitted glove. Her mask did little to obscure her face, and yet still added to the woman’s allure. In short, she looked elegant, darkly beautiful, and had a tongue sharp enough to slice wounds.
Of course, this was her mother’s closest relative. Which meant Gwen would have to make nice or suffer months of her mother’s desperate attempts to force her to mend fences.
“Forgive my mistake,” Gwen said. “I have found my wit lacking of late.”
Meanwhile, Lord Satyr straightened up from his bow with a startled expression. “You two are acquainted?”
Gwen nodded. “Lady Meunier and my mother are cousins. She has graced our home often throughout the years. It was my father who suggested I call her aunt rather than suffer through the explanation of cousin once removed—”
“By marriage,” Aunt Isabelle inserted.
“Er, yes.” Gwen decided to leave it at that rather than ramble on about the intricacies of who married whom in her family. She always found that sort of discourse boring. Then she looked past the lady to the young men hovering two steps back and to either side of Isabelle’s shoulders. They were like brackets of silent handsomeness since neither stepped forward to greet them. And now that she thought about it, Aunt Isabelle had always had at least one pretty young man companion whenever she’d visited. Which brought her to the obvious question. “How are you two acquainted, Lord Satyr?”
“Old friends,” her aunt answered though the question had not been directed at her. “Lately turned absent.” Then her words slowed down as her tone dropped to a huskier level. “Though I am prepared to forgive all and invite you to a meeting of sorts. Early tomorrow morning with several bankers of my acquaintance.”
Early tomorrow morning after a hosting a party that would go well into the wee hours of the morning? It would be exhausting for anyone to attend, which was exactly what Lord Satyr said.
“I am terribly sorry, my lady, but I fear my duties tonight will preclude me from your most generous offer.”
Too bad that. He would need capital to make a go of his business idea and that meant working with bankers. Having Lady Meunier introduce him could make things so much easier, but he was right to decline. Bankers could be fussy with their money, and no one appeared to advantage after a full night spent entertaining people.
However, that wouldn’t be a problem for her. She was generally an early riser. “Might I go instead?” she asked. It was forward of her, but if she were to venture into business with his lordship, then one of them ought to take advantage of the opportunity. If it couldn’t be him, it might as well be her.