John Thorne said, tossing back his brandy. “I have come to Bath, of all godforsaken places, to please you and our aunt. Is that not enough?” “No, John,” Isabella said. She screwed her face into the expression he knew bode ill for his sanity. “You must accompany Catherine and me to the parties tonight. Auntie is a fitting chaperone, but we desire masculine company this evening.” “The hell you say!” John placed his glass on the side table. “I have escaped more than one grasping female this season in town, Isabella. I will not put myself in harm’s way here in Bath.” She slid him a look. “As handsome as you are, John, I daresay Catherine will be able to resist your charms.” “Catherine? Who, your companion? I haven’t even met the girl.” “She’s quite lovely, brother. And twenty-one, just like me.” His balls nearly shriveled at that disclosure. “Twenty-one? The girl will be on the prowl, no doubt.” He shook his head. “I was speaking in general terms, Isabella.
