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as the predictable sultan’s tent, mock stable, and schoolroom. She went quieter still at the ordinary, tidily pretty bedrooms the women used for themselves on the next floor up, and abruptly, Gareth had shown her enough.
    Though he’d become familiar with most of the house years ago, even he felt like a voyeur among the samplers, cutwork, dried flowers, and embroidered cushions on the third floor.
    When he’d handed his charge into the coach, he took a place beside her on the forward-facing seat, as was his habit in his own coach. Miss Worthington bounced over to the chaperone’s bench, making him feel like he’d kicked a puppy and a kitten while several small children looked on.
    “Miss Worthington, if we have agreed to be physically intimate with each other, don’t you think you could bring yourself to sit beside me?”
    She made a face, but answered him by resuming the seat beside him. “This is more than passing strange,” she reflected, and it was not a sanguine observation. He took her hand, and in her preoccupation, she did not seem to notice his presumption.
    “I ask myself,” she continued, “is this what those women routinely do? They kiss men who don’t even know their names? They stick their tongues into the mouths of strangers? It is decidedly odd.”
    He laced their fingers, wondering if he’d ever, ever, in his distant and prosaic, not-much-missed or misspent youth felt the same consternation.
    “The ladies’ trade operates within a ritual that makes it less bizarre. There is flirtation, sexual innuendo, mutual assent, and stages through which things proceed. One becomes used to it.”
    She looked at their joined hands while Gareth braced himself for one of her difficult, fearless questions. “Does it ever become so commonplace it’s boring?”
    “Invariably.” And again he felt a gnawing sense of irritation. It was one thing to swive a woman, and an entirely different and less appealing challenge to explain swiving to her. “Boredom is why men seek variety in their partners, and fantasies to enliven their interest. They use drugs, spirits, toys, and games for the same end. It’s simply adult entertainment.”
    “It doesn’t feel boring when you kiss me,” she mused darkly. “I think you are accomplished at it.”
    “Your flattery, Miss Worthington, will surely turn my head.”
    They were quiet then, each rolling along in their own thoughts, hands joined in what had been a casual touch. She had graceful hands, and soft, soft skin. Had she been so rattled she’d forgotten to don her gloves?
    Had he?
    Maybe seducing her wouldn’t be all that much of a chore—not that he should seduce her.
    “What next?” she asked, looking at their hands as his thumb traced a pattern on her palm.
    “Where would you like to go from here?” he countered, dropping his voice and drawing her hand up to his lips.
    She snatched her hand back.
    “None of that. I do not know how to flirt, and I asked you a question. I cannot attend your efforts to educate me if I am in constant dread that this time, on this outing, or at this meeting, you have decided I must lose my virtue. I would like a schedule, if you please.”
    What a magnificent scold she was. He recaptured her hand, admitting to himself she had a point: she was innocent and ignorant, and all manner of ghoulish fairy tales were put into the heads of decent young women to ensure they preserved their virtue.
    “We begin this week with the business aspects of your brothel.”
    “My brothel! Oh, my… yes, I suppose it is. Hmm. Dear…”
    “If I may continue?”
    “Of course. My apologies.”
    So hopelessly polite. “We will start with the business aspects of the situation. You’ve seen the property, and you must have questions about it. We’ll need to familiarize you with all of its finances, its staff positions, its assets and liabilities. You will need to learn the client list, the current staff, and so forth. That should occupy us for the