Wallflower

Catherine Gayle

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Wallflower

Copyright © 2011 by Catherine Gayle

Cover Design by Adrienne Thorne

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.

For more information: catherinegayle.author@gmail.com

Dedication

To Mom, for teaching me to read, and to Dad, for telling me so many stories—over and over and over again.

Summer, 1798

Ainsworth Court, Cotehill, Cumberland

“Aunt Rosaline is smoking a cheroot,” Bethanne said from her perch by the window, carefully hidden from outside view by the draperies. From a few feet away, Tabitha saw her cousin as plain as day, as could anyone walking past them in the corridor. Bethanne’s big, green eyes—eyes almost too large for her face—somehow widened further than normal as she rounded on her two cousins. “A cheroot!”

“Aunt Rosaline smoking a cheroot hardly signifies as newsworthy, Bethie,” Jo scoffed, sending her blonde curls flying. She always shortened everyone’s name, whether they wanted their name shortened or not. It was a long ingrained habit—one Tabitha doubted Jo would ever be broken of. “I’ve caught her doing far worse than that on more occasions than I can count.”

Tabitha had to laugh at Jo’s assessment. Then she laughed again at Bethanne’s dejected huff of defeat, though she at least took care to conceal her snicker behind a hand. Bethanne would not appreciate the humor of the situation, particularly since it came at her expense.

The youngest of the three cousins at the ancient age of eleven, Bethanne Shelton never quite managed to win at anything against the much longer in the tooth, much wiser, much more indomitable thirteen-year-old Josephine Faulkner. Jo’s father, Viscount Hazelwood, might occasionally choose to describe his daughter as determined, or perhaps as merely stubborn-to-a-fault if he felt generous on the particular day one asked. Tabitha knew better: Jo was as obstinate as a mule. This was one of the reasons Tabitha loved her so.

Jo could always best Tabitha too, particularly if a talent such as playing the pianoforte were involved or anything else requiring one to take center stage. At twelve years old and precisely in the middle of her two dearest cousins, Lady Tabitha Shelton despised having a room full of people staring at her for any reason at all. It always made her think they were disgusted by her, that they were staring down their haughty, aristocratic noses upon her because she had never managed to lose the chubbiness generally acceptable at infancy, yet perpetually frowned upon once a child no longer wore nappies. Already at this early age, her hips had begun to widen and her bosom had started to round itself out, and she tended to attract far more attention than she should ever have liked.

Quite perplexing, that. If she did not already believe herself destined for a lifetime spent alone, the sheer girth of her frame would convince her of it in the infinitesimal span of a moment. What gentleman, after all, would be attracted to a girl who appeared more like a rounded, pink pig than an elegant and refined lady?

“Such as?” Bethanne demanded, startling Tabitha out of her ruminations. The youngest girl plopped down onto the sofa in the front parlor, sending a whoosh of air over Tabitha. “What on earth could she possibly have done that is worse than smoking cheroots?”

“Well, perhaps worse is not strictly the correct term,” Jo mused. “Certainly more scandalous, though.”

Tabitha merely raised an eyebrow in question. Jo could not possibly think to hold back on them now. Not after raising their mutual curiosity in such a manner.

Indeed, their elder cousin did not keep them in suspense for longer than a trifling moment. “Well, to start, I saw her riding over the hill the other day. Astride.”

“No!” Bethanne responded. “But her skirts would be all bunched about her legs. She couldn’t possibly have done that. I don’t believe it for one second.”

Tabitha held her tongue. Jo had left something out as surely as the sky was blue—a rather important something, it would seem. Tabitha wanted every detail before forming her own assessment.

“Yes, she did,” Jo said. “But her skirts were hardly a concern, seeing as how she wasn’t wearing any. Aunt Rosaline wore breeches.”

And there was the rub.

“Josephine Faulkner, if your father knew you were telling such a fudge...” Bethanne’s scold trailed off as a herd of their brothers and the boys’ friends tromped past them down the corridor. She followed them with her eyes before returning to her diatribe. “He’d banish you to the outer bailey for a year.”

Jo’s family lived in King Water Castle, an old fortress everyone thought to be haunted that was situated only a few miles from Tabitha’s ancestral home of Ainsworth Court. The outer bailey seemed to have more spirits than the rest of the castle combined, at least as far as the imaginations of the three girls were concerned.

“He would not, because it isn’t a story. It’s the truth.” Jo readjusted on the mauve settee, settling her skirts about her legs again, and then looked over her shoulder to the hallway before continuing in a conspiratorial tone. “Do you want to know something else that’s the truth? The next day, I caught her kissing a gardener behind Uncle Drake’s mews when I was on my way over for a visit. She looked at me for a moment with a rather triumphant grin, I must say, and then shooed me away, telling me to mind my own affairs and stay out of hers.”

One of Father’s gardeners? Surely not. Drake Shelton, the Earl of Newcastle, would never stand for such an impropriety. He had indulged his sister in many ways over the years—as had the entire family, truth be told—but he would never allow her ruin at the hands of a member of his own staff.

Tabitha simply couldn’t believe such a thing.

“How positively sinful,” sputtered Bethanne.

“I’d say more delicious than sinful,” Jo countered after a thoughtful moment. “But certainly scandalous.”

Indeed, everything about Aunt Rosaline seemed to scream out scandal. Perhaps in all capital letters. SCANDAL! With an exclamation mark. The added emphasis was a must.

Yet despite how the townspeople rushed their children along, so as to avoid the influence of ‘That Bluestocking, Lady Rosaline Shelton,’ despite the whispers in corners about her being an Old Maid (according to Tabitha’s mother, the worst thing that could be said of a lady, save perhaps for being a lightskirt), and despite the on-dit Tabitha had read in the gossip rags that Jo’s older sister, Lavinia, always managed to secure from London, Aunt Rosaline did not seem to care one iota.

Instead, she almost rejoiced in the negative attentions.

Be yourself, Tabitha, no matter who is watching, had become Aunt Rosaline’s nearly constant refrain in recent years. In fact, she’d even written it to her in a piece of correspondence only a few months previously. It had come as part of a birthday letter, sent after Tabitha had despaired of Father and her brothers’ continued disparaging remarks—about her unrelenting state of plumpness and how she would never find a suitable match if she did not make drastic changes, and soon. The beauty you have on the inside is ten times more luminous than the world could handle seeing on the outside. We’d all be blind in an instant.

Tabitha had merely set the letter aside. Be herself? Who else could she be? She wasn’t altogether sure she understood what her aunt had meant. Certainly, Aunt Rosaline had not intended to encourage Tabitha to be overweight by half, nor plain and boring to boot. Yet that, as far as Tabitha could tell when she had received the letter, was the sum total of all that she was.

But now, as she slipped off the sofa and moved over to take a peek out the window for herself (and yes, Aunt Rosaline was, indeed, smoking a cheroot), perhaps she had a better understanding. Maybe Aunt Rosaline simply meant to do what was right for her, and not to worry about the consequences. Or at least not overmuch. Still, how could one do that and still have a chance at being accepted by society?

“What would it be like not to care what people thought?” Tabitha mused aloud, not truthfully expecting an answer. Indeed, her voice had been so soft she hoped perhaps no one else heard her.

“Precisely as it ought to be, Tabby,” Jo replied with a cluck of her tongue, within half a breath of the question. Her tone held an air of adamancy, as usual.

Yes, perhaps that was how things should be. Not wondering what the world thought of her excessive, unwanted curves. Not worried about whether she spoke rather more than was appropriate or quite less than was acceptable.

“Blissful,” Bethanne breathed. “I think it might be a little slice of heaven.”

Blissful. Heavenly. That it would certainly be, also.

But for Tabitha, there was something more. Something weightier. Something far more profound. “It would be freeing,” she whispered. She hurriedly dashed the tear that had escaped aside, not wanting either cousin to see her distress.

Jo came up alongside Tabitha, taking her free hand into her own with a gentle squeeze, one that brooked no bosh. If she saw the tears, she mercifully ignored them. “Then the three of us must make a pact,” she said.

Tabitha wanted to laugh. She could never be free, despite any pact, despite any desire on her cousins’ parts, despite any need on her own. No matter how desperate. She must do everything in her power to become an agreeable lady as suited her station. The only daughter of the eighth Earl of Newcastle must somehow find a gentleman who would offer for her, despite the fact that no gentleman her father found acceptable would ever think of her as beautiful—and certainly not worthy of the grotesquely large dowry he intended to settle upon her, in order to offset this rather lamentable circumstance.

Tabitha would never be considered a diamond of the first water, not in her present state. The thought was utterly ridiculous.

“A pact?” Bethanne cut in with obvious glee as she darted across to join them by the window. “What sort of pact? I do so love secrets. Might we form a secret pact?”

“Yes, I think it must be a secret,” Jo continued. “We’ll each strive to become just like Aunt Rosaline. We must do what we want, what is right for us, even if it is not what others think is right for us. We must become old maids. Together.”

Tabitha slowly but deliberately pulled her hand away. Her cousin clearly had no earthly idea what she was suggesting. Jo ought to have a better understanding of things. Her father was a viscount—a position not all that alien from an earl, after all. Jo had the same expectations upon her shoulders as Tabitha did, aside from the fact that Jo had another sister with whom to share the burden of securing an acceptable marriage.

Jo frowned at her. “Hear me out before you refuse. Bethie has excellent connections, but her father certainly has limited funds for a dowry. That will undoubtedly make it more difficult for her to marry.”

Bethanne wrinkled her pert nose. “Very true.”

“You have what might possibly be unlimited funds for a dowry,” Jo continued, “but, as your father has made it all too clear, you have physical hindrances for finding that suitable match. And as for me?” Jo returned to the sofa and landed upon it in a frustrated flop. “I think I’ve made it profusely clear to everyone I know that I will not be seen as beneath anyone. Especially not a husband.”

Tabitha sighed all the way to her toes. Jo was right. “But Father—”

“But nothing,” Jo interrupted. “None of our fathers will be particularly pleased, to be sure. But they will never force us to do something against our will. They’ll treat us just like they treat Aunt Rosaline.”

A smile threatened to overwhelm Bethanne’s impish face. “They will, won’t they? Oh, how wonderful. What can we call it?”

“Call what?” Tabitha asked cautiously. This whole charade might not the best idea, but what else was she to do? After all, thinking of the type of gentleman who might actually want to offer for her someday caused her to shudder quite vehemently. They’d have to be fortune hunters or...or what, exactly? She didn’t know.

Bethanne’s eyes shone with her excitement. “Our pact, silly. We need a name for it.” She lowered her voice and glanced over to the open door of the parlor before continuing. “A secret name.”

Jo made a show of examining her fingernails. “Well,” she drawled, “they do tend to call Aunt Rosaline an old maid, and we will be just like her. Why not the Old Maids’ Club? We can be free and blissful, and grow old together as old maids.”

A nervous titter escaped Tabitha’s lips at that suggestion. “What, call ourselves the very thing they will say about us?”

“Exactly,” Jo said. “We can take away the power of that nonsensical phrase by choosing it for ourselves.” Her blue eyes sparkled with the intensity of the midnight sky.

Take away the power? But it was only words. Just a phrase.

Just a phrase. Oh, precisely. Words held no meaning if one afforded them none. Tabitha’s heartbeat roared to life. “Old Maids’ Club?” she asked.

“Old Maids’ Club,” Bethanne said, grinning like an imbecile.

Jo came back across the room to join them, taking their hands into her own. “Old Maids’ Club.”

Yes. She would claim her future as whatever she wanted it to be. She would follow her aunt’s advice and be herself, whatever that entailed. Tabitha took Bethanne’s free hand and completed the circle.

She would be free.

Spring, 1815

London

“It’s obscene, really.” This came from Lady Kibblewhite, who leaned over until her near-bluish hair virtually assaulted her companion. The massive aubergine feathers adorning her headpiece finished the attack where her hair had left off. Not that she needed to lean in at all. Her wobbly voice carried halfway across Lord Scantlebury’s ballroom. One would have to exert a valiant and sincere effort in order not to hear the sprawling whine of a voice.

From Lady Tabitha Shelton’s chosen location, safely ensconced behind an array of potted plants and hidden from the view of the majority of the ballroom, she couldn’t possibly avoid the ancient society matron’s words. She was, after all, merely a few feet behind the two and several positions down the wall. Tabitha remained where she was for two reasons: first, to avoid the possibility of dancing with any gentleman whatsoever; and second, to avoid the notice of Lord Oglethorpe, the blasted fortune hunter currently attempting to pay her excessive attention of the unwanted variety.

As luck would have it, Tabitha had selected a green shade of silk for her gown that evening, one that fortuitously fell somewhere between the hues of the verdant ivies in pots before her and the somewhat softer Pomona green draped over the walls. She thought she blended in quite well, all things considered.

“Do keep your voice down. She’ll hear you.” And this came from said feather-assaulted companion, Lady Plumridge, as she searched about to find the obscenity in question. Lady Plumridge was younger, yes. And also much squatter.

She was no less a gossipmonger, however.

Lady Kibblewhite’s head popped up, with the feathers bashing around atop her head until they created a breeze almost strong enough to cause Tabitha to shiver. “I don’t care one whit if she does. Even she couldn’t deny the indecent dimensions her dowry has taken on this Season. How disgraceful, that Lord Newcastle has had to resort to such measures. Pathetic, really...if one should ask me, that is.”

“And we all know that one ought to do precisely that,” Lady Plumridge said with far more gusto than Tabitha thought necessary.

The two dragons were right, of course. Tabitha harbored no disbelief that she was the subject of their current discussion, and she was also forced to agree with them—at least on one point. Father had, yet again, increased her preposterously large dowry to near epic proportions.

He was desperate to find her a suitable husband before she reached her thirtieth birthday—a feat his brother-in-law, Viscount Hazelwood, had not managed with Tabitha’s cousin, Jo. This was likewise a task in which he was certain to fail, however much it pained Tabitha to disappoint him with regard to any matter.

Sadly, Father refused to listen to her arguments. The way he continually increased her dowry did manage to attract a potential suitor or two from time to time. Regrettably, these gentlemen all held one commonality which Tabitha simply could not abide: a propensity for fortune hunting. They wanted her for her money, not for herself. Who would want her for herself, after all? Certainly not Oglethorpe or any of his ilk.

At less than a month shy of nine-and-twenty, she had never been considered an Incomparable. Tabitha could not boast excellent skill at playing the pianoforte, or an aptitude for painting watercolors, or cleverness in embroidery or stitchery, or expertise in any other traditional feminine pursuit. Additionally, she was rather more plump than could be considered fashionable and rather more plain than pretty, with straight hair of some muddy, brownish hue and eyes of a lackluster grey that turned downright stormy when she was in a temper, as Jo was frequently keen to inform her.

There was, to be blunt, nothing to recommend her save her disproportionate dowry and a superb proficiency at remaining a wallflower. Tabitha couldn’t convince even herself otherwise, so how on earth could she be expected to convince the beau monde? It was simply one of the sad facts of who she was.

“If her mother were still alive,” Lady Kibblewhite intoned, “I daresay she would have had an apoplectic fit by now for not securing a husband for her only daughter. At least one of Newcastle’s sons has married—the heir. Heaven knows if anyone can ever bring the spare to heel.”

Someone bring Toby to heel? Tabitha had to tamp down on a fit of missish giggles at the absurdity of the thought.

Suddenly, she felt parched—almost desperately so. But if she were to move from her spot, she would alert the Ladies Kibblewhite and Plumridge of the fact she’d been eavesdropping. Not only that, but she would also make it much easier for Lord Oglethorpe to resume his attentions. Blast. So a wallflower she must remain. It ought not to be difficult—at least not overly so. She’d graced the edges of ballrooms for twelve Seasons running. Why break the streak?

Lady Plumridge nodded frantically. “Mr. Shelton has become quite the rogue. Newcastle seems to have lost his rein on the lad.”

The lad, indeed. Tobias Shelton, Toby to those who knew him well (which admittedly one could argue would include the majority of Britain and a good half the Continent), was mere minutes younger than Tabitha—and therefore far past the age when a gentleman was expected to cease sowing his wild oats and become a respectable member of society. Toby, however, had no intention of becoming anything close to resembling respectable. He made certain to inform Tabitha of this fact on every occasion he could, just in case she had somehow forgotten.

He’d been graced with a dashing figure that set all the young, unmarried ladies’ hearts aflutter, complete with rich brown hair that glistened in the sun, laughing blue eyes that always bespoke some devilry or another, and pristine, straight teeth. He could charm the stockings off anyone he chose. (Thankfully, she had not yet heard tell of his charming the stockings off an innocent. She could only hope she wouldn’t.) Essentially, Toby was quite Tabitha’s opposite in every way but age.

