Page 93 of Hollow Court
I tried very hard to keep to keep the horror from my features, swiftly moving down the list.
“Well then, what about Laird Gray?” I asked, subtly gesturing toward the man with the piercing green eyes. “He’s attractive and witty.”
“He’s got a great arse, too,” Gwyn added with a not-so-subtle look at said bodily region.
Davin scoffed and shook his head. “Every brothel this side of Alech agrees with you. Though they do say he’s a generous tipper, so high marks for that.”
“You would certainly know, wouldn’t you?” I bit out, irritability winning out over amusement.
It was bad enough contending with the sinking feeling every time I thought about putting myself at the mercy of another stranger without his oh-so-helpful running commentary and the unwelcome reminder of his extracurricular activities.
Davin raised an eyebrow at my tone. “While brothels are an excellent place to find gossip, I have never seen the need to patronize those particular services. Having to pay someone takes all the fun out of things.”
Gwyn snorted, but I only raised my eyebrows.
Strangely, though, I believed him. Stranger still, something inside me, something that shouldn’t matter at all, eased at the admission.
Gallagher made another valiant attempt to steer the conversation back around.
“Laird Gibson has—” he began, but of course, Davin cut him off.
“Halitosis and a drinking problem.”
“MacConnel—”
“Anger issues.”
“Ferguson—”
“More gambling.”
“O’Doyle—”
“Foot fetish,” Gwyn interjected with a shiver, and I decidedly did not need to know more.
Davin eyed the stocky man who was bellowing with laughter in the corner before he turned to me with a wicked gleam in his eye.
“Though, I would never judge you if that was something you—”
“Porter?” I interrupted, staunchly refusing to allow him to continue that line of thought.
“He’s…” Davin trailed off, and Gallagher gave him a challenging look.
My fake betrothed looked beseechingly at Gwyn, who shrugged with a rueful expression.
“He’s fine,” Davin finally admitted, looking like he had swallowed something sour.
“Well, good,” I said lightly. “He’s headed this way.”
Davin made a tutting sound.
“That’s unfortunate, since I require your presence making rounds.” He sounded as though it was anything but unfortunate. “Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of time to meet him later.”
Gallagher shook his head while Gwyn chuckled under her breath, and I took Davin’s proffered arm with something strangely close to relief. Therewastime to meet Porter later, and I had a job to do at Davin’s side.
At least, that’s what I told myself, steadfastly ignoring the voice in my head that told me I would rather be politicking with boring courtiers at Davin’s side than dancing with the man I should want to marry someday.
The Contingency Plan