His eyes were icy with fury. “I’ll tumble my fiancée any damned place I please.”

Lady Sylvia drew herself up sharply. “Gabrielle is not a milkmaid, and there will be no such behavior while I’m her chaperone. We’ll see what yer father has to say about this!”

Silence fell as all three people realized that Viscount Dewland would have nothing to say, given his incapacity.

“I suppose poor old Thurlow can’t complain,” Lady Sylvia said after a moment. “But he won’t like it if you have a six-month child. I won’t like it. I’m supposed to stop this sort of thing.”

Gabby rushed forward and took her chaperone’s hand. “Please, Lady Sylvia, forgive me for my behavior this morning. I will not spend any time alone with Erskine before our wedding, that I promise you. And…and I’m not damaged goods!” she finished in a rush.

Lady Sylvia gave a reluctant little smile. “I thought as much,” she admitted. “Erskine here may be a hothead, but he isn’t a debaucher.”

“I should not have spoken to you in that fashion,” Quill said. “Please forgive me, Lady Sylvia.”

She shrugged. “The way you’ve been wearing your heart on your sleeve, Erskine, I should have expected a little plain talk. I suppose you’re going to want the wedding set within the next week or so.”

Quill had fully intended to have an engagement that lasted a good three months, just as Peter had advised the night before. But he had no illusions about the source of his current bad humor. Every inch of his body was instructing him to tumble Gabby on the hearth rug again. And he wanted a sixth-month child no more than would his father.

“Absolutely not,” he replied stiffly. “Gabby and I shall have a formal announcement and wait a suitable period of time before solemnizing the wedding. Perhaps a month,” he added.

Lady Sylvia laughed. “You’re far gone, Erskine. Not that I dislike seeing it. My Lionel was that eager to get me into bed! He swore it was time to measure a casket when my father refused to have the ceremony for six months.

“At any rate, you’ve chosen your new bridegroom just in time, Gabrielle. I’ve a note here from Kitty. She says she’s coming to London, and I expect she wants to see Peter married quickly. You’ll have to inform your brother that he’s lost his heiress, Erskine.” Lady Sylvia gathered up her reticule and fan. “Gabrielle, come with me, please. Your hair needs immediate attention, and I suggest you spend the next hour or so composing yourself. Now that you’ve not only been introduced to society but created your first scandal, I warrant we shall have a flood of callers this morning.”

So Gabby meekly set off, leaving behind her one frustrated fiancé and seventeen pearl-tipped hairpins.