She also knew that he was the type who would not make a single physical overture until she pushed the correct buttons. What he wanted desperately was to be alone. She wanted him, she needed sex, but the two ideas had not formed an equation where a concrete result could be deduced. ‘You wouldn’t know one end of a pistol from the other. “Of course,” he ventured, “I could try for more at the ‘Alhambra. “It is about your sister, Lady Ferringhall. It was common name, so I was thrown off the scent. . . How you dress when you're loafing will be no concern of mine; but fresh twill or Shantung, when you dine with me, collar and tie.
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