Which only served to prove God’s sense of humor. Blast him. Toby, not God.

Lady Kibblewhite shook her head forcefully. “He is a lost cause. No lady will tame the rascal he has become.”

But then Tabitha’s attention was drawn to her cousin, Jo, making her way through the throng toward her. Jo wore her blonde curls down in waves that bounced about her shoulders against a bold blue satin gown that highlighted the particular shade of her eyes. And, bless her, she carried two glasses in her hands.

The matrons ceased their gossiping long enough to watch Jo’s progress, too. For that matter, it seemed nearly every eye in the ballroom was trained upon her. Unlike Tabitha, Jo had been an Incomparable. In fact, were she not already so firmly entrenched in her position upon the shelf, Jo might still be considered an Incomparable to this day.

For a moment, Tabitha silently cursed her cousin for drawing attention to her position of safety—in particular because Lady Plumridge and Lady Kibblewhite looked over at Tabitha with heated disdain. Her eavesdropping had been discovered. Perfect. She feigned a smile and waved before whipping her fan out.

Tabitha’s despair could only last a moment, however, because she was in dire need of whatever drink Jo was carrying. She said a silent prayer for sherry, though she doubted the Scantleburys had provided anything of the sort.

“How did you know?” Tabitha asked. She had barely strangled the words out before snatching a glass from her cousin’s hand. Her voice even cracked from how dry her throat had become. She took a long sip then grimaced. “Lemonade?”

“It was all they had,” Jo replied. “How did I know what? That you were thirsty, or where to find you?” She took a tiny and elegant sip from her own glass.

“Both, I suppose.”

Jo smiled, a cat-that-caught-the-canary sort of grin, and raised a brow. “The answer to both is the same. You’re predictable.” At Tabitha’s huff of indignation, Jo allowed a small laugh to break free. “Predictably reticent, Tabby. Retiring. Always hiding from the finer things in life. And it didn’t hurt that Lord Oglethorpe had just sought me out while I was at the refreshment table, hoping I could direct him to where he could find you. He hopes to claim your hand for the supper dance. I assume you already knew that.”

Tabitha nodded, her eyes wide. Surely Jo wouldn’t have directed the fortune hunter her way. She’d strangle her cousin for that.

“I thought as much,” Jo said. “So I knew you would be in hiding somewhere. When I didn’t find you in the retiring room, I merely had to search the walls for a spot of brown hair amongst the plants.”

Thankfully, Lord Oglethorpe did not seem to have deduced as much as Jo had. At least not yet. Tabitha stole a furtive glance around the ballroom to locate him.

“I directed him to the pond in Lord Scantlebury’s park. He’ll be searching for you out there for at least the next two sets. Perhaps three.” Jo paused a beat, taking a sip from her lemonade. Then she winked. “You can thank me tomorrow.”

A grin overtook Tabitha’s face. “Have I mentioned recently that you’re one of my favorite cousins?”

“One of?” Jo replied with as much haughty condescension as she could muster. “I should think I would be your absolute favorite by now.”

“You and Bethanne are essentially in a tie, and you well know it. You wouldn’t have it any other way. And besides, both of you have yet to challenge a scoundrel to a duel in order to protect the honor of someone we both love,” Tabitha said. “Isaac has you bested on that score.”

Jo frowned ferociously. “But only just. I would have done it if he hadn’t. I’m still sore with him for not allowing me the opportunity. I’m the better shot.”

Of that, Tabitha held no doubts. There was nothing she would put past Josephine Faulkner, including a duel. Jo likely would have managed it with more finesse than their mutual cousin Isaac had, too, taking a clean shot that might not have killed the lecherous bastard. But that was another matter entirely.

“Yes, only just,” Tabitha murmured with a jump when a loud bark of masculine laughter caught her unaware, coming from just beyond the Ladies Kibblewhite and Plumridge. Tabitha dared a surreptitious glance in order to confirm that Lord Oglethorpe had not somehow already returned to the ballroom. Alas, the gentlemen involved in the raucous discussion were all related to her in some manner. Or as good as related to her, at least.

Her brothers, Owen and Toby were conversing rather loudly with Jo’s older brother and his longest friend, the Earl of Leith—a man so close to the Faulkner family he might as well have been one of them. Owen’s brother-in-law, the Marquess of Devonport, was also included in the conversation. From this distance, she could not make out the subject. However, based on Toby’s level of animation, it likely had something to do with horse racing or something else upon which he might have placed a bet.

They ought to keep such discussion to their clubs. It was unseemly to deport themselves so, with innocent young misses strewn about. Not that Tabitha would include herself and Jo in the ‘innocent young misses’ category. Misses they may be, but young was debatable and innocent wouldn’t be an appropriate description for either of them.

But then Owen raised a hand and said something to the others, in particular to Toby, and the laughter died down. Good. Marriage to Lord Devonport’s sister, Elaine, had done wonders for Owen over the last couple of years. He was much more manageable as a brother of late, and Tabitha believed beyond any doubt that Elaine’s influence had played a large part in the change.

Toby could use a hefty dose of the same. Perhaps Lady Kibblewhite had been onto something earlier. Taking a wife would do Toby a world of good. And a bride could take him off Tabitha’s hands, leaving her with only Father to worry about.

“What was that?” Jo asked sharply, pulling Tabitha out of her ruminations.

“What was what?” Tabitha’s eye traveled deliberately from her brothers and their masculine counterparts to her terribly feminine cousin. Jo was a walking contradiction, feminine to a fault in appearance and demeanor, but any man’s equal at the same time.

“You mumbled something about Toby and a bride and Lady Kibblewhite, all in the same worrisome breath. Please don’t force me to explain how very, very bad such an idea would be.” An almost imperceptible shudder coursed through Jo’s lithe frame, visible only to Tabitha.

Waving an impatient hand through the air, Tabitha said, “I didn’t think I’d said anything aloud. But honestly, I think it would solve a world of problems.”

“Lady Kibblewhite is already married,” Jo countered, “so I cannot imagine how her marriage to Toby would do anything but produce even more hindrances than you already have. Particularly since she is as old as Moses and as attractive as an ape. An old, scraggly ape.” Jo scrunched up her nose. “With blue hair.”

The lady in question turned and shot a murderous glare in their general direction. Then she returned to attacking Lady Plumridge with the plumes shooting off her head in a flurry of heated whispers, this time with far more vigor than before.

Tabitha had to curb a snicker. “Please be serious. You cannot think I meant for her to be Toby’s bride. I simply mean that he needs one, something to the effect of which Lady Kibblewhite mentioned earlier.”

“Toby? A bride? You must be feeling ill, Tabby.” Jo whipped her fan to life and waved it dramatically before Tabitha’s face. “Perhaps you ought to step out onto the veranda for some air. It would not do for you to have a fit of the vapors. I didn’t bring my vial of hartshorn with me tonight, and the clamor over such an event would surely alert Lord Oglethorpe to your whereabouts. Or have you forgotten the reason for your current position?”

Just then, Toby and the other gentlemen turned and faced Jo and Tabitha, with Toby rather uncouthly pointing straight at her. The look upon his face was almost...dare she call it gleeful? Owen seemed somber, no less than his norm. Jo’s brother Christopher, Baron Claremont, had an amused quirk to his lips while Lord Leith grinned widely, his piratical grin opening to polished, white teeth which seemed a stark contrast to the rest of his dark features.

But Lord Devonport...something was rather unusual in the manner in which he was looking upon her. He seemed intrigued. Interested, even. His blue eyes sparkled in the candlelight and he smiled at her, his usual cheerful smile, only somehow laced with something more knowing. Not carnal, per se. Certainly not lusty. (Tabitha had to tamp down on a laugh at the mere notion that a gentleman might someday look upon her with lust. Apart from the usual money-lust, of course.) But his look held an air of appreciation. He’d never looked at her in such a way. Not even once, in all the years they’d known each other.

Toby was up to something. Tabitha couldn’t be certain what he was up to, but obviously he was behind this change in the way Lord Devonport was observing her. Tabitha would wager her life on it. Or at least her pin money for the Season.

There was nothing else to be done for it; she would have to strike first.

Waving away the fan Jo was fluttering furiously in her face, Tabitha straightened her spine and stood as tall as she could. Which, admittedly, was not all that tall. Particularly not when standing next to Jo. “I’m perfectly all right,” she said. “In fact, I’m splendid.”

Jo’s eyes brightened considerably. “You look devious all of a sudden. Oh, do tell me what you’re planning.”

Of course she would tell Jo. After all, Tabitha would need assistance to pull it off. If only Bethanne were in Town, she could be in on the plan as well. Alas, their younger cousin was busy taking care of Aunt Rosaline in Derbyshire. Tabitha and Jo would have to manage without her assistance.

Tabitha took one last look at her brother, started briefly when Lord Devonport locked his gaze with hers, and then pulled Jo closer to the wall. “I have a project for this Season. I’m going to find Toby a wife.”

Jo chuckled. “You do realize that your twin is the most consummate of all the confirmed bachelors in Town, do you not?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Tabitha rushed on. “But that hardly signifies. He’ll be powerless once we find the right young lady for the position.” That would be the key to the plan. Finding the right young lady. Toby had a very particular type, so she would have to meet his requirements. Otherwise, he wouldn’t come close to falling head over ears.

“But why would you even want to attempt such a thing?” Jo’s expression was full of dubiousness.

Why? Had Jo gone daft? “Because he drives me to the brink of insanity at every opportunity he gets! Even now, he is over there plotting something. I can see it in his eyes.” Which, at the moment, were glinting across at her with some devilry or another. “You have to help me. You know as well as I do how much better a married brother is to have around than an unmarried brother. Isn’t Christopher more manageable now than either Graham or Patrick? And it’s obvious to anyone with two eyes that Owen is far more biddable these days than Toby.”

“And so you think to force him into something he is altogether set against?” Jo asked dryly.

“Of course.” Tabitha eyed her cousin resolutely. “After we finish with him, we can move on to your younger brothers, if you want.”

Lord Leith winked at Jo then—he actually winked at her. In front of an entire ballroom full of people. How entirely too familiar of him. Tabitha frowned across at him. “Or perhaps you would prefer to focus on Lord Leith before your brothers, since he behaves in a thoroughly inappropriate manner around you all the time.”

“We’ll do no such thing,” Jo replied. “I can handle Leith. As to Graham and Patrick, why don’t we ascertain how your efforts with Toby will progress first?” She didn’t sound convinced that it would work out the way Tabitha had it all planned.

Still, waiting to deal with Jo’s brothers suited Tabitha perfectly well. After all, Toby was the biggest nuisance of all of the men in the family. Even adding up the troublesome qualities of all the other men combined wouldn’t create a sum that could rival Toby’s vexing potential. He was the greatest single source of irritation in Tabitha’s life, with his constant attempts to interfere and his reminders of her status as an overweight spinster.

Granted, her choice to remain a spinster was a purposeful one. She’d made a pact, and she wouldn’t break her word for anything. But he needn’t know that. And if she could somehow occupy him with focusing on his own marital prospects, then maybe, finally, she could be free of his meddling.

“Perfect,” Tabitha said. “Now, let us find our first victim.” She had to restrain herself from rubbing her hands together in glee at the prospect.

Jo chuckled despite her attempted frown.

“Fine, our first project,” Tabitha amended.

This Season could turn out to be rather enjoyable, as long as things went according to her plan and not according to her father’s. Or Toby’s.

Noah deLancie, fifth Marquess of Devonport, had never been alone a day in his life. Yet, dash it all, his earlier conversation with the Earl of Glastonbury had proven that was all about to change.

“What has you looking like someone ran down your puppy with a coach and four?” Toby Shelton asked Noah as he sidled up alongside him.

Mere moments before, Noah had arrived at the Scantlebury ball, issuing apologies to the host and hostess for his tardiness due to his interview with Glastonbury. Noah was just now making his way inside the main ballroom to scour the prospects who could help to alleviate the troublesome situation with which he’d been left.

Shelton passed a glass of lemonade into Noah’s hands before adding almost as an afterthought, “I’ve enhanced that with a little something special.”

Noah had taken a sip before he heard Shelton’s warning. He nearly choked from the burn of whiskey cutting a jagged path down his throat. “A little?” Whiskey and lemonade did not make for a happy marriage in his mouth, particularly since he’d never developed a taste for the foul liquor. He’d have a brandy from time to time, or the odd glass of port. On occasion he had even been known to help himself to some of his mother’s sherry. But never when another gentleman might notice. He’d never hear the end of it if the gentlemen of the ton caught wind of such a propensity.

Shelton ignored Noah’s spluttering, instead raising an eyebrow and snapping his fingers. “Out with it. I need something to add a little excitement to the evening. It’s either pull a fascinating tale out of you or seek out a widow with whom to flirt outrageously. One who somehow isn’t already aware of my penchant for roguery, in the hopes she’ll take me home.” He gave an exaggerated wink and waggled a single eyebrow a few times.

“Wouldn’t this supposed widow then learn of your roguish ways?” Noah asked in an effort to stall. He wasn’t clear in his own mind yet how he felt about the events of the day. It was too soon to tell anyone else. Noah wasn’t ready to have outsiders weigh in on his predicament.

A wide grin spread slowly across Shelton’s face. “Indeed, she would. Which, incidentally, isn’t such a bad thought. I’ll probably do that later. But first I want to know why your breeches are bunched.”

With that Raynesford joined them, coming upon Noah from behind. “How would you know Devonport’s breeches are bunched?” he asked his brother in his typically dry fashion. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. I really don’t want to know.”

Lovely. If one Shelton brother wasn’t enough, the other simply had to show up and delight himself in Noah’s problems. Usually, he enjoyed the company of the two. But tonight could hardly be considered a usual night. He wanted to sulk, to wallow in his own misery. He did not want to divulge private matters—things that ought to be kept between himself and his secretary—to the viscount and his brother.

Besides, Noah’s mother and Glastonbury deserved to break their own news to the gathered crowd, just as each of Noah’s five younger sisters and their respective intendeds (now husbands) had done in recent years. The happy couple in question had yet to make their entrance. Glastonbury’s carriage was just arriving as Noah had walked past the massive window at the top of the stairs.

Shelton took his older brother’s bait with a devilish smile. “What else could possibly cause such an expression on his face? He looks...squeezed? No, that’s not quite right. Perhaps pinched.” A decided nod from Raynesford and the questioning eyes of Leith and Claremont (who had just joined the ever-growing party) confirmed Shelton’s word choice. “Pinched it is.”

Just what Noah needed—more of the Shelton clan interrupting him. He ought to be finding a pretty young heiress and doing his best to cause her to swoon in delight over his charm and dashing good looks. He’d never have the chance if he couldn’t escape these gents, no matter how enjoyable he might find their company, or how much he’d prefer remaining with them than working on the task ahead of him.

“Who is pinching whom?” asked Claremont, giving Shelton a familiar slap on the back. “I want to be involved. Unless we’re pinching one of you lot, of course.”

Leith laughed, which tugged his crooked nose ever so slightly to the left. “And what, pray tell, might your lovely wife have to say about you pinching anyone save herself?”

Claremont shrugged. “What Helen doesn’t know won’t hurt me.”

“And how do you intend to keep her from finding out?” Raynesford asked dryly. “Wives know everything. What they don’t already know, they learn through one of their secret channels.” He sipped from the tumbler in his hand and creased his brow pensively. “They might bribe the servants. Somehow, servants always seem to know everything.”

“All the more reason to avoid marriage in the first place,” Shelton interrupted. His response seemed altogether too chipper. “And while I hope ever so much to remedy the situation later this evening, no one present is currently being pinched. One could hardly tell as much, though, from looking at Devonport here.”

“He looks perfectly content to me,” Raynesford interjected in his dour tone with hardly a glance. “At least he isn’t being dragged by his wife to a musicale tomorrow afternoon in Lady Kirkaldy’s salon.” A severe shudder seemed to course from his head straight down to the ends of his toes.

Dash it all. Noah couldn’t imagine anything Raynesford would enjoy less—nor anything Noah’s sister and Raynesford’s wive, Elaine, would enjoy more, apart from spending an entire day in a room full of toddlers. If he didn’t believe wholeheartedly that Raynesford and Elaine were desperately in love, he’d question why they’d married in the first place, they were so terribly opposite in demeanor.

Before he could offer an apology or commiseration for Raynesford’s impending afternoon of torture, Shelton interrupted the silence. “Perhaps that’s the conundrum, or at least something similar, is it Devonport? Is your mother dragging you along to some insipid social event? Or maybe a lady friend?” He looked around. Shelton’s eyes landed on a few young misses who were watching the group before returning to Noah.

Claremont raised his head in the direction of one young lady in particular. “Miss Tollington has been watching you rather closely since your arrival. Perhaps she expects you to ask her to dance soon.”

