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refreshing?”
    She glared at him for at least a minute before her face relaxed. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
    “May I call you Marguerite?”
    “Why?”
    “So that you can call me Anthony and we can be friends.”
    She put her cup down and stared at him. “I do not understand you at all.”
    “You should. I’m offering to be your friend—or do you have too many of them to care for another?”
    Her cheeks flushed. “Everyone needs friends.”
    Anthony held out his hand. “Then good; let’s agree to keep each other company for a while. We can brave the stares of the ton together and laugh at them behind their backs.”
    Marguerite took his hand and slowly shook it. “I will come out with you on Friday night.”
    He kissed her fingers. “Good, I’m looking forward to it already.”
    4
    Anthony allowed his valet to help him into his tight navy blue coat and settle it on his shoulders. From Brody’s muttered comments, he knew he looked well tonight and hoped Marguerite would think so too. It was strange to be dressing to go out on the town with a woman. When he wasn’t at work or at Madame Helene’s, he tended to pursue his pleasures with a group of gentlemen he’d known since his school days—younger sons of wealthy families and a few upstart cits who were happy to pay their way to be included in high society.
    “You’ll do, sir.”
    Anthony winked at Brody who scowled back at him.
    “Thank you, I’m glad I meet with your approval.”
    Brody snorted. “Now don’t come back with those fine clothes all ruined, sir.”
    “I promise I’ll take care of them. I’m going to a ball at the Sutcliffs’. I doubt I’ll get up to anything too dangerous there.”
    “You’re going to a ball, sir? A real one?”
    “Yes. Don’t look so shocked.”
    32 / Kate Pearce
    Brody smiled and displayed several missing teeth. “Well I never. Are you sure it ain’t at one of those ungodly places where men dress up as women?”
    Anthony picked up his gloves and black cloak. “No, it is a real ball with real women.”
    “Well thank the lord for that. I thought the day would never come.”
    “Obviously your prayers have been answered; may I suggest you keep praying?”
    Brody’s amusement faded. “I will, sir, don’t you ever doubt it.”
    Embarrassed by the gleam of devotion and real concern in Brody’s brown eyes, Anthony turned away. That was the problem with servants who had known you since you were a child—
    nothing was sacred or secret. It seemed Helene was right and everyone was worried about him. He smiled. Perhaps tonight he would make Brody proud.
    He came down the main staircase, his attention fixed on buttoning his gloves, and almost walked straight into his mother.
    “Good evening, Mama, you look very nice.” He bent to kiss her soft scented cheek. “Are you going out or coming in?”
    She was dressed in pale green satin, with pearls at her throat and in the tiara in her hair. Her skin was so soft and unlined, it was hard to believe she was his mother. She had been only eighteen when Anthony was born, a bride of less than a year trying to deal with a household grieving for the loss of the first count-ess and kidnapping of the first-born son.
    “I’m going to the Sutcliffs’ ball.” Her expression tightened.
    “I suppose you’re off to Madame’s.”
    There it was again, that note of apprehension beneath her tight smile. Had his behavior become so predictable and extreme that even his mother had noticed? He’d tried hard to SIMPLY WICKED / 33
    conceal the worst of his excesses from her. He hastened to pat her hand.
    “I’m not going to Madame’s tonight; I have other plans. Perhaps I’ll see you later?”
    He felt her surprised expression follow him out of the house and into his waiting carriage.
    By the time he walked up to Marguerite’s narrow front door, it was already open. The butler who had admitted him and the twins on their previous visit bowed low.
    “My lady is ready, my lord. She