Andrew brushed aside the vaguely uncomplimentary description of Lady Catherine as being blunt and headstrong. Didn’t sisters always seem that way to their brothers? However, there was no ignoring the rest, and his eyes narrowed to slits. “Who are these men?”

“Egad, Andrew, that frigid tone doesn’t bode well for the fellows, and I don’t believe I’ve ever seen that particular glare in your eyes before. Hope I’m never on the receiving end of it.” He considered for several seconds, then said, “She mentioned some village doctor. Then of course there’s the Duke of Kelby whose country estate is near her home in Little Longstone. And then there was an assortment of earls, viscounts, and the like, a few of whom are here this evening.”

“Here? This evening?”

“When did you develop this troubling habit of repeating everything I say? Yes. Here. This evening. For example, Lords Avenbury and Ferrymouth.”

“Our investors?”

“The very ones. I ask that you please remember they would no doubt withdraw their funding if you bloodied their noble noses.”

“I suppose that means knocking them onto their noble asses is also out of the question.”

“I’m afraid so, although that would make for a fine evening’s entertainment. Apparently Kingsly also made an overture toward Catherine.”

“He’s married.”

“Yes. And has a mistress. Then there’s Lord Darnell.” Philip jerked his head toward the punch bowl. “Note his besotted expression.”

Andrew turned, and his jaw clenched. Lord Darnell was handing Catherine a glass of punch and looking at her as if she were a delectable morsel from which he longed to take a nice, big bite. Several other gentlemen, Andrew noted grimly, hovered about, all wearing similar expressions.