Four heads turned as one to look in the direction Claremont had indicated. A very pretty blonde wisp of a thing stood on the edge of the ballroom floor, staring boldly back at them with a come-hither look in her eyes. She hadn’t even bothered to try to conceal her wanton expression behind her fan.

One side of Shelton’s mouth raised in a leering grin. “I’d say she wants far more than your name on her dance card. For that matter, I wouldn’t mind giving her a bit of what she’s looking for, myself.” Shelton’s hands moved about in a way that made it abundantly clear what he was thinking.

Luckily they were still standing in a close circle. Noah hoped no one else had seen Shelton’s gestures.

The others broke out in a raucous chorus of laughter at Shelton’s antics though, drawing a number of eyes from around the ballroom. Heat rose in Noah’s face. This wasn’t appropriate, not in the middle of a genteel ballroom, not in regards to an innocent young lady.

But then Raynesford raised a hand. “We ought,” he said, using more force than was his wont and turning in particular to his brother, “to be more discreet in our topics of conversation.” Good. Raynesford could deal with his brother’s insensitive behavior and leave Noah out of it. Shelton scowled, but said no more.

Noah pushed thoughts of his sister’s brother-in-law aside for the moment and let them instead return to the young lady they’d been discussing. “Tollington,” he murmured. “Isn’t Lord Tollington already halfway to debtor’s prison? That won’t do.”

He regretted saying it aloud as soon as the words passed his lips. By gad, he’d intended to keep his private matters to himself. Now they’d press him for more.

Sure enough, Leith leaned in closer, his eyes widening, though whether from excitement or concern, Noah couldn’t distinguish. “Won’t do? Why not?”

Shelton chortled indelicately. The man really had no shame.

Claremont shook his head briefly. “Seems a disgrace not to dance with a pretty thing like that just because her father is low on funds.”

“You go dance with her then,” Noah said.

“Afraid I can’t. Helen forbade me to dance with any unmarried ladies tonight. She seems to think I’m giving them the wrong impression for some reason. Is it my fault I’m more handsome by half than the lot of you combined?” Claremont ran his fingers through the side of his rich, auburn hair. “I think she’s green because of the way they look at me.”

Raynesford chuckled, which startled them all. Noah couldn’t remember ever hearing such a sound of mirth from the man, not in the many years they’d known each other. “They won’t still be ogling you in a few more months. Your marriage is new. The novelty will wear off before a year’s out, and then you’ll be as nondescript to them as I am.”

“You’re all off the point,” Shelton interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest in an almost menacing fashion. “Devonport, why won’t Miss Tollington do? Why does it matter if her father’s in debt? You’re the bloody Marquess of Devonport. You’ve got more properties than you know what to do with.”

Apparently, none of the Shelton men had any intention of backing down from their line of questioning until they got the answer they were searching for. For once in his life, Noah wished he had a foul mouth. Cursing seemed entirely appropriate here.

He closed his eyes for a moment. “If I could sell my properties, I would. Lord knows I’ve sold all that weren’t under entail.”

Shelton started to interrupt with some random, incoherent spluttering, before Raynesford cut him off with a single glance.

“When my father inherited the marquessate, it was already deeply in debt. The previous marquess, Father’s uncle, had a penchant for gambling above his means. Even with selling everything I could and cutting down to only the essential staff to keep my estates running, I’m barely holding my creditors at bay.”

“Then why on earth,” cut in Raynesford, his voice low and unruffled, “did you offer such a substantial sum for Elaine’s dowry? And her sisters, as well? Good Lord, Devonport, you have five sisters. That’s a significant fortune you gave away. Wouldn’t that money have been put to better use in digging the marquessate out from the rubble?”

“But they are my sisters,” Noah responded. What other reason did there need to be?

The other four Shelton men stood staring at him, some with their jaws hanging agape, others with their eyes bulging. Leith shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

Shelton’s eyes narrowed in consternation. “Surely they could have married with smaller dowries, though.” His voice made it sound as though they could have married well with almost nonexistent dowries, or maybe with no dowries at all. Not likely, with his contemporaries.

Noah couldn’t believe that these men—all but one of whom had sisters of their own—were being so thick they couldn’t understand his obligation to his own. “I had to see to their futures.”

“What of your future? I would have had Elaine, dowry or not,” Raynesford said quietly. “I love her. I believe I am not overstepping my position in saying the same for the gentlemen who married her sisters.”

Raynesford might very well be right about that. But still, Noah had done what he thought best for his family at the time. Family had to come first. “What’s done is done. The point is that now I’ve got to marry, and soon—and I have to marry for money, however distasteful I find the idea. I need an heiress or a lady with a massive dowry settled upon her if I’m going to somehow avoid debtor’s prison myself. Miss Tollington won’t do. Any brilliant ideas on where I should start looking?”

Claremont cocked his head slightly to the side with an introspective frown. “Well, I believe that Lady Hannah Bullfinch has a dowry of ten thousand. It would seem her father recognizes that she looks rather like a bull’s backside and therefore will be difficult to place, barring the incentive of some decent coin.”

“Her personality matches her face though,” Leith said with his brow puckering. “I wouldn’t wish her on my worst enemy. Devonport is far from anyone’s enemy.”

“What about Miss Jennings?” asked Raynesford. “She has no siblings, so she’ll inherit a vast portion.”

Noah’s brow puckered. “Miss Jennings? I’m not sure I know her.”

Raynesford pointed inconspicuously. “Over by the punch bowl. The brunette in white.”

She was certainly pretty, but terribly young. “Has she just come out? What on earth can I talk about with a girl who is hardly out of the schoolroom?” But he really couldn’t afford to be overly selective. So far, she seemed like his best option.

“Probably,” Claremont said. “But as young as she is, she’ll be eager to please. You won’t need to talk to her too much. Just get to business and secure the line.”

Eager to please? Was that what he wanted in a wife? For some reason, he had allowed himself to entertain the idea of having a companion, someone whose company he would enjoy. Someone with whom he could share his life with, not someone who would try to do exactly what he wanted. He didn’t even know for sure what he wanted, so it would vex him to no end to have a wife trying to give that elusive something to him. Noah knew, without a doubt, he wanted a wife he could do more with than simply ‘secure the line.’ But what option did he have? The longer it took to find a suitable bride, the more ominous his situation seemed.

“Right,” Noah said. He straightened his back and schooled his features into compliance. What characteristics should he try to assume? Charming. Amicable. Reputable. Time to make himself look like the perfect gentleman so that her chaperone would grant him an introduction. “I suppose I’d better be off to sign her dance card then.”

He hadn’t taken two steps when Shelton’s voice carried over the din of the crush. “Have you all taken leave of your senses? What about Tabitha?”

Noah’s feet froze in place, one of them in mid-stride. Tabitha? Lady Tabitha Shelton? Raynesford and Shelton’s sister?

Surely, Shelton had to be joking. He’d never offer his sister up to a fortune hunter. No gentleman could do something like that to his sister, or for that matter to anyone he loved, and still call himself a gentleman. Good Lord, she was his twin! Slowly, painstakingly, Noah turned to face the group only moments before he’d been departing.

Shelton didn’t appear to be joking. In fact, he looked as serious as an apoplectic fit. “Father’s just raised her dowry again,” he drawled. “How much do you still owe, Devonport?”

Noah told them the amount beneath his breath, hoping they wouldn’t think less of him for it. It wasn’t his fault he was in this situation, after all. Not entirely, at least. No matter what, there wasn’t a lady in all of England who could have a dowry so great as that.

“Perfect!” Shelton said. “Tabitha’s dowry will clear you of that, even with the amount Father will insist on having placed in trust for her. I’d wager she’ll be a damn sight more interesting to talk to for the rest of your life than Miss Jennings.”

There was a lot of truth in that statement. Noah couldn’t pretend otherwise. He’d known Lady Tabitha for more than five years, since Raynesford had first started courting Elaine. For that matter, they’d always gotten on rather well.

But no. He couldn’t. He couldn’t possibly use her in such a way. She deserved to be married because the gentleman offering for her loved her, because he wanted to marry her and spend his life with her, not because she had a dowry so large Croesus would be blue in the face from envy and the fact that the so-called gentleman needed funds.

Raynesford narrowed his eyes, looking broodingly between Noah and where Lady Tabitha stood against the wall just across the way. “You would suit her,” he said in his typical matter-of-fact tone.

Noah held his hands up before him. “I couldn’t possibly—”

“You two already get on like a couple of magpies in a shade tree,” Claremont interjected. “She likes you. She talks to you. Tabitha wouldn’t be nearly as engaging with you if she wasn’t comfortable with you.”

“But I can’t—”

“She seems to suit you too,” Leith tossed in, “based on the way you look at her when you think no one’s watching.” Leith eyed him knowingly. “You watch her the way I...” His voice trailed off, but his eyes flickered briefly over to Lady Tabitha’s cousin, Miss Faulkner.

Noah felt like he was drowning in the sea of their reasons. “But I don’t look at her—”

Raynesford cut him off. “You do.”

“And she is the solution to your problem,” Shelton said, pointing definitively across the ballroom. He had a triumphant smile plastered across his face. “She’s not a debutante—not by a mile. She’ll bring a heftier settlement into the marriage than any other lady you could find. She has more than three thoughts in her head, though I can’t for the life of me imagine why you care about that.” Shelton’s expression said that Noah was addled beyond redemption. “And clearly you already find her at least passably attractive. What are you waiting for? Go ask her to dance.”

Noah looked to Raynesford, hoping for commiseration, but a grim expression of resigned determination was set in his brother-in-law’s eyes and the clench of his jaw. Claremont and Leith were both grinning, and Claremont even nodded in Lady Tabitha’s direction. By gad, they were all in this together, the four of them. For all he knew, they might have even planned to ambush him like this.

But how could they have known he was financially strapped? They couldn’t have. Noah brushed the thought away. Whether it was planned ahead of time or not, they were conspiring against him now.

Noah shook his head then turned to join the others in staring at Lady Tabitha. She gave a tiny jump before staring back at him across the ballroom floor. A sleek, soft green gown hugged her curves in ways that sent blood straight to his loins. It wasn’t overly revealing, not like most ladies tended to wear these days—indeed, it was quite the opposite of the current fashions. The bodice covered her rounded bosom, leaving his imagination to conjure the luscious mounds of flesh that strained against the fabric. When she moved, the silk tugged against curvaceous hips that flared out from her waist before falling gracefully back into place.

What he wouldn’t give to place his hands on those hips and draw her near.

“That look,” Leith said, jerking Noah back to the conversation. “That’s the look I’ve been talking about. Like you want to find a private little alcove somewhere and—”

“That’s my sister you’re talking about, Leith,” Raynesford said. “Watch it.”

Noah forced his eyes up to Lady Tabitha’s face and was startled to discover her silvery grey eyes staring back at him with a question burning at their core. He had to admit to himself, he could happily stare into her eyes for hours. However, it didn’t seem altogether prudent to admit as much to Raynesford at the moment.

“And that’s my sister you’re devouring with your eyes, Devonport.”

“Yes,” Noah replied. His voice cracked. His mouth felt dry. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to form any more of a response.

Raynesford just looked at him appraisingly.

“Perhaps he ought to go ask her to dance,” Shelton said. “Since we are all in agreement that he enjoys looking at her. He could look at her more closely that way.”

“Yes,” Raynesford said. “I think Devonport ought to do just that. And quickly.” He clapped a hand on Noah’s shoulder and gave a little push. Noah walked blindly across the ballroom toward Lady Tabitha—the only person that existed in his line of sight anymore.

“But don’t let her know you need money,” Shelton said conspiratorially as Noah bemusedly walked away. “She loathes fortune hunters. There’s nothing she abhors more. Except, perhaps, for me.”

Well, there was a cheerful thought.

Tabitha turned to scour the ballroom. “Some flighty young thing,” she said to Jo. “Pretty. She’ll have to be pretty. Probably a blonde, but he might go for a brunette. Clear complexion. And none too bright. Toby wouldn’t have any idea what to do with a lady who can think for herself.”

“Aren’t you being a little bit harsh on him?” Jo said on a laugh. “He is your brother, after all.”

“Precisely. He’s my brother. My twin brother, in case you’ve forgotten. I rather think I know him better than just about anyone else in all of England.”

Tabitha raised herself up on her tiptoes to get a better look at the sea of silly, young things in their pastel confections. “Oh, damn and blast. I can’t see well enough from here. I think I might have to venture out a bit.” She took a tentative step around the potted plant directly before her and moved closer to the fringes of the dance floor. “Stand in front of me and block me from Oglethorpe’s view, will you?”

“Absolutely not. If you want to be meddlesome, you’re going to have to deal with the consequences.” Jo stood beside Tabitha, digging her heels in when Tabitha tried physically to move her. “I do heartily approve of the meddling, but you know how I feel about the hiding.”

“You’re being utterly foul. You do realize that, don’t you?” Tabitha couldn’t prevent the scowl from overtaking her features.

Jo clucked her tongue. “Of course I do. But aren’t we supposed to be looking for an attractive imbecile with whom to thwart your brother?”

“It won’t work.” The smooth, rich voice of Lord Devonport reverberated at Tabitha’s other side, and she jumped. “He fully intends not to be foiled by you, Lady Tabitha.”

She pinched her eyes closed. Blast, how had she not noticed Lord Devonport coming her way? She’d as soon die of mortification as allow him to hear her plans for Toby. But it was too late for that.

Still, maybe the gentleman would prove himself useful.

“And what, pray tell, is he planning, Lord Devonport?” Steeling herself, Tabitha turned to face him. The laughter in his eyes never ceased to captivate her. Someone ought to find a way to bottle that joy so everyone could experience it. “Surely you know, since you’ve been over there with him this last half hour. What does he intend to do to me this time?”

“Alas, I cannot tell. I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

“Would it not be more gallant to warn a lady of a plot against her, my lord? Surely you must recognize the difficulty of my position.”

The smile moved down to his lips. They looked soft, like velvet. Tabitha had a sudden, irresistible urge to kiss them, just to find out for sure. But that was a ridiculous notion.

“Ah, but you do not seem to recognize the inherent problems of mine.”

The way Lord Devonport stared at her was more than just a little unnerving. Tabitha realized she was toying with her necklace and forced herself to stop, allowing her arms to fall straight at her side.

“And neither of you recognize the adversity of mine,” Jo said. Her voice seemed much louder than either of theirs had been, though surely no one else could hear her. “If you’ll excuse me, I must go and visit with Lady Crestridge. That shade of evening primrose makes her complexion look downright ghastly.”

Jo strolled away, and as usual, a series of eyes followed her path across the ballroom, Tabitha’s included. When she turned back to Lord Devonport, however, his eyes had not left Tabitha’s person. Oh, why had Jo decided to abandon her? She’d been Tabitha’s one source of protection against...against what, precisely? Surely she didn’t need protection from Lord Devonport, a perfectly agreeable gentleman—one who was essentially family.

So why did she feel like she needed fortification? Why, all of a sudden, did his gaze make her skin tingle? The prickles of goose flesh that had popped up along her arms were perplexing. Tabitha wasn’t cold—rather she was exceedingly warm—and she was experiencing the joint, warring desires to leave Lord Devonport’s presence without looking back and to draw closer to him.

Tabitha had been attracted to men before. More than attracted, actually. She’d thought herself in love with one of her father’s footmen once upon a time. But James Marshall had never made her feel quite like this—nervous and flighty, and somehow even a little bit attractive. On second thought, maybe Jo had been right. Maybe she was feeling ill. No gentleman in possession of his faculties would ever find her attractive. She brushed the notion away and faced Lord Devonport again.

“The inherent problems of your position?” she asked, wishing her words had not come out sounding strangled. Good Lord, it sounded like she was attempting to swallow an entire flock of geese. “And what might those be?”

“Surely you can work that out on your own, my lady.”

He leaned closer to her and the heat of his body wafted a trail of his cologne over her. It was musky and spicy and manly; it tingled against her nose and tantalized her to draw closer to him.

“If I am to maintain my reputation as a gentleman in your eyes,” he said, his voice hardly more than a whisper, “I must divulge secrets that are not mine to tell. However, if I am to maintain the same in the eyes of your family, I may do nothing of the sort.”

His eyes bored into hers. Tabitha felt as though he could see straight into her mind, directly into her heart. Her pulse beat a frantic pace against her neck. She wished he would touch her right there, just below the lobe of her ear, to calm the pulsing, heated flow.

“Indeed,” she said. “That is quite a predicament.”

“Perhaps you would do me the honor of dancing with me. It might gain us a bit of time so we can decide what must be done about the situation.”

Sure enough, the ballroom floor before them was once again beginning to fill with couples taking their positions for the next set. She ought to refuse. Dancing always made her feel like everyone was watching her.

