“That certainly is in poor taste, but hardly—”

“While the duchess was in her box directly across from La Bella Dona’s!”

“Oh. Well, yes, then I will agree that your example certainly does show a shocking lack of manners, but that hardly has anything to do with my situation.”

“Yes, it does. The point is that you can hardly behave in such a manner, even with your own husband.”

Gillian thought back to the morning’s activities in the library. “I’m not so sure of that—”

“Oh, look!” Charlotte squealed, and grabbed her cousin’s arm. “There he is.”

“Noble? Where?”

“No, not Weston. His friend. The handsome one. By the shrubs to your left.”

“Lord Rosse? I don’t see him either. All I see is that little man Sir Hugh—”

“Gillian! How can you be so cruel just because the gentleman isn’t a giant like you.”

Gillian stared at her cousin with a slight smile playing around her lips. “My apologies, Char. I had no idea you had a tendresse for him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I have nothing of the sort. Papa would never countenance a marriage between a poor baronet and me. I merely pointed out one of your husband’s friends.”

“Mmm, yes, thank you.” Gillian made a mental note to ask Noble about his friend, and continued to scan the crowd.

“There’s Weston.”

“Where?” Gillian spun around.

“Over there, just at the foot of the stairs. He’s being given the cut by Lord Monteith. Oh, my, Gillian, that isn’t good. I believe Lord Worcester just cut him as well. What are you going to do?”

Gillian looked across the mossy paths, meandering streams of water, manicured lawn, and Arcadian groups of shrubs lit from within by colored lamps to where a group of people had collected to watch her husband be ignored by the crème of the ton. Dressed entirely in black, with a brilliant snowy white shirtfront and cravat, Noble’s austere beauty took Gillian’s breath away. Instantly her anger refocused itself onto a new, and much more deserving, target.

“I’ll show you what I’m going to do,” she said grimly, her hands fisted as she walked quickly toward the group of people.

A hush settled over them as they watched her approach. Noble, standing alongside Lord Rosse, raised one glossy black brow as she walked swiftly toward him. Gillian suddenly hoisted up a handful of her gown, speeded up her approach, and launched herself into her husband’s arms, pressing her eager lips against his.

She kissed him with all the fire and passion that had been smoldering in her ever since she had first seen him. She kissed him with every last ounce of love and devotion she possessed. She kissed him with an intensity that was readily apparent to those who stood by in astounded silence, watching them. She kissed him with abandon and joy and the warmth that only Noble could generate in her. It wasn’t technically a perfect kiss as far as kisses went, but it was a monumental one in the eyes of the ton. It was a kiss that turned the tide of public opinion about the Black Earl.