Once more, he set aside his newspaper, his gaze shifting to his cousin, utterly bemused. Secretive, he thought, certainly not. Rast had been called many things in his time—reserved, perhaps, but never secretive. For the most part, he considered himself an honest man, with a healthy respect for ...

Erastus glanced over at his cousin, who was engrossed in the newspaper, and feigned a dramatic gasp, pressing one hand to his chest. "Miscalculations? Oh, dear cousin, how you wound me! As if I would ever!" he declared, chuckling to himself before, as always, proceeding as though nothing had ...

Mornings, when quiet and marked by the absence of the Viscount, were always good.

Erastus woke that morning with a lingering laziness, unwilling to leave the warmth of his bed but doing so nonetheless. After the previous night's escapades, simply getting up felt like an accomplishment. He allowed ...