“I had no idea that kisses were so…so much fun,” Gabby said, her voice still husky. “Fun is not the right word. Fun is pale compared to this. To kissing.” She moved toward him again and Quill held out his hand, stopping her. She smiled without resentment.

“Now I see why my father never let me spend any time with gentlemen. And I am truly sorry that Peter went to Bath with your mother!”

The world stilled for a moment.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Quill managed. How had Gabby managed to grow up with such ignorance of men and women?

“Gabby, you must not request kisses from men other than—than your future husband,” Quill said hoarsely. He couldn’t seem to mention Peter’s name.

Her eyes cleared and then danced. “I should never, never have guessed, Quill. About kissing, I mean.”

“Ah,” he said, rather faintly. He needed a brandy, although it was only early afternoon. “You’d best go upstairs and reorder your hair.” He wrenched open the door. “I will accompany you to Hoare’s Bank later this afternoon.”

Gabby watched him leave as if the Furies were after him, with a pang of regret. Obviously he was sorry he’d kissed her. With a sigh, she dismissed Quill from her mind.

She went upstairs, her eyes dreamy. Perhaps by the time Peter returned, she would have her new wardrobe from Madame Carême, and Peter would look at her with the same sort of fiery appreciation that she glimpsed in Quill. Sternly, she brought to mind the many sermons she had heard regarding the evils of lust.

But they had never conveyed to her how…how indescribably lovely kissing was. For some reason it was difficult to imagine Peter jerking her into his arms and almost devouring her as Quill had. No doubt kissing Peter would be a gentler business, Gabby thought.

Up in her chamber, she took out the miniature of Peter that his father had sent her. The sight of his smiling, sweet eyes and soft brown curls steadied her.

Gabby smiled. Marriage was going to be very enjoyable at this rate. She couldn’t wait for Peter to return!

LADY SYLVIA ARRIVED an hour or so later. Gabby had just concluded a satisfactory interview with Codswallop. Not finding him in the front hallway, she had descended into the servants’ quarters to make absolutely certain that he was not injured by his tumble onto the parlor floor. And she had even swallowed her pride and apologized for fibbing about it.

“Quill knows everything,” she told Codswallop earnestly, “and he assures me that Viscount Dewland will never let you go.”