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air.”
    Philippe narrowed his gaze. “Tell Swann to take the turnpike before I leave you here to grub among the natives.”
    Lifting the hatch in the top of the carriage, Carlos passed the command on to the groom before resuming his seat with a smile that revealed a flash of perfect white teeth.
    â€œI wouldn’t complain at lingering an hour or two. There is a very eager barmaid who was casting her eye in my direction. She would no doubt warm a man on such a cold night.”
    The carriage swayed from the stable yard and began to pick up its pace as it hit the turnpike. Philippe gave a shake of his head as he resigned himself to a chilly, disagreeable night.
    â€œGood God, do you never think of anything else?” he demanded.
    Carlos gave a low chuckle. “That is your trouble, you know, Gautier.”
    â€œWhat? That I do not tup every chit who tosses herself at my feet?”
    â€œThat you don’t tup any of the chits who toss themselves at your feet. It’s no wonder you are so grim and cross. A man needs the comfort of soft arms to keep him in high spirits.”
    Philippe smiled at the familiar chiding. Unlike Carlos he felt no need to possess a different woman in his bed every night. Oh, he was no saint. And certainly he was no eunuch. He had bedded the most beautiful, the most talented and the most exclusive women throughout Europe.
    But his affairs were always discreet and conducted with the same cool precision he approached the rest of his life.
    The mere thought of a hasty tumble with some tavern wench was enough to make him shudder in distaste.
    â€œDo you have a point, Carlos?”
    Sprawling with indolent ease, Carlos gave a small shrug. “Only that life is meant to be enjoyed.”
    â€œI would enjoy life a great deal more if my brother was not languishing in Newgate prison.”
    The dark, forceful features hardened at the mention of Philippe’s younger brother. Not surprising. Carlos held Jean-Pierre in barely concealed contempt, considering him a frivolous dandy who could boast no accomplishments beyond dallying away Philippe’s fortune.
    Unfortunately Carlos was not entirely wrong. Jean-Pierre was only one year younger than Philippe’s one and thirty, but he had been absurdly pampered by their father. As a result, Jean-Pierre had grown into a man of weak character and dissolute habits who cared for nothing beyond his own pleasure.
    â€œJean-Pierre is always courting some sort of trouble or other, and you are always charging to his rescue,” Carlos said dryly. “It is what you do, after all.”
    â€œHis troubles to this date have involved moneylenders, illegitimate brats and cuckolded husbands, not treason,” Philippe felt compelled to point out. “This snare may be one that not even I can untangle.”
    Carlos remained indifferent. “You will find the means. After all, he is for once not guilty.”
    â€œOf course he is not guilty, but how to prove him innocent?” Philippe clenched his hand as he thought of his brother stuck in a rat-infested cell surrounded by cutthroats and lunatics. For all his sins not even Jean-Pierre deserved such a brutal fate. “By God, the authorities must be worthless lobcocks to believe for a moment Jean-Pierre could concoct such a scheme. The fool cares for nothing beyond the cut of his coat, bedding his latest paramour and paying outrageous sums of money on what anyone with even a modest eye for art would consider worthless tripe. Certainly he has not the wits to dabble in politics.”
    â€œNo one has ever claimed that the king is the most brilliant of gentlemen.”
    â€œTrue enough.” Lost in his dark thoughts, it took Philippe a moment to realize that the carriage had inexplicably slowed and was coming to a halt. “What the devil is the matter now?” Yanking open the window, Philippe glanced upward to ensure his groom had not come to some injury, before his