“What good fortune is that?” Noble puffed gently on his cigar and tried not to look bored.

“Why, the sudden reversal of opinion, of course! You and your Amazon are the talk of the ton! Surely even you must have heard the talk, Noble. Everyone is talking about the kiss.”

Noble arched one sable eyebrow. “The kiss? What kiss?”

Rosse smiled as Sir Hugh adjusted his intricately tied cravat an infinitesimal bit to the right. “Must think of letting old Hudson go. He’s not as sharp with the Russian Waterfall as he should be. The kiss, man. The one she gave you in front of everyone at Countess Lieven’s last night!”

Noble gave in to the urge and looked bored. “I find it difficult to believe that my wife demonstrating a spontaneous burst of affection for me can cause such a scandal, Tolly.”

A spasm of distaste passed over the baronet’s face. “That’s where you have come up lucky. Her action, rash and indelicate though it might have been, has deemed her…has deemed you both…the toast of the Season. All the world loves a lover and all that.”

Rosse laughed at the look of chagrin on the earl’s face. “Now there’s a role I never thought you to be in, Noble. The passionate lover, unable to keep from your wife’s arms for the length of an evening.”

A dull red flush washed over Weston’s cheeks.

“It’s appalling!”

Both men looked surprised at the vehemence in Sir Hugh’s voice. “That is…not that you have suddenly become the toast of the ton, but that her…but that your wife…you must admit, Weston,” he stammered, “her behavior is better suited to a Cyprian than a countess.”

Noble’s narrow-eyed gaze flashed silver as it pinned Sir Hugh back in his chair. “You are speaking of my wife, Tolly. I find myself warning you again to temper your speech when speaking of her.”

Sir Hugh spread his hands in a sign of subjugation. “No offense was intended toward your good lady, I assure you, Weston. As one of your oldest friends, I simply want to make sure that she does nothing—inadvertently, of course—that might damage your reputation more than it is. God knows I’ve bent over backward trying to smooth things over for you…”

Noble made a dismissive movement and glanced at the clock residing on a table a few feet away. “Apology accepted. I have an appointment to keep shortly, Tolly. If you don’t mind, I’d like to hear what Harry has to say before I keep it.”

The baronet flushed and shot an unreadable look at him, then settled back in his chair with an expression approaching petulance.

“You were saying, Harry?”

“Ah.” Rosse raised an inquisitory eyebrow. Weston had no difficulty in understanding the movement. “Tolly, I’m sure, can be counted on to keep private all that is said between us.”

Sir Hugh’s round face lost its petulant expression. “Of course, my word and all that. What is the big secret?”

“Harry has done a little investigating into an affair for me. It seems someone wishes me ill, and made an attempt to imprison me the other night.”