Nash lifted the crystal tumbler to his lips and paused when a gut-wrenching laugh of the female persuasion captured his interest. He scanned the room, eager to discover the creature behind that stirring voice, and halted at the sight by the parlor door.
He blinked. Swathed in layers of sheer silk, he noticed the woman’s gown first. A highly unusual design that appeared almost…nude. His rapt gaze traveled up her curvy frame to a set of tits a priest would have trouble ignoring. Compelled as he was to go bury his face between them, one might think she had wrapped her dainty fingers around his cravat and yanked him off his randy ass.
“My god, Marks, who is the chit flanked by Godfrey and Jones?” Nash squinted, trying to make out her face, but was unable to discern who she could be with the wide-brimmed bonnet shading her eyes. What he did notice consisted of shiny black ringlets and pale skin the same shade as her gown.
“Cock tease, is she not?” Edward Marks, his dearest friend and business partner stroked his curled moustache. “I would wager a month’s pay she’ll be plucked up faster than a grouse at Christmas.”
Nash took a healthy swallow of brandy. “I’ll take your wager and raise you my finest horseflesh that I will have her plucked and panting by midnight.”