Maggie turned the page of her book. “This may come as a surprise to you, Fred, but I have no desire to be traipsing about the countryside on a hot day. I’d far rather stay at home. And yes, when acquaintances from town come calling, I invite them in and offer them tea. Would you prefer I have the servants cover the windows and remove the door knocker?”

Fred gave an enraged snort, like a bull preparing to charge an unseen enemy. “He’s followed you down here, the blackguard.”

“My cousin has arrived?” Lionel Beresford came into the library. He looked from Maggie to Fred and back again. His normally languid gaze was alive with calculated interest. “And my uncle with him? Now that is unexpected.”

“They had tea here.” Fred’s tone was thick with insinuation, making the act sound like some kind of debauch.

Jane followed not far behind Mr. Beresford. Her bonnet was still in her hand. “There you are.” She went straight to Maggie, plumping down in the chair beside her. “What’s this I hear about Lord Allendale and Lord St. Clare coming to call?”

“They’re staying at the Hart and Hound. I wonder…” Maggie mused. “Do you think they’d be more comfortable here? We could make a house party of it.”

“We’ll do no such thing,” Fred said. “I forbid it, absolutely. The sooner St. Clare returns to wherever it is he came from, the better. I’ll not have him in this house making advances toward you.”

Advances.

Maggie’s blood warmed to recall her early morning meeting with St. Clare on the banks of the stream. “Don’t be ridiculous, Fred. His lordship behaved in a perfectly proper fashion, and I intend to reciprocate. I’ve invited him to dinner tomorrow.”

Fred’s fists clenched at his sides. “You wouldn’t—”

“He’ll be here at seven, along with Lord Allendale.” She gave him a stern look. “And I’ll hear no more on the subject. You’ve fought with him, and he’s won. It’s time to accept your loss with good grace.”

Jane made a strangled noise.

Perhaps that had been pushing Fred a bit too far.

His red face grew redder still, his breath puffing out of him. “My loss? My loss? What do you know of what transpired? These are gentlemen’s affairs.”

“Come, sir,” Lionel said, coaxing Fred away with a hand on his arm. “Let us leave the ladies to their novels. I’ve a matter or two to discuss with you. Perhaps over a glass of port?”

Fred grudgingly obliged his guest, exiting the library—but not before casting one last glower in Maggie’s direction.

“I’ve never seen him so angry,” Jane said. “Is it wise to bait him so?”