Peony Ryan gave a sigh and went right on filing her fingernails. How she could be so damn calm was a mystery to Jamie.

“Sounds like she can take care of herself, your Bliss,” she said after an interval of reflection, blowing on one nail and then busily filing again, an expression of concentration turning her beautiful face solemn. Peony had changed little over the years: her golden hair was as bright as ever, and her eyes, green as the hills where Jamie’s flocks grazed, could still draw a man’s soul right out of his body. “For heaven’s sake, have something to eat and get some rest. You’re half-dead, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Jamie shoved a hand through his hair. Peony didn’t understand, that was all. He wasn’t going to be able to eat or sleep until he found Bliss. He ground his teeth together in a moment of pure fury. When he did find the Duchess, he promised himself, he’d see that she didn’t sit down for a week.

The idea made him feel better, even though he knew he’d never carry it out.

“Whatever is going through your mind?” Peony demanded, unexpectedly attentive. “You’ve the most obnoxious grin on your face, Jamie McKenna!”

Jamie flung his hat onto one of the fancy settees that graced Peony’s elegant parlor, still smiling, and then shrugged out of his sheepskin coat and tossed that aside, too. A maid immediately appeared out of nowhere and took them away.

“I’ve decided that you’re right,” he replied, going to stand before the blaze crackling in Peony’s ivory fireplace. “It’s not as if Bliss could ’ave found a post this soon, now is it?”

His oldest and dearest friend was still looking at him in bemusement, but she shook her head. “There aren’t many ships sailing these days. The seas are too rough at this time of year.” The emerald eyes studied him soberly. “What is it that you’re not telling me, Jamie love?”

He hesitated. His involvement with Peony had never been a romantic one, but the news of his marriage was bound to set her back on her heels nonetheless. She would be hurt that he hadn’t mentioned it first thing, and when Peony was hurt, there was hell to pay.

“Bliss and I—well, we’re married.”

Peony was agape. “What?” she asked after a few moments of uninterrupted astonishment. “Jamie McKenna, did you just say that you were—”

“Married,” Jamie confirmed bleakly. Green blazes were flaring in Peony’s eyes, and he held out his hands in a gesture meant to stay her notorious temper.

Peony shrieked an expletive and then snatched a priceless vase from the table beside her and flung it at Jamie. He dodged the thing at the last second, and it shattered musically against the fireplace.

“If you’ll just listen,” he pleaded as she looked wildly around for something else to throw. “It’s only temporary, this marriage—’er father forced me into it at gunpoint!”

“Don’t you lie to me!” Peony cried hotly. “I’ve never seen you forced into anything you didn’t want to do!”