“And how is that going? Is he as easy to manage and control as you anticipated?” Isobel asked.

“Not really.”

“I do hope you haven’t been kissing him,” scolded Isobel. “You know he’s an unrepentant rogue.”

“Ladies, why should we read about dastardly fictional dukes when Viola can tell us about real ones?” asked Philippa.

“Sometimes rogues give the best kisses,” Beatrice said. “I should know. Viola is no blushing young miss and if there happen to have been kisses—”

“I kissed him!” Viola blurted. She’d never been very good at keeping secrets. “I kissed him . . . and more.”

Several of the ladies moved their chairs closer.

“What do you mean and more?” asked Della.

“Do be specific,” urged Philippa.

“I was only trying to do the right thing. I asked him why he hadn’t proposed marriage to the perfect, respectable, and unobjectionable Lady Winifred Woolfrey yet and do you know what he said?”

“Never mind what he said . . . I want to know what he did,” said Philippa.

“His whole demeanor changed and he stared into my eyes and he said, ‘Viola, the reason I haven’t proposed to Lady Winifred is that she’s not you.’”

“Oh my.” Della placed a hand over her heart. “That’s dreadfully romantic.”

“I don’t think it’s romantic at all,” said Isobel. “It might be if he were a respectable, honorable man.”

“Oh but it was romantic, Isobel. It was. And I’m afraid I felt its effects most devastatingly and I tried to mount some manner of objection, but he swallowed my words with kisses and then I may have . . . I may have wrapped my arms around him and pulled him tightly into my embrace.”

The ladies stared at her.

“At least I think I did, or maybe he swept me into his arms, either way, I ended up being carried across the room in his powerful arms and then . . .” Viola paused. Perhaps she shouldn’t divulge the true details. But these were her best friends, after all. “He laid me down upon the bed.”

“You were in a bedchamber alone with him?” asked Philippa, eyes widening.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Miss Viola Beaton, did I not warn you about just such an occurrence?” Isobel scolded.

“You did—you certainly did. All of you did. I’ve no excuse. I don’t know what comes over me every time I see him. I can’t seem to control myself. He’s been so different lately. Almost as if he’s transforming into the duke I’d invented in my mind. The honorable, thoughtful one. He even purchased a special auditory aid for my father.”

“But then what happened? You were on the bed . . .” prompted Philippa.

“While there was no candle wax involved, it was quite steamy. He was intent solely on my pleasure and he gave most freely.”

“Perhaps he’s a romantic disguised as a rogue?” Della asked hopefully.