Maggie MacKeever by Quin Read Free Book Online Page B

sufficient cream,” said Quin, “she will keep her claws sheathed. If I may continue? The servants realize there is a stranger in the house. I propose we explain Kate as one of your conquests. You have so many conquests no one will find it of especial interest if you acquire one more.”
    “But Miss Fletcher!” protested Beau.
    Quin spread butter on a slice of toast. “Miss Fletcher’s interest will be piqued.”
    “Excuse me,” broke in Kate, not best pleased by this cavalier disposal of her person. “If I am to be Mr. Loversall’s latest, ah, light o’ love, wouldn’t I be more likely to be residing beneath his roof?”
    “But this ismy roof!” argued that gentleman. “Or it was, as near as doesn’t count. I think too highly of you to introduce you into a bachelor establishment, you see. And under the circumstances, I think you should call me Beau.”
    “ This is a bachelor establishment,” Kate pointed out.
    “No,” retorted Beau, “this is a gaming hell. And you, it would appear, are a fille de joie . In which case, I question why I would leave my fille de joie beneath the same roof as Quin.”
    “You trust me?” Quin suggested.
    “In a pig’s eye,” snorted Beau.
    Kate stared at the linen tablecloth. Truth be told, she wanted to be beneath no roof save Quin’s. But Quin had neither mistresses nor relationships lasting more than a few hours. Was that what she desired for herself?
    If only she could forget the feeling of his fingers stroking her foot. The memory made her squirm.
    Both men were watching her. “I could have had an affaire with Quin at some point in the past,” Kate offered. “Immoral creature that I am. Consequently we are both immune.”
    Beau said thoughtfully, “It might serve. Quin retains some vague fondness for you — oh yes, I grasp the reasoning behind this subterfuge — while I am quite épris. ” Head tilted to one side, he studied Kate. “No one will believe I am épris over anyone dressed as unfashionably as you are. I shall take you to Mme Dubois, which will give additional credence to our tale.”
     “But I am in mourning!” Kate objected. “Under the circumstances, it is hardly proper for me—”
    “Under the circumstances,” Quin broke in, “it is beyond hypocritical for you to preach propriety.”
    Kate clenched her hands in her lap, lest she hurl the jam pot at his provoking head.
     
    Chapter Eleven
     
    Quin might have, had he cared to do so, counted numerous instances of ill-judgment made during the course of his career. None had been so momentous as his purchase of a gaming hell. With Moxley’s had come responsibilities. People depended on him for their livelihood.
    He stopped by the hazard table where, to the astonishment of everyone assembled, he went down fifty pounds. It was not Quin’s custom to lose. Nor was it his habit to care one way or another whether Dame Fortune smiled or frowned.
    Rather, it had not been his habit. Lately he had come to think he preferred to keep his fortune intact.
    Quin suspected this about-face had to do with Kate. Precisely what it had to do with Kate, he could not say.
    Did not care to say.
    He was not accustomed to so much introspection.
    Sobriety was not for the faint of heart.
    He was called away from the hazard table by an altercation at the front door, where a band of drunken bucks were belligerently demanding feminine companionship, result of Coffey having told them whores of great skill and inventiveness worked within. It was damned mean-spirited of Quin to refuse to share, they stated, lightskirts being in the habit of serving themselves up to him on silver platters, while lesser mortals were expected to pay the going price. The bucks were persuaded to depart, at length and with lust left unslaked, only after Samson rolled up his sleeves and announced he was of a mind to break some heads. As result of this and other irritations, the hour was later than usual when Quin made his way to his