Tabitha didn’t want anyone to watch her. She wanted to disappear into the background where no one would stare at her plumpness and think horrid things of her. Granting a dance to Lord Devonport would surely catch the attention of Lord Oglethorpe, thereby forcing her to redouble her efforts to disappear after the set was over.

But then he placed her hand in the crook of his arm, and the intoxicating heat of him traveled the entire length of her side. She was enveloped in his scent as he led her to the middle of the ballroom and took her into his arms. One hand gently gripped hers and the other settled at her back.

Oh, blast. It was to be a waltz. Why could it not be a reel or a quadrille, something where she could regain her senses and rediscover her ability to converse? Something where he wouldn’t be touching her. Something where he wouldn’t feel all the valleys and crevices of her body beneath her gown. This, more than anything else, was precisely why she tended to avoid dancing, in general.

When the music began, he nudged her into motion and Tabitha looked up at him. Lord Devonport still had not stopped smiling down at her with those bedeviling blue eyes. It ought to be illegal for a man to have such beautiful eyes, particularly when God had seen fit to grant her such lackluster and uninspiring eyes.

“What are you thinking?” he asked congenially. “I doubt I’ve ever seen you so perplexed.”

Well, maybe he couldn’t quite read every thought in her head. There was one small favor. “Why have you asked me to dance?”

Lord Devonport laughed. It was a rich sound. Full. One she had heard countless times before. One which she could never grow tired of hearing. “Not fair, answering a question with a question.”

“At least I was honest,” Tabitha retorted, even while acknowledging to herself that it wasn’t full honesty. “I was wondering why you’d asked me to dance. So why have you?” And why was he tightening his hold at her back, drawing her closer to him, instead of attempting to put more distance between them? Her heart took up an irregular rhythm in her chest, and her breathing soon matched it.

He twirled her around in his arms, gracefully guiding her through the other couples. In his arms, waltzing felt like the most natural thing she could be doing. He made her feel light on her feet and elegant. Yet the eyes of the ton trailed over them, prickling at Tabitha’s skin. Staring at them. Wondering why he would be paying her any attention.

“I asked you to dance because I wanted to dance with you,” Lord Devonport said.

So he wouldn’t play fair. “Very well. So if I promise not to let on that you’ve told me, will you tell me what devilry Toby is up to?”

Lord Devonport regarded her for just a moment longer than necessary. “No.” The monosyllable was almost inaudible, but firm.

“Why not?”

“Why should I trust you won’t think me to be involved in his plans?”

“Stop answering my questions with questions.”

A practiced, naturally charming smile worked its way into every corner of his features. A smile meant to melt a lady into submission. “I believe you started us on this course, if I’m not mistaken.”

Tabitha would not be melted into submission, not by Lord Devonport or any man. She pierced him with her frostiest glare. “You are in on it. You’re here, dancing with me, because Toby sent you.” Lord Devonport did not deny her accusation. He just looked at her with those same blazing, blue eyes, but they were now filled with something she could not quite decipher. What an utter fool she’d been, to allow herself to think for even a moment that any man would admire her. “I am not feeling well. Excuse me.” She removed herself from his grasp, turned on her heel, and fled from the ballroom, not stopping until she reached the ladies’ retiring room.

She silently cursed Toby for being Toby, cursed Owen for not stopping Toby from being Toby, cursed Jo for deserting her when she needed her most, cursed Lord Oglethorpe for having her in a state to begin with, cursed Lord Devonport for the prickles still running over her entire body, and cursed herself for being an absolute ninny.

And blast it all, she hadn’t found an unsuspecting debutante to toss into Toby’s path yet.

Noah watched the backside of Lady Tabitha—a bit more thoroughly than he ought to have done—as she scurried out of his presence. What on earth had just happened? It was crazy enough that he’d gone along with Shelton’s suggestion to pursue her. After all, something had to be afoot, something he was unaware of, if both brothers were encouraging him in this manner, particularly when they knew she would despise it. But for her to respond favorably to his attentions at first, and then become as warm as a colossal block of ice? What had he missed in that conversation? What oughtn’t he to have done?

The sudden change in her deportment hadn’t been some figment of his imagination, either. It had happened as surely as she had feigned illness in order to escape. Noah had been surrounded by women his entire life. He would never be so brash or foolish as to claim to completely understand them, but he came a lot closer to doing so than the vast majority of his contemporaries.

Noah wasn’t certain how long he stood alone in the middle of the ballroom floor, but he suddenly realized the other dancers were clearing off and turning to face the dais, with a few of them left staring at him. What a dolt he must look, having been abandoned by his partner in the midst of the waltz.

Claremont and Leith stood off to the side of the ballroom, gesturing frantically to him. As he made his way across the floor to stand beside them, Noah became vaguely aware that his mother and Glastonbury were standing with Lord Scantlebury on the platform, looking fit to burst with their news. In all that had happened since his arrival this evening, he’d nearly forgotten their intention to announce their betrothal tonight.

Scantlebury held up his hands and started to speak, and the hubbub dulled to the level of a kitten’s mewl. Noah couldn’t hear what their host was saying, however, due to Claremont’s insistent chatter in his ear.

“What in God’s name just happened out there? Did you insult my cousin?”

“Of course I didn’t.” At least he didn’t think he had. Dash it all, what if he had somehow inadvertently affronted her? Raynesford would never let him hear the end of it. Shelton would likely do something far more impetuous, not to mention far more injurious to Noah’s person.

“Then why did Lady Tabitha leave you out there?” Leith pressed him.

“You’ve done something to upset her as sure as I’m standing here,” Claremont said. “She looked close to tears.”

Close to tears? He’d made her cry. He was a cad, through and through. He should be horsewhipped. Gentlemen who left ladies in tears were no gentlemen at all. Still, now was not the time for this discussion. “Do keep your voices down. I’m trying to hear what they’re saying. We’ll discuss this later.”

Leith gave a halfhearted chuckle. “You know good and well what they’re saying. They’re just announcing the betrothal. You’re her son, for Christ’s sake. Surely you already knew that.”

Of course he already knew, but listening to their declaration would at least buy Noah some time to figure out what had gone wrong when he danced with Lady Tabitha. “How did you two know? They’re only revealing it now.”

Claremont’s ambiguous expression greeted him. “Glastonbury has been chasing after your mother for nearly a year, and she hasn’t exactly been discouraging his attentions, now has she? I doubt more than a dozen people present aren’t already fully aware that they intend to marry. Stop avoiding the issue at hand. What did you do to Tabitha?”

By Jove, these Shelton men were next to impossible to put off the hunt when they smelled blood. By this point, Glastonbury’s announcement had been made and the crowd had burst into clamorous cheers. There was no more point in attempting to listen. No more point in attempting to avoid Claremont and Leith’s questions.

Noah dragged a hand through his hair, more than likely mussing it beyond repair. “I don’t know. I don’t have any idea what happened. She was smiling and enjoying herself with me one minute, talking and laughing and the like, and then the next she wasn’t. Then she left. You two seem to know more about what happened after she left me than I do. I only know she walked away.” Crying. Good God, he ought to be hanged.

“You have to fix it,” Claremont insisted. “Whatever you did, you need to undo. I hope for your sake Owen and Toby didn’t notice the way she darted away.”

“No, that wouldn’t do at all,” Leith said. “But I think Raynesford was in the card room. No telling where Shelton got off to. He probably found a lusty widow to entertain. Either way, you have time to make amends before they discover what you’ve done.”

This was utterly maddening. “How can they discover what I’ve done if even I don’t know what I’ve done?” Claremont and Leith merely looked at him with a combination of pity and annoyance.

Noah sighed. “This whole affair was an absolute fiasco. I can’t believe I agreed to go along with it in the first place.” Particularly since he actually felt more than just a modicum of affection for the lady in question. He had disappointed himself more than anyone else. “I think it will be best if I look elsewhere. Lady Tabitha seems disinclined to play along.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Claremont frowned. “Fiasco or not, you’ll still have to sort it out. Don’t give up on Tabitha just yet.”

“But,” Leith started, eyeing his long-time friend askance, “perhaps it would not hurt for Devonport to see what other offerings the marriage mart has to offer. Why don’t you and I join him tomorrow at the musicale? We can help steer him in the direction of young misses who could suit his needs. You can bring Helen along. She and Elaine would enjoy that, at least.”

Pinching half his lips into a frown, Claremont eventually nodded. “Leith and I will leave you to it. Looks like you’ve got a crush waiting to offer their congratulations and well wishes for your mother’s engagement. We’ll see you tomorrow at Lady Kirkaldy’s event.”

They turned and left. Within moments, a sea of gentlemen swarmed Noah, shaking his hand and clapping him on the back. No means of escape were left open to him.

The door to the ladies’ retiring room opened and slammed shut. Tabitha winced from the fresh pang that assaulted her head.

“What on earth do you mean by leaving Devonport in the middle of the ballroom and rushing off to hide in here?” Jo’s voice continued to pound in Tabitha’s head long after her words had ceased.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” Tabitha replied, holding a hand over her eyes to block out the pain. In all honesty, she did have a headache now, even if she hadn’t when she’d taken flight to escape Lord Devonport’s presence. If it hadn’t been fully formed when she’d left him, the interim thirty minutes or so of analyzing every aspect of their interaction had completed the job.

“What an utter fib.” How could Jo always see straight through her? Highly irritating, that. “Tell me what really happened. And don’t you dare try to mince your words. I’ll know. It will save us both a lot of trouble if you’ll just be out with it straight from the beginning.”

Tabitha glanced around, making certain no one else could overhear, even though she’d been in the exact same spot for long enough to already know they were absolutely alone. Perhaps she was just trying to stall—to avoid having to answer her cousin. If she could put off telling Jo, then maybe she could put off admitting it all to herself.

But then Jo scowled and planted her hands on her hips in a perfect imitation of Tabitha’s late mother. “Tabitha Eleanor Shelton, you answer me right this minute. What happened out there?”

“I don’t know! I don’t have the first iota of an inkling what happened.” Which, truth be told, was all the more perplexing. “Lord Devonport asked me to dance, and he never asks me to dance. I thought he refrained because he knows I don’t like it. But tonight he asked me, and then we were dancing and talking, and he was smiling at me with those devilishly handsome eyes, and I was tingling from the tips of my ears to the soles of my feet. I could have sworn he was flirting with me, but we both know that isn’t possible, because why on earth would a gentleman like Lord Devonport possibly flirt with a stout old maid like me? But even still, I think I wanted him to be flirting with me, which is perhaps even more ridiculous a thought since it couldn’t possibly ever happen. And then I realized how irrational I was being, and I knew he had to be going along with whatever Toby was planning, and that was that. I wasn’t going to play along with his games any more, and I left.”

Finally Tabitha took a breath. Hot, salty tear tracks were coursing down her cheeks. Good God, why was she crying? She hastily brushed them away and looked up at Jo, whose expression, for once, was indiscernible.

“You have feelings for him,” her cousin murmured.

“Well of course I have feelings for him,” Tabitha said. “He’s practically family. He’s Elaine’s brother, and he’s been spending his holidays with us for five years. He’s almost like a brother. Which makes me even more a ninny than I already was.”

“No,” Jo said, unruffled. “You misunderstand me. Perhaps purposefully.” Her eyes narrowed a bit, but she pressed on. “You have an affection for him that isn’t like a brotherly affection. Maybe even a bit of a tendre?”

“Don’t be absurd.” Tabitha sniffed. She couldn’t possibly have those sorts of feelings for Lord Devonport, could she? “And even if I do, he certainly doesn’t return them. And even if he did, I could never act on them. Old Maids’ Club. Remember? I have no intention of breaking our pact. Not now. Not ever.”

Not even if it broke her heart to do so.

Jo eyed her discerningly as she sat down on the settee beside her. She took Tabitha’s hand in her own and squeezed. “Yes.” Then she lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of Tabitha’s as a single, wet stream trailed its way down her cheek. “I remember. How very well I remember.”

Raynesford and Elaine arrived at deLancie house the following evening to collect Noah and his mother. Mother had announced her plans to meet Glastonbury there before Noah took her home after the Scantlebury soiree last night. Noah, Leith, and Claremont had informed Raynesford of their intentions to attend as well. Raynesford had kindly offered the use of his carriage. Claremont and Leith would meet them there.

Raynesford had also informed Noah that, after rushing away from him at the Scantlebury ball, Lady Tabitha had sent Miss Faulkner to fetch him. Nearly an hour had passed by that time, which made Noah feel more like a scoundrel than ever. She claimed to be suffering from a megrim to the point of incapacitation, and she had insisted upon going home at once.

Based on her claims, Raynesford and Shelton seemed to believe whatever had happened hadn’t been Noah’s fault. Fortune had seen fit to smile down upon him, at least in that instance.

And, as luck would have it (at least as far as Noah was concerned), the ailment seemed to still have Lady Tabitha in its grips. Meaning she would not also be accompanying them that evening. He wasn’t sure he was ready to see her again, especially since he had caused her such distress without knowing how he’d done it.

A night without her company would allow him to search out some of his other options. He’d heard a rumor that the young Miss Jennings would be present at the musicale. If fortune truly wanted to favor him, perhaps he would discover another heiress or two while he was there, with Claremont and Leith’s help, of course. They seemed to be more in the know when it came to which young ladies might have a settlement coming into her marriage than Noah was.

He really ought to have been paying more attention to these things. He’d known this would eventually come to pass since well before his father had died. There was no excuse for not taking matters into his own hands a long time ago.

When they were all situated in the carriage and on their way, Noah’s mother faced Raynesford and Elaine. “And you assure me Lady Tabitha will be quite well soon? You’re certain? I was so terribly worried when I saw her rushing away last night. Glastonbury refused to let me take off after her since we were about to make our announcement, you know. But we found Miss Faulkner a few moments later instead, and she seemed cock-sure she could handle the matter.”

Elaine reached across the carriage and took her hand. “Yes, Mother. She’ll be fine. Already today she is doing much better. But you know how the megrims can be.”

“Oh, that I do. How could I not, with five daughters?” She laughed and sat back in her seat, fidgeting with the grayed knot at the nape of her neck. “And Raynesford, how is your horse breeding coming along? Any foals yet?”

Raynesford started, then sat ramrod straight, staring at Noah’s mother like a mouse that wanted to scurry away when caught in the light. “Two foals, madam.” He didn’t elaborate. Hardly surprising.

“Oh, how delightful. Will you be letting Lily ride one of them?”

His eyes came close to bulging out of his head. “My daughter is hardly a year old. She has no need for a horse.”

“It will be many years before she starts to ride, Mother,” Elaine said, laughing over at her husband. “There will be plenty of other foals before the time for that arrives.”

“Where are you stabling them?” Noah asked. Not that he needed to spend any money at the moment on more horses. But he might like to go and take a look sometime, at any rate.

“Tewkesbury Stables. Let me know when you’d like to go and I’ll work it out. Perhaps you could accompany Tabitha. She’d like to come and see them, too. She’s not much on fully grown horses, but she’s always loved the foals.”

Splendid. Noah tried to quash a frown. So Raynesford hadn’t given up on the idea yet. He knew better than to expect Shelton to have forgotten about it all, but some small part of him had hoped the elder brother would have let the notion of his sister becoming Lady Devonport slip away into the netherworld.

“Oh, I would quite enjoy that too, Owen,” Elaine said. “Perhaps we could make a day of it. I’m sure Noah would agree, won’t you?”

“I’d be delighted.” He really had no choice now.

Mercifully at that moment, the carriage jostled to a stop and one of Raynesford’s men came around to set down the steps. Noah climbed down and reached in to hand his mother out, then waited for Raynesford to do the same with Elaine, and then they went as one up the steps to Lady Kirkaldy’s home.

Glastonbury greeted them as they were ushered into the salon. A cursory glance showed him that Leith and Claremont had yet to arrive. But moments later, Noah was blissfully able to slip away from the group and comb the gathering for young, unmarried ladies who might be attached to a sizeable fortune on his own.

Miss Jennings and her mother had not yet arrived. The eligible misses seemed to be assembled in groups of varying number about the edges of the room like small families of ducks, each situated around a leader of sorts.

Noah recognized Lady Miriam Smallworth at the helm of one set. He’d have to avoid them. From all indications, Lady Miriam had inherited her mother’s vulture-like tendencies.

The next group over was smaller, with only three young ladies. Noah could only identify one of them as a lady he’d met before, and she hadn’t made enough of an impression for him to recall her name.

He moved on to the next group, which consisted of six debutantes. Here he could make out both Miss Olive Whitby and Miss Phillips, neither of whom was particularly dreadful, but he also knew that neither held a particularly sizeable dowry. Still, perhaps the group with the two of them and their friends might be a good place for him to start his socializing for the evening.

