Christiana had just begun to adjust to the fact that she was free of him and had enjoyed those precious hours of not worrying about what Dicky would say and do. Yet now here he was alive and well and she was suddenly attracted to him in a way she had never been before. Christiana hadn’t even felt this way toward him during their courting. She’d never once wanted him to kiss her or pull her close then as she’d wanted during the waltz. In fact, she had come to realize that her feelings for the man during their courting had been more of a child’s daydream than a woman’s wishes. The courting had been all hearts and flowers, leading to a child’s light fluffy dream of happy-ever-afters. However, the attraction she’d felt just now on the dance floor was much more raw and physical and left her bewildered and even a little scared. She had never experienced that with him before, but then while he had been ever charming before the marriage, he had never shown kindness and concern until now. There was something different about him tonight and she wondered to herself if his brush with death had somehow changed him. If perhaps that’s what he’d meant by things being different now.

“Chrissy, there is something different about Dicky.”

Christiana blinked and peered up at Robert with surprise. It was as if he’d read her thoughts.

Before she could say so, he added, “I have felt it for some time now. He’s not the man I attended school with.”

Christiana frowned. Robert wasn’t talking about his being different tonight then. “How so?”

“Did you know I have been to see you three times the last few months and he has turned me away each time?”

She grimaced apologetically, and admitted, “I only knew about two occasions and found out about those just this morning. I’m sorry. I hope you know I consider you like family and would never—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he interrupted. “The point is that the Richard Fairgrave I knew was nothing like the pompous ass who took such delight in sending me away. It was more like his brother, George.”

Her eyebrows rose at mention of her husband’s brother. George Fairgrave, the younger of the twin brothers by moments, had died in a fire just months before she had married Dicky. She tilted her head to the side and frowned. “Oh?”

Robert was silent for a moment, appearing uncomfortable, but finally met her gaze and asked uncomfortably, “Does he have a birthmark?”

Christiana raised her eyebrows. “Not that I’ve seen. Should he?”

He nodded grimly. “It’s a small strawberry on his left buttock.”

Her eyes widened and then she flushed. “Oh, well, he may have one then, but I have never seen him without clothes.”

“You have not seen him . . . ?” Robert’s voice died and he now flushed as well, as he apparently realized what he was asking.

Aware she was blushing furiously, Christiana glanced around to see if anyone was listening. Much to her relief Robert had steered them to a relatively open area on the dance floor and no one was near enough to hear. Still, she scowled and murmured, “I think we should change the subject. It really isn’t proper to discuss—”