In fact, Simone and Patrick’s man, Keating, were engaged in a flaming battle over the master’s whereabouts at night. Keating maintained that the master was not up to hanky-panky; Simone scoffed and said the duke was spending time with a fancy lady somewhere and that Keating ought to be ashamed. The battle had grown so heated that Keating actually brought one of Patrick’s coats down to the servants’ quarters, the better to demonstrate its utter lack of female perfume or face powder.

Sophie finished fastening the bracelet, quite as if Clemens’s message hadn’t arrived. She was wearing a loose sea-green evening gown, constructed with an extra panel in the front to accommodate her growing belly.

For a moment she hesitated in front of the mirror. She felt ugly these days, an ugly, unwanted wife. Pregnant wife, she thought savagely. Perhaps I should just take a tray in my room.

Then she steadied her courage and walked down the stairs. She walked slowly, concentrating on balancing the extra weight that jutted out before her. Patrick met her at the bottom of the stairs.

Sophie smiled at him politely and took his arm as they walked into the dining room.

Automatically Sophie forked pheasant into her mouth.

“Isn’t this the second time this week that Floret has served pheasant?” Patrick asked.

“Yes, it is. I’m afraid that my mother managed to bribe him.” Sophie suffered through two more bites, wondering how Patrick knew that Floret had also served pheasant on Tuesday. That evening he hadn’t come in until long after she fell asleep. These days she had stopped waiting for his return. She needed sleep more than she needed the confirmation that her husband rarely arrived home before dawn.

Sophie ate another bite. The pheasant tasted like sawdust.

“I will accompany you to Lady Greenleaf’s ball tomorrow night, if I may,” Patrick said. “I believe that it promises to be a great crush.”

Sophie nodded. Her husband had come home for supper, and now he was going to take her to a ball?

In the face of Sophie’s silence, Patrick kept talking. “You might be amused to hear that there are bets at White’s on whether Braddon will announce his engagement to your friend Madeleine in the next week or so.”

Sophie said nothing. Patrick cursed silently. What was he doing? Sophie was unlikely to be thrilled to hear that Braddon was getting married to someone else, given her feelings for the man.

“Perhaps we might take a picnic to the countryside, if the weather stays fine this weekend,” he said, suddenly inspired. Surely it would be a good deal easier to talk to Sophie if they were alone, rather than sitting at the table flanked by two footmen.

Suddenly Sophie’s head swung up, and Patrick saw to his astonishment that her eyes were narrowed, blazing.