He took a glass of lemonade from the tray of a passing footman and started across the room, only to change directions in mid-stride when Claremont winked at him from where he and Leith were leaning against a window on the far side of the room.

“Already set to work on your prospects, then?” Claremont asked as Noah drew closer to them.

“Evening, Devonport,” said Leith with a cheerful grin that made his dark features slightly less menacing. Only slightly, though.

Noah nodded to them each in turn. “Good to see you both. So none of the ladies in that circle has a decent portion? I thought to start there since I at least have a passing acquaintance with a couple of them.”

“An acquaintance to a dowry-less chit won’t help you in any way. You know that.” Claremont crossed his arms and scanned the room. “In the group over there by the pianoforte, the little redhead? That’s Lady Cressica Frost. Her father’s made a fortune at the gambling tables, and he has no intention of letting his winnings fall to his nephew. She’s set to inherit about forty thousand, give or take, depending on how much Hackshaw can avoid having tied up in the entailments.”

“She doesn’t look a day older than fourteen,” Noah replied. “And she’s so emaciated I can see every bone in her body. She might break if I sneezed on her.”

“True.” Claremont shrugged. “But forty thousand. Think about it.” He looked over the gathering again until he found another possibility. Pointing over to the group with Miss Olive and Miss Phillips, the one where Noah had initially been headed, he said, “And the tall brunette in pink over there? That’s Miss Jacinda Leatham. Her father died over a year ago. I don’t know the exact sum she’s got in trust, but I do know it is more than fifty. She’s only just come out this Season. The fortune hunters will be all over her in no time. You should try to make an impression before the others get their chance.”

Miss Leatham didn’t seem much older than Lady Cressica, but at least she looked a bit sturdier. With her, Noah needn’t worry that a misstep would cause her to crumble to a pile of ash at his feet. She was a possibility.

Claremont gestured toward a third grouping, with a bushy-haired blonde and two auburn-haired ladies. Two of the three, at least, appeared older than the majority of the crowd. “Those are Somerton’s sisters, Lady Sophia Hardwicke and Lady Charlotte Hardwicke. I’m not sure who the other lady is with them. But I would imagine he’s placed quite the settlement on both his sisters. Lady Sophia, in particular, since she’s no spring chicken.”

“But have you seen the way she looks at gentlemen who try to dance with her?” Leith cut in, his black eyes wide. “I don’t think we should direct Devonport in her path.”

“And Lady Charlotte is a bit green, yet. Rather too exuberant.”

Claremont looked over at her again and Noah followed the path of his eyes. The younger girl was talking expressively, using her hands and arms to emphasize her point. She struck the poor blonde lady in the face, surprising her and knocking the glass from her hands. Sherry spilled down the front of the blonde’s gown, and she flushed profusely as Lady Charlotte dabbed at the mess.

No, the Hardwicke sisters did not seem his best options. He thanked Claremont and Leith for the information, and then made his way over to the group of young ladies with Miss Leatham. After a round of introductions, Noah situated himself between her and Miss Phillips.

“Lovely weather we’ve had of late, is it not?” Miss Leatham said. Her voice was airy. Fitting for her choice of conversational topics.

“Yes, quite,” he replied. “Not a cloud in the sky all day today. If it remains clear tomorrow, I might like to go for a promenade at Hyde Park.” Noah left the unasked question hanging in the air. Maybe she would give him a little encouragement.

“Oh. Yes, I suppose you might. I should hope for rain by the end of the week, though. The hyacinths in Mother’s garden could do with a touch of rain.”

Good gracious, was she truly so dull-witted that she hadn’t understood his insinuation? Perhaps he’d try again later. “I’m sure we’ll have rain again before too long, Miss Leatham. After all, this is England. Which performance tonight are you most anticipating? I rather enjoy the Beethoven sonata for pianoforte, myself. And the Haydn is always enchanting.”

“I don’t believe I know any of the pieces to be performed tonight, my lord. I’m sure I shall enjoy them all equally well, though.”

“Indeed.”

She neglected to offer another topic of discussion, and Noah was thankful for the few moments of silence this afforded. He said a silent prayer of gratitude when Lady Kirkaldy hurried them all to their seats.

The sonata was undeniably excellent. A soprano solo followed, leaving him with chills and goose flesh. Miss Leatham, however, did not seem to be stirred in the least by either performance.

His thoughts kept drifting to how very different such an evening would be if he were in the company of Lady Tabitha instead. Music, in general, never failed to capture her imagination and attention. They had conversed for hours at length about their favorite performances over the years.

Sometimes, until Lady Tabitha’s cousin had left to care for their aunt, Miss Bethanne Shelton would play the pianoforte in Newcastle’s home for hours. Noah loved coming upon a group of them surrounding her, all engrossed in the magic she produced with the touch of her fingers. Raynesford had once told him that their aunt, Lady Rosaline, had been quite adept at the keys of the pianoforte as well. That her music had been a link that somehow united the entire Shelton family.

Beethoven had always been a particular favorite of the lovely Miss Shelton’s to play. Noah missed those moments. He missed them, in particular, at this very moment with a young lady by his side who seemed disinclined to music at all. He had to wonder why she’d even come to the musicale if she couldn’t bother to enjoy herself. But then again, the music had nothing to do with his reason for attendance, either. He shouldn’t fault her for that.

He turned his thoughts back to the present and watched the performances. After the soprano, a string quartet performed a rousing piece by Mozart, which was followed by a brief intermission.

“Oh, I see my dearest friend over there,” Miss Leatham said after Noah had fetched her a glass of lemonade. “If you’ll please excuse me.”

“Of course.” He couldn’t be more thankful to be finished with her company. Besides, Miss Jennings had arrived not long before the musicale had begun. Perhaps he ought to try his hand with her. Surely she would be more engaging than Miss Leatham.

He situated himself amidst her group and gained his introduction. Then he did his best to make himself agreeable to both Miss Jennings and her mother. Miss Jennings’s conversation, while slightly more invigorating than that of Miss Leatham (since she managed to at least discuss the string quartet coherently), was still rather colorless.

She had a penchant for discussing the newest fashions of the day and whether a particular shade of ribbon ought to be worn with another particular shade of gown. She did at least have the decency of looking uncomfortable in discussing such things with a gentlemen. Noah wondered briefly why she would do so if it left her ill at ease. Perhaps her mother had told her that was what she was expected to discuss. Pity. She had an animation about her when she spoke with other young ladies that was intriguing, to say the least—similar to Lady Charlotte’s, but without the unfortunate consequences which might endanger those with whom she spoke.

Noah had a very difficult time imagining spending a lifetime with nothing more stimulating to discuss than when they might next expect rain or whether the violinist had properly tuned her instrument, and frankly, the thought of discussing ribbons and coiffures for the rest of eternity gave him the shakes. When the intermission came to a close, he escorted Miss Jennings and her mother back to their seats and took up his next to the debutante, though he did not envision the remainder of the musicale to be more sensational on the heiress-becoming-bride front than the first half had been.

In truth, his expectations came to fruition. Miss Jennings was not an altogether disagreeable chit, but she kept looking over to her mother for approval of her conversation and behavior.

Exploring his other options, apart from Lady Tabitha, was proving itself to be a rather unpleasant affair. But he could see no way around it. By all indications from last night, Lady Tabitha wanted nothing to do with him right now.

Noah said his farewells to Miss Jennings and her mother. Miss Jennings, at least, seemed agreeable to him paying her a call soon. They could walk through the park or go for a ride. There could be some possibility there. It might prove to be more than possibility, if he could convince her to discuss something more invigorating next time.

He would have to try.

“You’re half-cracked. Even Bethie would agree.” Jo grasped Tabitha’s arm forcefully and pulled her into one of the dimly lit alcoves along the foyer of the Theatre Royal. “Lady Marianne Pratt is an absolute twit if ever I’ve met one. Toby will murder you.”

Tabitha fought the urge to roll her eyes heavenward. “She’s perfect for him. Young. Pretty. What’s not to suit his fancy?”

“Perhaps the fact that her head holds more cobwebs than thoughts?”

“Which, I thought we agreed, ought to suit Toby flawlessly,” Tabitha replied. “He’s never been the brightest, if you haven’t noticed. Besides, he cares far more for how a lady will look draped over his arm than he does for how stimulating her conversation might be. I rather think he has other things in mind than discussing Plato’s dialogues when he’s with a lady.” Not that Tabitha would ever think to discuss such a thing with a gentleman, herself, but that was hardly the point.

Jo’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I never imagined I’d say this, but you are being too harsh on your brother, Tabby. It’s ugly on you.”

Tabitha blanched. Too harsh? Ugly? Was she truly so intent upon her own wishes that she was not looking after the best for her brother? Finding him a bride would do him good. It would. It was Toby and what was best for him that she was thinking of, and not her own interests. Wasn’t it? She sniffed. “I can’t help that he’s proven his nature time and again.”

“I thought this was all about encouraging him to change his nature. Don’t you want him to marry so that he’ll leave you alone? Why throw a nitwit in his path, one who will bore even him to tears?”

“Hmph.” Damn and blast, for once in her life, couldn’t Jo refrain from making sense. Tabitha crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. Perhaps it was more of a pout than a frown. She couldn’t be wholly certain without a glass to look into. “Well, do you have a better suggestion?”

Jo peeked out from the alcove and scanned the crush. Tonight would be a reprise performance of The School for Scandal. A frown settled on her face, but for several long moments that was her only reaction. “What about,” she murmured, “Miss Jennings? I’ll grant you she isn’t the most loquacious chit to make her debut in recent Seasons, but after a few years she could possibly be decent company for him. And, more importantly, for us.”

Tabitha raised a brow and couldn’t remove the droll tone from her voice, even though it made her sound more like Owen than herself. “For us? I thought we were supposed to be looking out for Toby.”

“We are. But if we find a solution that meets both his needs and ours...” The look in Jo’s eyes as she took hold of Tabitha’s arm and pulled her out into the foyer was more than simply dogged determination. It more nearly bordered on ferocity. “Miss Jennings does.”

Two options lay before Tabitha: one, she could dig in her feet and force Jo to drag her along, thereby giving herself a few moments to determine the cleverness of her cousin’s assertions—but also drawing the attention of half the ton; or two, she could walk along at Jo’s side in a manner befitting a lady of her station and ascertain the rest after the fact. A raised eyebrow from Lord Leith the moment the two ladies were out in the open made Tabitha’s mind up for her.

She walked.

Granted, she was still seething under the surface but no one need know that save Jo, and apparently Lord Leith, since the earl had witnessed what must have been a rather comical sight. He, at least, ought to have the decency never to mention what he’d seen. The same, perhaps, could not be said of Jo.

Tabitha ventured another brief glance in his direction as she and Jo made their way through the throng. Lord Leith had schooled his features into a vaguely polite smile; he nodded in her direction. Then the scamp had the nerve to wink.

She would definitely have to have a discussion with him about his level of familiarity. He was behaving as though he was one of her brothers—one of whom happened to be standing alongside him.

At least she wouldn’t have to go off searching for Toby.

There was little time to worry about either Lord Leith or her brother at the present, however. Every few steps, Tabitha and Jo were greeted by various and sundry members of society, and she was obliged to greet them and trade a few pleasantries. Finally, after working their way through countless acquaintances (including Lady Kibblewhite and Lady Plumridge—Tabitha quelled a series of convulsions at the feigned enthusiasm with which the two gossipmongers greeted her), they stood before Miss Jennings and her companions.

“Lady Tabitha! And Miss Faulkner. It is lovely to see you here this evening,” Miss Jennings said. She took each of their gloved hands into her own in turn as she spoke. “I’ve so been looking forward to tonight’s performance. Lady Scantlebury went on and on about it at her ball, you know.”

Tabitha took a moment to appraise the debutante up close. A bit on the frail side—not overly surprising, given the state of her contemporaries. Brown hair, big brown eyes, and a white silk gown in the most current fashion. She should suit, though a blonde would be better.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure it will be lovely,” Jo said and waved her hand through the air before taking the girl’s arm into her own. “But tell me, Miss Jennings, who is your seamstress? That gown is stunning, don’t you agree, Tabby?” She looked over long enough for Tabitha to give an agreeing nod. “Quite as enchanting as the one you wore a few evenings ago at the Scantlebury ball. I simply must discover all your secrets.”

Miss Jennings flushed prettily and launched herself into conversation, needing no more encouragement than Jo’s effusive flattery to loosen her tongue. Tabitha found it difficult to pay attention. Far more of her focus was devoted to watching Toby from across the foyer while devising a plan to bring him into their circle.

At the moment, he was surrounded by the usual suspects: Lord Leith; two of Jo’s brothers, Christopher and Graham; and two other gentlemen whom Tabitha could not quite make out due to the great distance and crush of bodies separating them. She supposed she could just walk over to them and step into their group. After all, the lion’s share of these men were family. It wouldn’t be quite as unseemly in this situation as it would if they were a group of gentlemen to whom she weren’t in some way related.

Before Tabitha could make up her mind one way or another, Miss Jennings’s voice pulled at her. “No, this is all still quite lavish and unfamiliar to me. In all honesty, it is on the whole rather uncomfortable. Father worked until his cousin passed away. He was an innkeeper, actually.”

“How intriguing,” Tabitha said, leaning in. Her attention had been fully captured. “Did you live in the inn as a child? I would have loved to grow up in an inn. All those people coming and going all the time.” The thought of sitting off in the corner of the main room and catching snippets of their conversations threatened to distract her from the task at hand.

“No we lived in a cottage nearby, though Mother and I were in and out often, helping in the kitchens and the like.”

Jo looked Miss Jennings over with fresh appreciation. “And you are unconcerned about how the ton will look upon you for coming from such humble beginnings? That is quite brave.”

The younger woman smiled. “I cannot change my past. Nor would I wish to do so. Why be ashamed of an honest life?”

“Why, indeed?” Tabitha murmured. Miss Jennings was far from the simpering young miss that Tabitha had initially assumed she must be. True, she was very young. But at least she might not capitulate her senses at the first instant Toby paid her any regard. Maybe Jo was onto something promising with the girl.

That was it. Her mind was made up. Tabitha would walk over to Toby, convince him to come and meet Miss Jennings, and then sooner rather than later, she would have another sister-in-law.

Tabitha was just beginning to excuse herself for a moment in order to do that when yet again, Lord Leith caught her eye. If she was not mistaken, the dratted earl had the audacity to wink at her for the second time that evening. Tabitha blinked to be sure she hadn’t imagined his uncouth display. When she looked again, he was smiling like the devil himself...and he was making his way toward her, with Toby at his side.

Well, perhaps he wasn’t altogether horrid if he was at least bringing her twin along. She’d thank him someday. Probably the same day she finally gave him a piece of her mind over his familiarity with both Jo and herself. Her brothers and cousins were having a decidedly ill-favored effect on him.

As the two gentlemen arrived at Tabitha’s side, she turned to her victim. “Miss Jennings, might I introduce a good family friend, the Earl of Leith and my brother, Mr. Tobias Shelton?”

Lord Leith dropped into a perfunctory bow. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

Toby took a bit longer about it, but finally did as he ought. “My apologies, Miss Jennings. I’m afraid I must already be dashing away,” he said almost as soon as he rose again to his full height. “I only stopped here to inform my sister and cousin that Lord Leith has offered to escort them home after the performance tonight. An urgent situation has arisen, which my business associate has only now informed me of.”

Urgent situation? Business associate? The only business Tabitha knew of that Toby could be involved with was placing bets in the books at White’s. Blast the oily weasel, he was going to ruin her plans! If she didn’t know better, she might think he was aware of her intentions for his downfall.

There was no time to confront him, however. Almost as soon as he arrived, Toby made his escape.

Jo smiled at Lord Leith. If she felt any of Tabitha’s misgivings about Toby’s behavior, she hid it well. “That is very kind of you, my lord.”

Kind, indeed. Tabitha half-suspected the earl of a hidden agenda.

Her half-suspicion turned into full suspicion a mere moment later, when Lord Leith smiled back at Jo, then turned to Tabitha and Miss Jennings. “I do apologize, ladies, but might I trouble you for a moment, Miss Faulkner? There is something I must discuss with you. It truly cannot wait.”

Jo didn’t hesitate even for a moment. “Of course,” she said with a brisk nod. She placed her hand on his arm and they were gone before Tabitha could decipher what had just happened.

She’d thought she was going to introduce Miss Jennings to her brother and have them pair off for the evening. She’d thought Jo would remain at her side and help her determine the best ways of going about it. But Toby had run off, and Lord Leith had absconded with Jo, and now Tabitha was all alone with the debutante.

