“It’s something to think about,” Gillian said.

The ladies discussed it with increasing enthusiasm.

“We’d need someone to manage the fund,” Beverly said loudly over the excited chatter. “Someone who could invest it for us, so that we could benefit from our subscriptions.”

“That’s our Beverly,” Laura said proudly. “She was with Lord Cardwell, you know. The banker.”

“Yes, she’s right,” Anne said, narrowing her eyes and giving Gillian a close look. “We’d need someone with connections to invest our money for us. No man would touch the money if he knew it was from us, but if it was from someone of the noble class, someone who might wish to invest her pin money, someone who had access to her husband’s man of affairs…”

All five of the women’s heads swiveled to look at Gillian.

“I’d be delighted,” Gillian said graciously. “We can talk about the details at a later date, but first, I simply must ask you something that’s been uppermost on my mind.” Four brows rose in inquiry. “It’s about you and Noble…”

The ladies smiled.

***

Noble was smiling as well. A silly, sated, smug sort of smile. He sat in a quiet corner of his club, his body blissfully at rest in the deep armchair. He had, he thought with amusement, all the strength of a newborn pup. His mind, the only thing that had the energy to function, wandered the merry paths of the memory of the past night’s—and the morning’s—activities. His smile turned into a cheeky grin.

“Will you look at that, Tolly?” Rosse said, prodding at Noble’s outstretched legs with the toe of his boot. “It looks as if our friend here is suffering from a newly wed man’s complaint.”

Sir Hugh watched as Noble lifted a limp hand to wave the two men into nearby seats. “’Pon my honor, Weston, I don’t know when I’ve seen you look so wasted. Are you ill? Ought to see a physician. Your color’s not good at all.”

“He’s not suffering from anything other than paying tribute to the altar of Hymen.” Rosse snickered, and waved for an attendant.

“Harry, if I had the strength I would thrash you soundly for that,” Noble said and instead demanded a whiskey.

“Ah, but you haven’t, so I will take the opportunity to wish you a long and happy life with your lady, my friend.” Rosse lifted his glass in a toast. Noble acknowledged the toast and sighed with deep appreciation as the water of life spread warmth throughout his limbs.

“About last night, Weston—” Sir Hugh began. “It’s a damned shame that had to happen.”

Noble, thinking of his and Gillian’s activities against Lady Gayfield’s wall, murmured something unintelligible.

“But you’ll take care of that blighter Carlisle tomorrow morning, eh? Noticed the wagers are laid evenly across you both in the books.”

Rosse shot the baronet a questioning look. “Having a little flutter yourself, Tolly?”

Sir Hugh flushed and busied himself with arranging his fobs.

“What news do you have, Harry?” Noble asked, taking pity on the younger man’s discomfort. Nothing could sour his present mood.