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"Look, Johnny..." His mother referred to him with that moniker. It was more personal, created a stronger bond. Rook suspected Aiden understood it was better suited to cajoling. "She's a spinster, never been kissed. She's waiting in a private room, her nerves no doubt beginning to fray as the minutes tick by. All you have to do is go in, take her in your arms, lean her back a bit, press your lips to hers, and sigh as though you've never been so entranced. Would that truly be such a hardship?"

It had been a considerable length of time since he'd been with a woman, so while it might not be a hardship, it could remind him of what he was missing and send him in search of pleasure—which he never did hastily because he had certain requirements he insisted be met. On the other hand, delivering only a kiss seemed innocent enough. "What's her name?"

"Haven't a clue. I don't recall ever seeing her here before. Possibly it's her first time to visit. You're dressed finely enough that she's bound to assume you're an employee. You can make up a name for yourself. Be whomever you like. Embrace the fantasy."

"What fantasy?"

"Of being a woman's dream."

"What makes you think I'm not already?"

"If you are, she's a secret. Your exploits certainly don't make the gossip rags."

"You read gossip?"

"It's the best way to know how to keep the elite satisfied. So will you do it?"

Unlike his father, Rook didn't give anything of himself—not even his kisses—to a woman lightly. He possessed a sterling reputation for treating ladies with the utmost respect. He never exhibited any untoward behavior. Never wanting to be likened to his sire, he was above reproach. He never engaged in shenanigans. This request seemed very much like something he ought not do.

Yet, in the farthest darkest regions of his mind, a seductive voice was temptingly whispering, Where's the harm in being a bit wicked for a few minutes? It's only a kiss.

"No one will know of this?"

"Absolutely not. Everything that happens within these walls stays within these walls."

"All right then. This once. But don't make a habit of asking me for favors such as this."

"Who knows? With any luck, it could very well turn out to be a favor to you."

What in the blue blazes was I thinking?

*  *  *

Leonora Garrison decided that she was stark, raving mad. Or drunk. More likely drunk. She was relatively certain the absinthe was responsible. She'd never before indulged in the green fairy—as some affectionally referred to it—nor heard of it until tonight. However, the name sounded innocent enough, but then the green spirit had cast its spell over her, and she'd had another. Then a third, and with the final glass came the courage to request a kiss.

Hence, she now was sprawled on the chaise longue in this private chamber awaiting the arrival of a gentleman to grant her wish. A maid at the hotel in which she was staying had told her about the Elysium Club and its reputation for fulfilling women's fantasies.

Leonora considered leaving at this very moment to return to that very hotel, but her legs didn't seem to remember how to work. Her bravery was beginning to waver. Especially as she'd been here for some time now. After twenty minutes, she'd stopped glancing at the pocket watch she always kept near at hand. Tonight it was in her reticule. She didn't want to know precisely how long it took them to find a gentleman willing to press his mouth to hers.

At twenty-seven, she'd never been kissed. She wasn't hideous by any means, but neither was she the delicate flower most men seemed to prefer. Having come from pioneer stock, she was nearly as tall as many fellows she knew, and they seemed intimidated by her forthright approach to life. She didn't mince words, nor did she engage in trifling conversation. She never had fanciful thoughts or partook in fanciful actions. Which was the reason that tonight's indulgence in the green fairy was so baffling. She preferred whiskey. Her father had always treated her as more of a son than a daughter. Perhaps because his son, four years her junior, preferred play to work while she preferred work to play. Which might have also contributed to her lack of suitors.

A light rap caught her attention. She shoved herself up onto her elbows to squarely face what was to come. Slowly, silently the door opened.

A man walked in. She shouldn't have been surprised. After all, she'd been expecting him. Still, he was different than she'd anticipated. More polished, more refined. In spite of the fact that he was wearing ordinary day clothes as opposed to the evening attire in which the other gentlemen here had been dressed, he gave the impression he would be perfectly comfortable dining with royalty. No, it was more than that. Royalty would gladly invite him to do so.