“What?” she asked, unable to keep from licking the corners of his mouth.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing. Oh, Noble! Do you think you ought to? Here? Now? Oh, my, yes!”

“Yes,” Noble agreed and, with one hand holding her head where he wanted it, he plundered her sweet, honeyed mouth.

***

“Are you sure, my dear?” Lord Gayfield, a pleasant, round-faced young man, asked his wife as they came up the last of the stairs. “In your bedchamber?”

“Yes, yes, it’s all anyone can speak of. Lord Carlisle and Lady Weston were to meet in my bedchamber, and Lord Weston has just left the card room to catch them in the act. Surely there will be a duel out of this, which is just what we need to put the right cachet to our parties.” Lady Gayfield, almost beside herself with joy, paused for a moment and waved at fifteen or so of her closest friends, following her up the stairs. “We couldn’t ask for anything better, Charles! It’s almost as if Lady Weston had heard my thoughts and was doing this just to please me.”

Lord Gayfield looked doubtful, but obediently pushed open the door to his wife’s bedchamber. They both peered in.

“Good lord!” Lady Gayfield said, one hand to her cheek.

Lord Gayfield spun his wife around and slammed the door behind them.

“There’s nothing to see,” he told the expectant crowd. “It’s just Lord and Lady Weston…uh…having a discussion.”

It took a few minutes to disperse the crowd, but at last the Gayfields were alone in the hallway.

Lady Gayfield put a restraining hand on her husband’s arm as he started to follow his guests. “Charles,” she whispered.

“Eh? What is it, Lydia?”

“Charles, did you see? How is that possible? Standing up? Against the wall?”

Lord Gayfield looked mildly embarrassed. “Er…yes. Against the wall. We’ll discuss it later, Lydia.”

“Well, I should hope so. And to think that Lady Weston assured me her husband wouldn’t bed her in front of the guests.”

“Er…yes. Best let it go, Lydia.”

“Well, I shall do so, but I will need to have the wallpaper redone in my room, Charles.”

“Quite, my dear.”

“Against the wall…Lord Weston must be incredibly strong!”

Lord Gayfield put a supportive arm around his wife’s shoulders and said nothing for a moment.

“Did you see Lady Weston’s stockings, Lydia? Quite charming embroidery. Eh…what say you get yourself a pair like them and we’ll discuss the wall issue?”

Lady Gayfield giggled.

Nine

The Black Earl, that coldhearted, callous man who was rumored to have strangled, shot, and stabbed his wife to death (depending on with whom you spoke), the man who was well known to have a temper of astronomical proportions, the man who had, over the course of just a few years, challenged four men to duels (and subsequently put a lead ball into the arm of all but one), the man whose name was used by wise mamas to scare their silly daughters into looking at more appropriate suitors, sat back against the cushions of his well-sprung carriage and chuckled.