“Your family is quite affable, Lady Tabitha,” Miss Jennings said moments later. “And rather large, it would seem. I believe I met your other brother and his wife last night. Lord and Lady Raynesford? Lord Devonport was kind enough to make our introductions at Lady Kirkaldy’s musicale.”

Tabitha flinched and tried to hide it. “Lord Devonport? I didn’t realize he would be there.” Not that it should matter. Lord Devonport’s social engagements ought to have no bearing on Tabitha’s demeanor, yet for some reason, she felt affronted that he’d not mentioned his plans.

It irked her to no end that the mere mention of his name coming from this young slip of a thing’s lips would rankle so. The idea that she had a reaction at all was even more of an effrontery than the reaction itself. Lord Devonport owed her no explanations. He owed her nothing at all.

Miss Jennings smiled wistfully. “Yes, he was there. In fact, he sat with my mother and me for about half of the performance. I do believe he might call upon me sometime soon.” She leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “I certainly hope I’m right about that. He’s quite handsome, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, of course,” Tabitha spluttered. Too handsome by half. Devilishly so. So handsome, it oughtn’t to be a surprise to her that he might pay court to a lovely young debutante such as the one standing before her. They would make a handsome couple—certainly more handsome than Lord Devonport would look alongside Tabitha. Not that he ever would be. She ought to be pleased for him. For them both.

But then why did she suddenly wish Miss Jennings’s perfect English-rose complexion would break out in a pox? She tried to force such thoughts from her mind. “I’m sure he’ll call on you tomorrow. The next day at the very latest.” He certainly wouldn’t be calling on Tabitha any time soon. Perhaps he’d pay a visit to Owen and Elaine, or visit with little Lily, or maybe even Toby. But not Tabitha.

“Do you really think so?” The younger girl fairly flushed at the prospect.

“Yes. Yes, I do. And you’ll have to tell me all about it afterwards.” Tabitha might have even managed saying such a thing without revealing herself for the liar she was. In the meanwhile, Tabitha would have to remind herself that she was an old maid. By choice. And glad of it.

Even if it hurt.

The clip-clopping hooves of the pair leading Noah’s barouche through Hyde Park fairly echoed from the silent lack of conversation. Twice he had already chastised himself for his surprise over Lady Cressica’s seeming inability to natter on about anything. After all, she had proven herself far from loquacious upon their first meeting at Lady Kirkaldy’s musicale. Their second meeting the following evening at Lord and Lady Rippington’s ball yet again displayed a distinct lack of garrulous behavior.

Why should she be any different when they were away from the prying eyes of anyone save her lady’s maid and his driver?

Still, as a gentleman, he ought to make more of an effort. Even if the last four attempts at a discussion had been initiated by him. “Have you been enjoying your first Season, Lady Cressica?”

“Yes, it has been lovely.”

Then silence.

Lovely is not a word he’d typically associate with London. Noisy. Crowded. Filthy. Smelly. But lovely? And still, she did not engage him further. Noah stifled a sigh. “I imagine things are very different here from your normal life. London is certainly a change of pace for me from life in Cumberland. Much more hustle and bustle. I find I rarely have a moment’s thought to myself.”

“Indeed,” she replied. She turned her listless stare and plastered smile to the Serpentine, carefully twining the fingers of her gloved hands and returning them to her lap.

Silence reigned again.

Noah caught the maid’s gaze and imploringly raised an eyebrow. She jerked her head toward Lady Cressica almost imperceptibly and lifted an eyebrow of her own.

How terribly helpful. If ever Noah married Lady Cressica (he cringed at the thought), he’d have to hire the girl a new maid—one who could provide as much assistance to him in terms of understanding his wife as she would provide to her primary charge. “And where does your family live the rest of the year? I don’t believe you’ve mentioned that.”

Lady Cressica didn’t even turn to face him. “Have I not?” she asked, though surely she knew she hadn’t. He could probably count all the words she’d uttered in his presence over three meetings on his fingers and toes. “Mother and I winter in Southampton.”

He should have called on Miss Jennings today. She, at least, could hold up her end of an exchange. But the thought of paying court to her did not create any sense of excitement within him. She was enjoyable enough to spend time with, certainly, and easy enough to look upon. Truly, she had no real faults.

Except, when he did spend time with her, inevitably, his thoughts drifted to someone else. Someone whose curves spoke to him at night, waking him from fitful dreams to lie awake for a fitful night. Someone with eyes of sparkling silver when she laughed, burning coal when she was in a temper, and cool grey clouds the rest of the time. Someone whom he had no business thinking of, when he ought to be entertaining his current companion, particularly since that precise someone had not exactly encouraged his attentions.

Better not to think about her at all. He was supposed to be trying to find someone else suitable to be his bride. Someone like Lady Cressica.

A curricle passed by them traveling the opposite direction, and its occupants called out a greeting. Noah smiled and waved, but Lady Cressica did not even make an effort at greeting them. Good gracious, could she not make herself presentable to anyone? Was it all too much of a bother? “Southampton? It must be lovely to live by the sea. I imagine it is similar to living in the Lake District, though much more vast. Tell me, have you ever gone for a swim in the ocean?”

Finally, she turned to him. Her eyes looked ready to pop free from their sockets, she held them so wide. “No,” she breathed. “Of course not.” Then her gaze regained its limp quality and she turned it aside from him, yet again fidgeting with her hands and repositioning them in precisely the same manner in her lap as they had been since she first climbed into his barouche.

Of course she would never swim in the sea. Lady Cressica Frost would never exclaim in delight over a puppy either, or string together more than six words in a row, or lose herself in awe over a display of fireworks.

A lifetime of marriage to this chit was something Noah could no longer convince himself to fathom. With every passing moment of her reticence, the likelihood of his being able to return the girl to her Curzon Street lodgings without first tossing himself headlong into the Serpentine to break the tedium of their jaunt grew bleaker.

He’d better head that direction now, before he did something drastic. Curzon Street, that was. Not the Serpentine. The water might prove too enticing. “Well,” he said. “Shall we return you to your mother’s care then?” Noah didn’t wait for her response. He caught his driver’s attention and signaled him to turn the conveyance around.

They had not traveled far in their return when he glimpsed the most welcome sight of the day. Walking arm-in-arm, Miss Faulkner was leading Lady Tabitha along the path directly toward them. Thank the good Lord. At least the two of them could provide him with a moment or two of conversation, something more than a monosyllabic response.

Noah raised a hand in greeting, and Miss Faulkner’s smile warmed him through as she returned his wave. Lady Tabitha neither waved nor smiled. He couldn’t decide if she seemed more panicked or agitated, from the flash of surprise that flickered through her eyes before just as briskly fading.

That would not be enough to deter him from calling out to them, however. Not today. Not after spending the better part of the last hour with the dour Lady Cressica.

“Lady Tabitha!” he called out as they drew nearer. Noah ignored the fact that the lady in question’s cousin seemed to be virtually pulling her along in order to be within reasonable range for conversation. “And Miss Faulkner. It is quite a fine day to be out for a stroll, is it not? I trust that you’ve both met Lady Cressica Frost.”

At the sound of her name, Lady Cressica condescended to turn her head momentarily in their direction. She gave a curt nod with a pained smile upon her face. “Good afternoon,” quietly slipped from her lips—such a minute sound, Noah wondered if the other ladies could have possibly heard her.

“Good afternoon to you both,” Miss Faulkner said. “Lady Tabitha and I thought to get some exercise before our evening activities. How delightful that we’ve run into you. Don’t you agree, Tabby?”

Despite her cousin’s urgings, Lady Tabitha did not warm. “Yes. Quite diverting,” she said after Miss Faulkner stomped rather noticeably upon her toes. He’d thought her expression cool, dispassionate even, before the event. Now it was categorically frosty.

Noah quashed a chuckle, but Lady Cressica did not hold back her gasp of astonishment at their behavior.

“We’ll be attending Lady Landale’s entertainment this evening,” Miss Faulkner continued. “Might we expect to see either of you there? I understand there will be cards and charades, and any number of other diversions.”

“I regret to say I’ve already accepted an invitation to the Harringdon’s soiree.” Noah did regret it. He had a sudden and compelling desire to attend the very event that Miss Faulkner described. He wished he had not agreed to attend the Harringdon’s gathering. He wished he had received an invitation from Lady Landale. More than anything, he wished Lady Tabitha would look at him the same way her cousin was at the moment.

But Lady Tabitha wouldn’t look at him at all.

“Mother and I are attending the Harringdon ball as well,” Lady Cressica said.

Having not taken his eyes from Lady Tabitha’s face, Noah caught a fleeting glint in her eyes. Very curious. She’d never behaved so peculiarly in his presence before. He wasn’t certain what to make of it.

“I’m sure you’ll both have a delightful evening,” Miss Faulkner said.

“Yes, I’m sure,” replied Lady Cressica. “I only hope at least a few gentlemen will ask me to dance. I’d hate to be stuck on the edge of the ballroom all evening.”

“I hardly think that should be a problem, Lady Cressica,” Lady Tabitha said with no small amount of derision in her tone. “Surely Lord Devonport has already placed his name on your dance card. I would imagine for at least two dances. Please excuse me.”

And without a backward glance, she spun on her heel and marched the opposite direction.

“I am so sorry,” Miss Faulkner said. “I haven’t the faintest idea what has come over her.” Her eyes pleaded with Noah, though she virtually ignored Lady Cressica in the exchange. She turned and followed her cousin, though her gait was more dignified by half.

Noah didn’t know what had come over Lady Tabitha either, though he had a sinking feeling that he was involved in some way. If he didn’t know better, he’d think her jealous of Lady Cressica. But that couldn’t be. Perhaps he truly had done something at the Scantlebury ball to offend her. He’d have to rectify it. Somehow.

In the meanwhile, though, he had Lady Cressica looking expectantly up at him. Noah closed his eyes briefly to steel himself. “Indeed, I would be honored if I could have a dance or two with you this evening,” he forced himself to say.

She smiled a true smile for the first time since he’d been in her company.

Once he worked out what he’d done to affront Lady Tabitha and made amends, she would have to make amends to him for forcing his hand with this insipid debutante.

One thing at a time, though.

“Slow down, Tabby,” Jo called out from behind Tabitha. “If you force me to run after you, I’ll make a scene.”

After nearly thirty years spent primarily in Jo’s company, Tabitha didn’t doubt her claim for even a moment. On the contrary, she knew her cousin capable of making a spectacular scene—one that the ton would talk about for weeks. Damn and blast, she wanted out of Lord Devonport’s company, and particularly out of Lady Cressica’s company, and she wanted it to happen immediately. She slowed to a more normal pace and waited for Jo’s longer legs to catch up with her.

“Care to explain any of that?” Jo drawled.

Tabitha frowned. “Not particularly.”

They walked in silence for a few blocks, each lost in her own thoughts. When they turned toward Cavendish Square, Jo broke the silence. “You’ve always been civil with Lord Devonport before. More than just civil, actually. I thought he was like family.”

“He is.” Tabitha didn’t trust herself to say more. The encounter had affected her in ways she didn’t understand herself, so how could she possibly enlighten Jo?

They walked another block without a word spoken between them. Tabitha intended to remain as tight-lipped as she could.

But when they turned up the lane to Shelton Hall, Jo reached out a hand and took Tabitha’s, gently pulling her to a stop. The footmen had already opened the doors leading in to the foyer and stood at attention waiting for the two to come inside.

Jo waited until Tabitha looked into her eyes. “You’re acting like a jealous dunderhead. Admit you have an affection for him. And don’t take it out on Lady Cressica.” Then she whirled about and proceeded inside, leaving Tabitha with her jaw hanging slack.

Noah needed a break. He couldn’t face another afternoon of paying court to banal young debutantes followed by another evening spent attempting to woo the very same ladies by dancing and flirting. It was enough to drive him to the brink of insanity.

Still, he ought to visit Miss Jennings, or perhaps Lady Cressica again (though he shuddered at the thought of such a call, particularly after being subjected to not one, but two dances with her the prior evening—including the supper dance). Instead, he found himself driving his curricle through the streets of Mayfair with no real destination in mind.

Before he discovered his own intentions, he was pulling to a stop in front of Shelton House on Cavendish Square, where another carriage waited with driver and horses ready to go. He sat perched atop the curricle while various and sundry ladies and gentlemen passed by, eyeing him.

Should he go inside and try again with Lady Tabitha? She had spurned his attentions up to this point. But he would never be able to repair whatever gaffe he had committed if he never tried. If he never corrected the problems between them, how would he ever know if she could, perhaps, be agreeable to his advances? But she might not be ready. She could send him away without a second glance.

She ought to do precisely that.

Even if she did, it wouldn’t relieve him of his gentlemanly duty to her. He needed to go and speak with her. He must at least make an honest attempt at setting things right.

It was the only way he could live with himself.

Finally making up his mind, Noah climbed down and started up the path. He didn’t make it far, though. After two full strides, the doors opened. Shelton and Raynesford spilled out first, followed soon behind by Claremont and Leith.

“Devonport,” called out Raynesford. “Calling on Tabitha finally? Good.”

Good? Noah doubted Raynesford would still feel the same way if fully informed. The Shelton brothers may seem nonchalant with regard to their sister, but when push came to shove, he had no doubt there would be plenty of pushing and shoving. It might even come to fisticuffs. Noah already considered himself lucky that neither had yet issued him a challenge.

If some sod had danced with one of Noah’s sisters and caused her to run from the ballroom floor in tears, he knew full well what he would have done. Add in the fact that the sister in question could not stand being in the so-called gentleman’s presence? No one would be able to stop him from seeking retribution.

Shelton reached Noah’s side first and clapped him on the back. “That can wait. We’re off to White’s. You should come with us. Call on Tabitha tomorrow.”

Tomorrow? A one-day reprieve. It was a sorely tempting offer. But while it might provide temporary relief, it would solve nothing. “No, I really ought to—”

“You really ought to come with us,” Raynesford cut in. “Toby’s right. You’ve been on the hunt so much the last few days, you need a break.”

“Perhaps,” Claremont said tentatively, passing a meaningful glance in Noah’s direction, “Devonport ought to be allowed to do what he set out to do. Particularly if Tabitha is expecting him.” Clearly her cousin had not forgotten what had happened at the ball. Nor, judging from the scowl marring his darkened features at present, had Leith. Noah had never known Leith to do anything untoward, but it seemed imprudent to test the man.

“Why on earth would Tabitha expect him?” Shelton scoffed. “No gentleman has called on her in recent memory. It’s been years since she had a beau, or even had flowers sent to her. Besides, she won’t suddenly be taking herself off the marriage mart if Devonport waits one more day to make his next move.”

“I think he’s waited rather long enough,” Leith said. The stillness of his voice belied a thinly veiled menace. Leith’s reaction was more along the lines of what Noah would expect from her brothers, should they learn how she’d left the ballroom in tears only a few nights before.

“No,” Raynesford said. “Toby’s right. Tabitha is in no hurry to reach the altar. She’s proven this time and again. Tomorrow is fine. Let’s go.”

Shelton put a hand on Noah’s shoulder and impelled him back down the walkway, leaving him with no option but to go along. “I’ll ride with Devonport,” he called out over his shoulder. “We’ll meet you there.”

The ride to White’s passed in meaningless conversation, which Noah found himself increasingly less capable of paying attention to. The reactions of Claremont and Leith had his mind turning in circles. Lady Tabitha did not only have a father and two brothers who might take exception if Noah had in some way hurt her, but she had countless cousins, a couple of uncles...and men like Leith who cared for her as much as the rest who had a true familial relationship with her.

He had to set things right, and sooner rather than later. There was no more time to delay. The Shelton clan was far too formidable an opponent when brought together for a common cause.

Once he pulled his curricle up at White’s, Noah had made up his mind. He would spend the afternoon with the Shelton men at White’s, he would spend a quiet dinner at Glastonbury’s with his mother, and then tomorrow he would begin the next phase of his life. The phase in which he would set right whatever injury he had committed against Lady Tabitha and begin an active pursuit of her.

By the time Noah and Shelton left the curricle with a groom and headed inside, the other gentlemen were already seated around a table near the back and laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Shelton asked. “It is bad form of you to leave Devonport and me out of your amusements.”

Noah took the open chair between Raynesford and Leith and half-heartedly accepted the drink Claremont passed his way. In the dim light of the backrooms at White’s, he couldn’t make out what the drink was, but a cursory sniff pointed him toward whiskey. He pretended to take a sip as Claremont turned his attention to Shelton.

“I don’t think you want us to answer that, actually,” Claremont said. “But...if you insist. We were just wondering aloud who would be the first to be snared by the parson’s mousetrap. Devonport is openly seeking it, Leith is not opposed to it, should the opportunity present itself, and you are actively avoiding it...but Leith informs us that you’re getting help in that area, whether looked for or not.”

