Candice Hern by Once a Scoundrel Page A

The Ladies’ Fashionable Cabinet last week. Won it from Croyden.”
    “Oh, I say. Forgot all about that business at White’s. Had a cup too many that night.”
    “And now he’s wagered the beautiful female editor for ownership.”
    Skiffy gave a shriek of delight. “Morehouse, you devil! A beautiful editor, you say? The spinsterishniece Croyden mentioned? Tell all, m’dear, tell all .”
    Tony opened his mouth to respond, but Ian cut him off.
    “And it looks as though your lovely dark-eyed editor has taken the lead in this challenge,” Ian said. “I can’t believe you’re actually writing book reviews, Tony. Book reviews !”
    “Stubble it, Ian. If you must know, it’s merely part of another little wager with the lady. And this time, I’m going to win.”
    “Oh?” Ian’s face split into a grin. “And what will be your prize?”
    “It’s private.”
    Another shriek from Skiffy pierced the air and was followed by a sputtering chortle from Ian.
    “Private stakes with a beautiful lady?” Skiffy asked, his eyes sparkling. “Oh, do tell. What shall you win? Something wonderfully improper, I have no doubt. A silk garter, perhaps? A corset busk? A kiss ?”
    “Come on, old man,” Ian said. “Give us a look at your book. I have no doubt the wager is logged and initialed, all very proper. Hand it over.”
    Tony gave a resigned sigh. It was no use. They would wheedle it out of him one way or another. A tiny, almost imperceptible pang of caution made him want to keep everything about Edwina Parrish to himself, but he brushed it aside. Instead, he reached into his breast pocket, pulled out the betting book, and handed it to Skiffy, who stood closest. His lordship flipped pages, stopping to read once or twice and giving little grunts of interest. When he got to the last page he read it aloud, then looked up, his brow furrowed in puzzlement.
    “Have you lost a screw, old chap? A roman head? You did this”—he pointed to the pages Ian was still holding—“only to see some musty old head?”
    “Not simply to see it,” Tony said. “You will note that I am to be allowed to see it in its usual place of display.”
    “And that is?”
    “Her bedchamber.”
    Ian gave a bark of laughter, and Skiffy laughed so hard he had to sit down, and seemed not to notice the telltale sound of a ripped seam.
     
    “This is quite good,” Prudence said. “Excellent, in fact. Yes, I do indeed believe it is suitable for the Cabinet .”
    Edwina sighed. “Thank you, Prudence. I appreciate your opinion. I won’t keep you any longer. I know you are anxious to meet with Mrs. Dillard about her advertisement.”
    Prudence nodded, slanted a quick glance toward Anthony, and left the office. She made sure, Edwina was amused to note, to leave the door conspicuously ajar behind her.
    Edwina ought to have known the provoking man would pen a perfectly beautiful essay, with just theright balance of critical evaluation and personal insight. He’d also included astute comparisons to other works, indicating a greater familiarity with the subject matter than she had expected. Though perhaps she should not be so surprised.
    He might be little more than a gamester now, but he had once been a studious young boy with a passion for ancient cultures. She remembered when he’d first shown her the Minerva. He’d been so proud and excited that it had been found in a riverbed on his father’s estate. He had gone on and on about Roman Britain and the significance of the little gilt bronze head. He’d obviously done a great deal of study on the subject.
    And so the core of that young boy lived on in the man, buried deep beneath frivolity and recklessness. But the essay showed he could still mine that core, could still be a critical thinker and appreciate academic study.
    She experienced a tiny moment of smug satisfaction for bringing back the boy, if only for a moment.
    Anthony was quite obviously feeling a touch of satisfaction himself. A cocky