“Quite,” Rosse said succinctly and turned to speak with Gillian.

“Gillian!” Her name echoed down the hallway.

“Oh lord, that’s Noble,” she said, wringing her hands. “He doesn’t sound pleased, does he?”

“Gillian? Wife, where are you? Come out at once!”

Charlotte squeaked and ran back for the bed. The footman grinned and disappeared behind the screen but was immediately pushed out from behind it by Sir Hugh. He started toward the bed, but the earl beat it to him. “You can take the bloody Iron Maiden, I’ll go beneath the bed.”

Rosse and the footman looked at one another and around the room. Rosse was faster on his feet and made it to the area behind the love seat just ahead of the footman. Gillian stood by the wardrobe door as the footman, with a muttered oath, entered it.

She had just taken a step toward the door when Noble burst into the room.

“Hello, my love. Was that you I heard bellowing?”

Noble glanced quickly around the room and focused on the wardrobe. “Bloody hell, you’re hiding him?” he exclaimed as he strode into the room, straight for the massive piece of furniture. “Did we not just have a discussion about McGregor, madam?”

“No,” Gillian said as Noble threw open the wardrobe door and, reaching in, pulled out the footman. He stared with a look of surprise at the short man who was dangling at the end of his fist. “We didn’t have a discussion, you had a discussion. I just listened.”

“Who the devil is this? And what is he doing hiding in Lady Gayfield’s wardrobe?”

“It’s her footman, Jones,” Gillian answered.

“Er…actually, he works for me,” Rosse said, pushing back the love seat and straightening up to his full height.

“Harry? What are you doing here? I thought we…ah…I thought you were to wait downstairs?”

“I felt it best to be on hand in case you decided to make good your threat to Carlisle,” Rosse replied. “Do you mind setting Jones down? I don’t think he can breathe with you holding his throat like that.”

“Oh…er…my apologies.” Noble set the man down and gave his rumpled livery a quick straightening. “So Carlisle isn’t here?”

“No, he’s here, somewhere,” Rosse said, adjusting his spectacles. “Let’s see, I believe that’s Tolly behind the screen.”

Sir Hugh stepped out with a red face. “Noble, I just came to warn your wife that you had heard the ghastly rumors about her and Carlisle—”

“That’s enough, Tolly. I’m sure Noble knows you were here to protect him.”

Sir Hugh nodded his head vehemently.

“And I believe Lady Weston’s cousin is in the bed…ah, yes, there she is.”

“Good evening, Lord Weston,” Charlotte said, simultaneously dropping him a curtsy and fluttering her eyelashes at the marquis.

“And, of course, that’s Carlisle poking out from under the bed.”

Noble, who had been watching with an expression of sheer and utter confusion as people emerged from all sorts of furniture, narrowed his eyes and growled when the earl hauled himself out from under the bed.