Shelton spluttered and choked on his own whiskey. “Help? Who in bloody hell wants me married?”

Leith couldn’t contain his sly grin. “Your sister.”

Noah chuckled and tried to disguise it as choking on his whiskey at the look of abject horror on Shelton’s face. He should have known Lady Tabitha would try something after how she had reacted at the ball. Though how she’d discovered her brother’s plans, Noah had no idea.

“And your cousin,” Claremont added. “It seems Tabitha and Jo are trying to find you a bride. For all we know, Bethanne may be in on it too, though I don’t know how she could be contributing from Derbyshire.”

“Never underestimate those three together,” Raynesford said. “It could be the last thing you do.”

“Bethanne?” Noah asked. He’d never met her. Raynesford and Shelton had often spoken of this other cousin, another spinster who had taken over the care of their senile spinster aunt.

Come to think of it, there seemed to be a rash of spinsters within the greater family. That couldn’t bode well for his plans.

Raynesford nodded gravely. “Tabitha, Jo, and Bethanne were always inseparable, since they were very young. When they decided to do something together, you would be intelligent, indeed, to put money on it happening.”

“Whether it was something advisable for them to do or not,” Claremont added.

One corner of Leith’s mouth lifted. “Their schemes were notoriously rather insensible, if memory serves.” He seemed almost in awe of the three, like he held their cunning ways in high esteem.

Shelton pounded a fist on the table. “I don’t care how many of them are involved. How do you know this? I haven’t seen any signs—nothing to make me think Tabitha is up to something. She’s my blasted twin. I think I would know about it if she’s plotting my downfall. Before any of you lot, at the least.”

Raynesford let an inelegant snort slip. “I’d say you’ve been a bit too preoccupied with keeping Lady Backingham’s bed warm of late to notice anything about our sister.”

“At least she’s widowed.” Shelton implored his brother with his eyes. “I make it a point to avoid debutantes like the plague. Don’t want one of them to get the wrong impression. You know, like I’d be inclined to marry the chit or something.” Shelton shuddered.

“Heaven forbid,” muttered Claremont. Was that a hint of pity in Claremont’s tone?

“I’m the one who found out,” said Leith. “From Miss Faulkner. I noticed some odd behavior from the two of them at the theater a few evenings ago, so I pulled her aside and asked her about it.” Leith’s shifty gaze, avoiding Claremont, told Noah they’d discussed more than just whatever nefarious plans she and Lady Tabitha had up their sleeves.

“You’re not serious.” Shelton had the hangdog expression of a lost puppy. “Tabitha can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I daresay she’s quite serious, Shelton,” Noah said. Her prodding and prying during the brief time they had waltzed were more than enough to convince him. He had to admit, it was nice to see someone squirming other than himself. He’d done enough of that lately, with all the heiresses he’d been attempting to court of late.

“Too true,” Claremont said. “Tabitha’s perennially earnest, and I doubt anyone has ever met a lady with a more determined bent than Jo.” Leith chuckled at that statement, but kept his own counsel.

Raynesford leaned forward, situating his elbows on the table and resting his chin in his hands. “And they’re almost constantly together. With all that time together...what else could they be doing? Plotting. Scheming.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen either of them this avid about a project since they shoved Devonport’s sister into Raynesford’s path,” said Leith. He didn’t appear to even be trying to hide his glee. “And we can all see how that turned out.”

Shelton scowled. “Why are you so happy? If they trap me into marrying some poor debutante, you’ll be next.”

“Which brings us back to the initial conjecture—the one which brought us into this conversation in the beginning.” Claremont took a long drink from his glass. “I wager that Tabitha and Jo will succeed, and Toby will be the first at the altar. Sorry, Devonport. I know you need to marry promptly, but my cousin will beat you.”

Shelton scoffed, but neglected to refute the baron.

“I don’t deny that my sister and cousin can be quite influential in such matters,” Raynesford said, “but Toby can be equally as evasive. I say Devonport will be the first.”

Noah nodded to acknowledge his brother-in-law. “Thank you. I think.” He frowned for a moment.

“You’d better be first,” Shelton grumbled.

“Is that where your money is then?” asked Claremont. They all looked in Shelton’s direction to see his decisive nod.

“Well, it’s your money to lose,” Leith said. “I, for one, would never dream of wagering against Lady Tabitha and Miss Faulkner.”

“That’s two on Devonport, and two on Toby.” Claremont held up a couple of fingers on each hand. “It’s up to you to break the tie, Devonport.”

Noah smiled, though he did not make it a habit to place bets upon anything. “Well, I suppose I ought to deliver a divergent position. Since I’m actively seeking a bride, and Shelton is keen to avoid the same, I have to believe Leith will inadvertently stumble to the altar before either of us.”

“Excellent,” Claremont said. “How much shall we put at stake?”

“Let’s not forget the reason Devonport needs to marry,” Raynesford warned.

Shelton turned to face Noah head-on. “Surely a minor wager won’t break your coffers. Will it?”

“No, I can manage a modest gamble.” Noah hoped he could, at least. The details had still not been finalized for Mother and Glastonbury’s wedding and celebration. But he’d find a way to make it all work. Somehow. Yet he couldn’t seem to breathe until he heard the sum they felt fair. For once in his life, he wished he had been more of a gambling man. He might at least have an idea how much he was looking at, in that case.

“I think five pounds should be fair,” said Leith.

Thank goodness. Noah released a pent-up breath, hoping the others would agree. Five pounds wouldn’t put too much of a dent in things.

Raynesford virtually stared through him waiting for confirmation that he could handle such a sum before giving any reaction. Noah nodded his assent. “Excellent,” Raynesford said. He almost cracked a smile. “Who’ll go put it in the book? We’ll have to make it official.”

Noah stood. “I will.” He’d never actually seen the famed betting book before, and knowing himself as he did, he might never have another opportunity. Some things a man just had to do for himself at least once in his life.

“I’ll come with you.” Leith set his empty glass on the table and pushed his chair back. “Make sure you get it all down right.” He winked at the others.

When they arrived at the bay window, Noah drew the book across the table before him. He took a quill and dipped it in the ink pot, then settled it against the parchment to mark their wager down—and stopped short. The previous entry had caught his attention and stolen his ability to breathe.

Lord Oglethorpe and Lord Eggerley wager five hundred pounds. Each claims he will be the first to compromise Lady Tabitha Shelton, hereunto known as the Fat Cow with the Fat Dowry, thereby winning the Fat Cow’s hand in marriage and, by default, her Fat Dowry.

Nausea engulfed him and his forehead broke out in a sweat. He wanted to find Oglethorpe and Eggerley and pummel them both until they’d never look human again. He wanted to call them both out and slap a glove in each of their faces. He wanted to do whatever it took to protect Lady Tabitha. He wanted to marry her himself.

By Jove.

Leith cursed ferociously beside him and dragged a hand over his face. “Owen and Toby can’t know,” he said quietly. “Particularly Toby. He’d do something reckless and land himself in prison.”

“Agreed. But we can’t let them...we can’t...” Words were failing Noah. Words never failed him. He could always find a way to speak.

“We can’t let either of those bastards win,” Leith finished for him. “Which means you need to step up your efforts. And any time either Oglethorpe or Eggerley might be around, neither of us can let Lady Tabitha out of our sight.”

Noah was thinking more along the lines of not letting her out of his reach, but there was no need to let Leith in on that particular thought. “Of course.”

“It’s clear that Lady Tabitha and Miss Faulkner don’t intend to be separated much this Season, so we have that working for us. When you call upon Lady Tabitha, I can call on Miss Faulkner at the same time.”

“We’ll have to be sure she dances as many sets with us as possible at balls,” Noah mused aloud. “And always the supper dance.”

“Always.”

“Do you think you can convince Miss Faulkner to stay with Lady Tabitha even more than normal? Without raising her suspicions, that is.” If Miss Faulkner suspected something was amiss, she might go to either Raynesford or Shelton, or perhaps even to their father, Newcastle. If someone was going to avenge Lady Tabitha’s honor, Noah wanted it to be him. The men in her family might not allow him that privilege, if they discovered the situation.

“I’ll do what I can.” Leith glanced over his shoulder to where the other gentlemen of their party were still sitting. “Write the wager down. We need to get back before they start to wonder what is holding us up.”

Once more, Noah dipped the quill in ink. But he couldn’t write their wager on the same page as Oglethorpe and Eggerley’s vile bet. He couldn’t bear to look at it any longer. He turned to a new page, then found he could take a breath again. He marked down the details, closed the betting book, and shoved it with disgust across the table.

Lud, Father’s carriage felt overcrowded and stuffy. This presented Tabitha with a rare instance to wish she could breathe some London air.

She had known Owen and Elaine intended to accompany her to the ball that evening, so their presence had not come as a surprise. But for some reason, Toby had changed his mind at the last moment and decided to join them. Not long before that, Father had announced his intentions of enjoying a night spent in company instead of holed up in his study, as he had done so often since Mother passed. Tabitha was pleased about her father’s decision; she could have lived a perfectly content life without Toby’s change of heart.

The atmosphere in the carriage was not helped by the fact that Toby had been in one of his moods since the previous afternoon. One might think him a female experiencing her monthly courses with the way he behaved like a cat that had been tossed unceremoniously in the pond.

His conduct in relation to Tabitha, in particular, was rather galling.

Just that morning at breakfast, he had flopped down at the table and scowled in her direction when she greeted him with her usual “Good morning.”

“And why would anyone think it good?” he had grunted, glaring across the table at her as he chewed a mouthful of kippers. “It is morning, after all. Well before noon. One ought to have the common decency to respect that some of us would prefer not to be awoken by the sounds of chirping birds and the sight of a bright sun blinding us through the open windows at this ungodly hour of the day.”

His surliness chafed more than usual.

She had not been the one to insist his windows be opened, after all. That decision had been made by Lord Leith. The earl had called rather early in the day, it was true, but he had declared it urgent that he speak to Toby. Tabitha knew that rousing her twin in such a manner was the most effective way to ensure he would actually get out of bed—in fact, it was one of the few methods one could employ against Toby.

Lord Leith’s purpose for waking her brother at such an hour was none of her concern. But Toby’s behavior in the matter had only served to reinforce her resolve to see her brother married off as soon as was humanly possible. Particularly since he refused to tell her later in the day what had been so urgent.

So now, jammed into one corner of the carriage where she shared a bench with Owen and Elaine, she sat directly across from her twin and nemesis, who made it a point to stare at her. If anyone apart from Jo and Bethanne knew her well enough to recognize how quickly that would drive her to the brink of insanity, it was Toby. Damn him.

“Is there something I can help you with?” she asked him through gritted teeth.

Toby lifted an eyebrow. “From what I understand, you already are. Although I have no earthly idea how what you’re doing is meant in any way to be of assistance to me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Tabitha asked. When Toby merely scowled in response, she turned to Owen. “What does he mean?”

“I can only imagine he’s referring to the fact that you and Jo are attempting to find him a bride.”

“Are you really?” Elaine leaned across her husband to take Tabitha’s hand. Her blue eyes—Lord Devonport’s very same blue eyes, Tabitha realized with a start—lit up with excitement. “I want to help. Let me help. It will be such fun! I have a few young ladies in mind who would be absolutely perfect—”

“Perfect for an utter scoundrel?” Toby drawled. “The only lady who would be perfect for me would be the sort frequently found at Haymarket.”

Elaine blushed ferociously at his pronouncement. Toby had clearly meant to discomfit her with his bold pronouncement, and had succeeded.

“Watch your tongue,” Father piped in, entering the conversation for the first time. “There are ladies present.”

Toby turned to Elaine. “I apologize, my lady.” He intentionally avoided looking at Tabitha.

“You’re not going to help,” Owen said decisively to Elaine after a moment. “I’ll not have my brother avoiding me because he’s avoiding my wife and her schemes.”

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten it was because of the efforts of your sister and cousins that you and I were introduced.” Elaine’s counter-attack contained no small degree of heat. “Perhaps you think you’d be better off if you were still a bachelor like your brother.”

“Perhaps you’re overreacting,” Owen said. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Elaine punched Owen in the arm with her tiny fist before she crossed her arms over her chest and flopped back against the squabs with a huff. No one said a word for several moments.

Toby finally broke the silence as the carriage turned onto Hanover Square. “Well, this has been a cheery jaunt. I’m so glad we were all together for it.”

Father cleared his throat, catching Tabitha’s eye and holding it. “I wonder,” he said slowly, “if you’re not spending more efforts on finding brides for your brothers than you are on finding a suitable match for yourself.”

Not again. Good Lord, how many times in the last decade had she tried to make it clear to him that she had no intention of marrying? She tried to soften it, always. She tried to make him see that she would not marry a man who only wanted her because of the size of her dowry or the connection she would give to her father and brothers. But he never seemed to listen.

Was that why Father had decided to come tonight, instead of trusting Owen with the responsibility? To keep an eye on her and be sure she made an effort?

She took a breath and steeled herself. “Father, I—”

He stayed her with his hand. “I know all your excuses. There is no need for me or anyone present to hear them again.”

The carriage rolled to a stop. Tabitha had to bite the inside of her cheek in order to force back her tears. They refused to understand, to care how she felt. She wouldn’t give them—particularly Toby—the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

The driver started to open the door and set down the steps, but Father reached over to hold it closed. “I expect to see you making an effort tonight. You are not to be a wallflower, plastered to the walls of the ballroom. I’ll be watching.” He sighed and took one of her hands into his own, much larger hand. Funny how, as exceedingly sizeable as she was for a lady, her hands could look so tiny next to his. “I only want what’s best for you, Tabitha. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

She snapped her head up and met his gaze. “I fail to see how marriage to a man who loves money and position, but fails to love me, could be what is best for me.”

Before he could stop her, Tabitha climbed over the rest of the inhabitants of the carriage and shoved the door open, then leapt down without assistance. She landed awkwardly on her ankle and stumbled. The driver started to rush to her aid, but she stopped him with a frosty glare and righted herself on her own.

“Tabitha!” her father called out, still seated in the carriage.

She refused to look back. Tabitha strode up the path and climbed the stairs to Fewster Manor with as much dignity as she could muster.

Once inside, she made her way as swiftly as she could to the ladies’ retiring room, ignoring the calls from Owen and Elaine behind her. She shoved the door closed behind her and turned the key in the lock.

Only then did she succumb to tears.

“You said she’d be here tonight.” Noah pulled a hand through his already disheveled hair for what had to be the tenth time already, and he’d only been at the ball at Fewster Manor for twenty minutes. He’d count himself lucky indeed if he managed to return home that night with any hair left on his head. “Where is she?” The first set was set to begin, but despite his continual scanning of the crowd, Lady Tabitha was nowhere to be seen.

He had found Oglethorpe, though. It had taken a supreme effort (and a bit of Leith’s force holding him back) in order to refrain from turning the man’s face as black as his soul right there in the middle of the ballroom. But at least if Oglethorpe was there, he was not wherever Lady Tabitha was.

“She’s here,” Leith said. “I saw Toby and Lord Newcastle come in. Toby swore to me that they would all come together. It was murder getting him to agree to come, without giving him an explanation, I might add. He seems to think I’m merely trying to collect on our wager by helping Lady Tabitha and Miss Faulkner along.”

Leith’s tone was so placid. How could he possibly be relaxed? Noah removed his eyes from the crush to study the other man. Nothing in his posture would alert a soul that anything was amiss. One had to be close enough to see the slight jerking motion of a muscle in his jaw or to notice the hard glint in his glowering eyes in order to discover that anything might be disturbing the earl. For a fleeting moment, Noah was jealous of Leith’s ability to maintain his composure.

“We ought to devise a strategy,” Leith said. “For once we find her.”

Yes, a plan of attack would be a necessity. “You said the fourth set would be a waltz? And it is to be the supper dance as well?”

“Yes,” Leith said. “I’ll go and claim her for the first set. Or at least the first one once she’s come out from hiding. You find a way to distract Oglethorpe while I’m doing that. Once we’re dancing, perhaps you ought to find Miss Faulkner and talk with her. Maybe you should even dance with her. After our dance, I’ll bring Lady Tabitha to her cousin, and you can claim the supper dance.”

“And there is another waltz after supper?” Noah asked. No matter what, they couldn’t let Oglethorpe near her during a waltz.

“Yes. I suppose I should ask her for that one,” Leith said. “Unless you want tongues wagging about your impending marriage.” He pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side. “On second thought, maybe that’s exactly what you want.”

Noah wouldn’t be opposed—he definitely wanted to marry her—but he wasn’t so certain Lady Tabitha would agree to it. At least not yet. Hopefully soon. Still, he shook his head. “I think you ought to take that one. I’ll get her to dance a country dance with me for a second set. She might be more amenable to that idea.”

