“I inherited it through my great-grandmother,” Alex said cheerfully. Now that he had Pippa in his arms and Charlotte didn’t seem to be looking at him as if he were a monster, he felt as if the world was manageable once again. As soon as he had the chance, he would simply explain to Charlotte that although she had slept with his brother, he—Alex—had magnanimously decided to forgive her for the lapse. He smiled to himself. This was the right way to behave. His mother would have approved. His father—no. His father would definitely have cast Charlotte off, or left her entombed in this Scottish castle in the back of nowhere. But he wasn’t like his father. He would have a marriage based on magnanimity, even if not on love. In fact, Alex was practically glowing with virtue.

Unfortunately, his wife didn’t seem to have noticed. She was wandering about, touching the tapestries that lined the wide room. In fact, she seemed to be frowning over how dusty they were.

“Well,” Charlotte said, meeting his eyes with no apparent self-consciousness. “I shall be in my chamber until supper, my lord. Mrs. McLean will show me the way, I am sure.” Charlotte smiled at the plump housekeeper, waiting by the stairs. “What time do you serve supper in Scotland?”

Alex looked back at her, one eyebrow unconsciously raised. His new wife was very cool. “At eight o’clock,” he said.

“My lord,” Charlotte repeated, and curtsied.

Alex started. Of course, his parents used to salute each other that way, but Charlotte had never curtsied to him before, except in the midst of a dance. Slowly, he bowed.

Then suddenly Charlotte approached him, and his heart raced. But she merely leaned in and brushed Pippa’s cheek with her lips.

“Mama!” Pippa said, and for a moment she managed to hook her chubby little arm around her mama’s neck, bringing them so close together that Alex could smell Charlotte’s orange-blossom scent.

“No, sweetie,” Charlotte said lovingly to Pippa. “You stay with your papa awhile. There’s my good pippin.” Then she turned to Alex, and all the warmth fell from her face like magic, leaving not hostility, but a calm detachment. “Whenever you wish, return Pippa to her nanny. She is quite fond of Katy now.”

An icy chill crept up Alex’s spine. No, Charlotte didn’t look at him as if she were angry. She looked at him the way he had seen a hundred society dames look at their husbands: not enraged, not even speculative, simply flatly uninterested. But very, very polite, he thought, as Charlotte curtsied again and began climbing the stairs with Mrs. McLean. Without thinking he tightened his grasp on Pippa until she gave a squawk of protest.

“All right, pumpkin. Let’s go see the kittens in the stable, shall we?”