Leith snickered. “Touché.”

“But...”

There was no need for Leith to ask ‘But what?’ His eyes asked the question for him.

“What will we do about the rest of the sets? Aren’t there supposed to be eight of them tonight?” There was simply no way the two of them could dance with her more than twice each. Lady Tabitha wouldn’t hear of it. For that matter, Miss Faulkner would probably cause a scene. Even Elaine might join them. The ladies would never allow such a thing.

“I don’t think the remaining sets will be a problem,” Leith said. “Lady Tabitha has never been one to dance any more than absolutely necessary. She rarely dances at all, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Noah nodded. That was true. She seemed to prefer life on the periphery of the ballroom floor by far in comparison to life in the midst of it. She’d been that way for as long as he’d known her. Indeed, seeing her dance with any gentleman was an occasion to be remembered, she did it so rarely. “We still ought to stay close, though.”

“I doubt either of us would stray far at this juncture.” Leith’s lips thinned with resolve. He pointed inconspicuously across the congested room, so that only Noah could see his actions. “There she is. I’m going over.”

Noah’s gaze followed the direction of Leith’s path. There, a vision in a demure chestnut silk gown that pulled across her gloriously full breasts and tugged against her curvaceous hips in all the right ways, stood Lady Tabitha with Miss Faulkner and Elaine. They flanked her, one standing sentinel to her right, the other to her left, as though they were guarding her from some unseen threat.

Little did they know, there truly was a threat present tonight.

Oglethorpe. Drat, he’d almost forgotten he was supposed to waylay the blackguard while Leith put their plan in motion. He’d focused too long on Lady Tabitha’s altogether-too-shapely figure, and all other thought had fled his brain like cockroaches fleeing from torchlight. Noah forced his eyes to leave the bodice of her gown (which left just a bit too much to his imagination) in order to comb the ballroom for the villain.

By Jove, he’d nearly waited too long. Oglethorpe had apparently spotted Lady Tabitha, too, and was picking his way through the mob of dancers making their way to the ballroom floor. One thing on Noah’s side—Leith looked to have a decent head start.

Still, there was no time to waste. He started across the middle of the floor, on a path to intercept the rogue before he could reach Lady Tabitha. Oglethorpe was focused solely on his target; he didn’t even see Noah coming in the last moment before they collided. Noah picked up speed just before impact, hoping to knock the cur on his backside.

He almost succeeded.

“Watch out, man!” Oglethorpe said as he tried to right himself, pulling on the lapels of his coat and disentangling himself from the legs of the table he’d fallen into. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Terribly sorry. I must not have been looking where I was going.”

Oglethorpe straightened and shot a heated glare at Noah. “I’d recommend, my lord, that you stop being a bloody blundering fool. It would not do for you to careen into a lady as you’ve just done into me.” The man’s voice held an understated threat.

“And I’d recommend you remember you’re in the company of ladies and ought to watch your choice of language,” Noah returned.

“Care to help me remember outside?” The rascal practically cracked his knuckles with glee over the prospect.

While he was not as big as some men of the ton, Noah still stood a few inches over Oglethorpe. Size-wise, he was on the better end of things, for certain. He could probably come out of the bargain no worse for wear.

By Jove, was he seriously considering this? He’d never been a fighting man—one might consider him a bit of a pacifist. He hardly ever cursed, even. But yes, he was thinking about taking Oglethorpe outside and teaching him a thing or two about how to treat a lady.

Like a wholly besotted fool.

Noah didn’t just want to defend Lady Tabitha’s honor because she was the sister of his brother-in-law and it was the right thing to do. No, there was something deeper than that. He’d just been too caught up in his own problems to recognize it for what it was.

He was smitten.

But he had to deal with a libertine ready to take him outside and land blows before he could see to convincing Lady Tabitha to fall head over ears in love with him.

“I hardly think that’s necessary, Oglethorpe,” Noah said as serenely as he could manage. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Leith had collected Lady Tabitha and moved her to the dance floor. Good. “I might be forced to bloody your shirt, and the ladies would be scandalized.”

“Watch yourself, Devonport,” Oglethorpe said. “The next time we collide, I doubt I shall be so forgiving.”

“Noted,” Noah said. “You might register the same. Good evening to you.” Without further delay, he separated himself from the loathsome man and made his way across to his sister and Miss Faulkner.

He had other matters to attend to tonight.

Tabitha couldn’t remember the last time Lord Leith had asked her to dance. He asked Jo all the time. That would be nothing out of the ordinary. But whether it was due to him recognizing her reticence or simply because he never thought of it, they had not danced in a good many years, despite being at the same balls most nights of almost every Season. It had never bothered Tabitha any, either. Lord Leith was quite handsome and would be quite a catch for some pretty young debutante. But he would never look twice at a dowdy spinster like Tabitha.

Yet somehow she was dancing with him tonight, despite the tenderness still plaguing her ankle. Gracious, why had she leapt from the carriage? That had certainly not been her most brilliant moment in life. A point which Jo had been only too happy to make once Tabitha had finally allowed her entrance to the retiring room.

She turned one of the figures of the dance and her ankle slipped beneath her. She didn’t fall, but could not stop a grimace from making an appearance on her features, even if only for a brief moment.

Lord Leith’s eyes narrowed with concern. “You’re in pain.” A statement, not a question. Nothing slipped past the earl. Blast, why did he have to know her so well? “Should we go out to the garden? Earlier I spied a bench out there. We could sit and talk.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You’re fibbing.”

“Fine. I’m not fine, but I don’t need to sit.” In truth, she saw more potential harm than good in making an escape to the garden. Father would be furious, as he’d already made it clear that he would be watching her every move. And now that she’d been out in the open, dancing with Lord Leith, Tabitha had no doubt that Lord Oglethorpe, the slimy lout, had noticed her. She fully expected he would follow them and try to get her alone. That was the last thing she wanted to happen.

The dance set them apart from each other for several bars, but Lord Leith continued to watch her with an expression of unease.

Tabitha wanted to scream. It seemed she couldn’t even breathe without one of the men in her life thinking something was wrong, or that they needed to assist her in some way. She was sick to death of their interfering, overbearing ways.

She looked over to Jo. What a queer sensation, for Tabitha to be on the dance floor and Jo to be on the sidelines. Such a rarity. Jo wasn’t alone, though. Lord Devonport stood beside her, and it looked like they were deep in conversation.

But Lord Devonport wasn’t the only one with Jo. Lady Cressica Frost sidled up alongside them and worked herself into their tête-à-tête. After a moment or two, she smiled—an aloof smile, one without any sense of herself within it. Lord Devonport said something more and elicited a tittering, ersatz laugh from the debutante. Then he smiled, and his eyes were full of warmth and earnestness, and all the things that made him...well, him.

They were a mismatch if ever she’d seen one.

With a twirl and a shuffle, Tabitha and Lord Leith were side-by-side again.

“I notice you’re watching Lord Devonport.”

The heat of a blush crept up the back of Tabitha’s neck. How could he possibly notice everything she did? It was as though he was living inside her mind. Terribly frustrating, particularly since he wasn’t actually a relation. “No, I—”

Lord Leith laughed, rich and full. “Don’t tell another bouncer. Not in such a brief span of time.”

She didn’t like to sulk. It seemed such an act of puerility. But in her present state of vexation, she couldn’t stop a mammoth pout from taking over her features. “I despise that you know me so well. And I’ll have you know, I was only looking to see what Jo was up to.”

“Which took you all of three seconds or so,” Lord Leith chided. “And ever since that point, you’ve been watching Devonport and the debutante beside him. But I’ll take pity on you and leave it at that.” His black eyes continued to laugh down at her, even if he did not give voice to his mirth.

He had to leave it be at least for a bit, because the figures of the quadrille had separated them again. As much as she didn’t want to (because Lord Leith was undoubtedly watching her), Tabitha turned her gaze yet again to where Jo, Lord Devonport, and Lady Cressica had been talking. The debutante had left, but so had Lord Devonport.

She tried to focus on the dance and Lord Leith, but her mind refused to cooperate. It continued to wander to Lord Devonport and Lady Cressica. Miss Jennings, at least, was a young lady Tabitha could understand a gentleman being interested in. She could carry on a conversation and seemed genuinely interested in the people around her.

But Lady Cressica? If she was the type of lady who would interest Lord Devonport, then Tabitha ought to altogether thrust any wild fantasies she might have of his flirting with her aside. He had moved on to someone younger, someone more prosaic, someone rather more suitable for a gentleman of his stature in every way imaginable.

She hoped he would be happy with his choice.

As the orchestra signaled the impending end of the set, Tabitha and Lord Leith once again drew together. He winked at her, but she didn’t have enough vigor left to reprimand him for his over-familiarity. That could wait for another day.

“Shall I return you to Miss Faulkner?” he asked, placing her hand in the crook of his arm and guiding her to the side of the room. He was moving in that direction no matter her wishes on the matter. How presumptive of him.

It was a good thing for him that was precisely where she wanted to be. “Yes, thank you. And thank you for the dance, my lord.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” he replied.

Before they reached Jo, however, Lord Oglethorpe had come upon them. “Lady Tabitha,” he rushed out, “I had hoped I could request your hand for the next set.” Lord Leith’s arm tensed beneath her hand. “If, of course, you have not already promised it to another.”

Damn and blast. She didn’t want to dance with Oglethorpe. She didn’t particularly care to dance again at all, and she wanted nothing to do anything with Oglethorpe or any of his breed. She wanted, more than anything else at the moment, to sit down and rest her ankle. “I—”

“Lady Tabitha has already promised the next set to me,” Lord Devonport interrupted from behind her and off to the opposite side of Lord Leith. Goodness, where had he come from? And why would he tell such an untruth about the next set?

“I’ve done no such thing.” She was unable to stop herself from knitting her brow and frowning as he drew himself up beside her.

Lord Devonport turned to her with an almost haughty expression, one that seemed to command her not to disagree. “But you would have if Lord Leith hadn’t rushed you off to begin your set. You just didn’t have time to grant your consent.”

Unbelievable. “My lord, I am afraid you are mistaken. Perhaps you’ve confused me with Lady Cressica, though I’m uncertain how such a misperception could occur.”

“Then the next set is open?” Lord Oglethorpe pressed on. “Might I have the honor of your hand?”

“You may not,” Lord Devonport said.

“He may,” Tabitha shot back. Then she turned to Lord Oglethorpe with a firm nod. “You may.” Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. What had she done?

Oglethorpe smiled back at her. Or was it a leer?

Upon further inspection, it was most decidedly a leer. A lecherous, exultant, possessive leer.

Jo came up beside Lord Leith and looked on inquisitively but didn’t interrupt.

Lord Leith’s hand appeared at Tabitha’s back, though she was unaware how her hand had left his arm. He seemed almost to draw her closer to him, albeit in a very protective manner. Not anything untoward. But still, it was inappropriate. He oughtn’t to behave in such a manner.

“Lady Tabitha,” Lord Devonport said brusquely, “I beg you to reconsider.” He, too, took a step closer to her, until he and Lord Leith had her virtually blocked between them.

This was swiftly becoming farcical, all of it: from Lord Leith dancing with her, to Lord Oglethorpe asking her to dance, to Lord Devonport practically insisting she dance with him instead. She didn’t particularly care to dance with anyone. But hopefully it would be enough to get Father to leave her alone for a bit.

She’d had all she wanted of their blustering and displays of virility.

Tabitha separated herself from the gentlemen on either side and placed her hand on Oglethorpe’s proffered arm. As he led her to the dance floor, she said a silent prayer that it would all end soon.

“What just happened?” Miss Faulkner asked, casting an accusing look back and forth between Noah and Leith. Her hands were planted on her hips, and her deep blue eyes flashed with shrouded fury. “Why in God’s name is she dancing with Oglethorpe? Uncle Drake ordered her to dance, but he certainly did not order her to dance with that opportunist.”

“I wish I knew,” Noah murmured. By gad, he’d handled that badly.

“Well?” Miss Faulkner demanded. “What are you going to do about it?”

At least her rage was not directed solely in his direction but was shared in equal measure with Leith.

“Come,” Leith said, holding his hand out to Miss Faulkner. “Dance with me. We’ll position ourselves on either side of them. That should give her some defense.”

She narrowed her eyes in Noah’s direction. “Who will you dance with?”

He didn’t want to dance with anyone but Lady Tabitha. Dancing with another lady—any other lady—directly next to her, would be pure agony.

Since the dance would already be torturous, he might as well punish himself fully. “Lady Cressica,” he said. He hoped he would not live to regret it.

Tabitha wanted never to get out of bed again.

After all the dancing of last night, her ankle had been left throbbing and swollen like it hadn’t since she was ten years old and fell down a ravine (a feat which, mercifully, she had never repeated—why had she thought Jo’s idea so brilliant again?). And after the spat she’d had with her father, followed by the ridiculous debate with Lord Devonport over whether she had or had not agreed to grant him a dance, her head had been throbbing and swollen to match. Her temples had pounded at the very least.

The concentration of the throbs had only been intensified when both Lords Leith and Devonport had brought their partners to dance on either side of Tabitha and Lord Oglethorpe. This final act had also drawn out Tabitha’s ire at their interference.

When the set had ended, Tabitha headed straight for her father and begged to have the carriage called so she could go home. Her ankle could simply not handle another moment of dancing, or she would have to beg for amputation.

Sleep had provided no balm for either ailment. The incessant knocking at her door was having a decidedly provoking effect upon those same afflictions. “What in God’s name do you want at this hour?” she groused.

Tabitha’s lady’s maid, Hester, stepped inside. “You’ve received a bouquet of flowers, my lady. What would you have me do with them?” She came over to Tabitha’s four-poster bed and pulled back the curtain. Her face was alight with pure joy. “They’re really quite lovely.”

In her state of joint pain and half-sleep, Tabitha was certain she’d misheard the girl. She placed a hand over her eyes, blocking the sun from blinding her. “Flowers? Surely not.”

No one had sent her flowers since Lord Pargeter had finally given up his pursuit. She’d been one-and-twenty at the time. Tabitha had assumed other gentlemen who might have had an interest in her had taken notice of the manner in which Lord Pargeter had sought solace in the arms of an impoverished viscount’s daughter. He then proceeded to marry the girl—thereby proving himself not to be the fortune hunter she’d accused him of being as she chased him out of the house, throwing his bouquet of roses at his retreating backside. Or perhaps they had simply deemed her a shrew.

Either way, no one had sent her flowers in nearly eight years. Not even James Marshall.  Her ears must have deceived her.

“Yes, my lady,” the girl said with no small amount of delight in her voice. “A lovely bouquet of daisies. Yellow and white. Would you like to come down to the drawing room to see them?”

Tabitha had no intention of moving. “No. Leave them there.”

“Yes, ma’am. Shall I have them put in a vase?”

Waving the hand that had been covering her eyes dismissively, Tabitha said, “Do whatever you’d like with them, Hester. You could take them to your quarters, if you wish.”

“Oh, no, ma’am. I’ll just have them put in a vase and then set them in the drawing room,” the maid said, bobbing a curtsey. She started to back out of the room, but kept talking, almost as though to herself. “Though it is such a monumental bouquet, we might need to split the flowers into two or three vases.”

“Yes,” Tabitha said. “Fine.”

Hester stopped just before going through the door. “Oh, Lady Tabitha? I placed the card that came with them on your escritoire.”

But Tabitha placed her hand over her eyes once more, and merely managed a grunt in response. She lay there for quite some time, attempting to sleep without success, until the next knock sounded at her chamber door.

When she failed to respond, the door opened anyway and Hester stepped jauntily inside, grinning from ear to ear. “You’ve received more flowers, my lady. Daffodils! You simply must come and see them. They’re lovely.”

“Perhaps later.” Tabitha, however, had no intention of following through with that comment. “Please have a tray sent up for my breakfast. I do not wish to go down just yet.” For that matter, she didn’t particularly wish to go down ever. That might be difficult to manage, though.

Hester hurried over to Tabitha’s escritoire again to leave the card from the daffodils, then ducked out of the room.

When the next knock sounded, Tabitha had roused herself enough to put on her wrapper and was perched by the window. She expected it to be a maid with her tray. It was. But Hester had returned yet again.

“No more flowers,” Tabitha grumbled.

Hester clucked her tongue. “I’ve never known a lady who would not be delighted to receive flowers. Indeed, if you were to see them, I doubt you could be in such an unfriendly mood. Perhaps I ought to have them brought up to you. They might just break through your fit of the blue devils.” The maid crossed her arms over her chest, doing her best imitation of Tabitha’s mother.

Tabitha shook her head, laughing. “Please don’t. I promise I shall endeavor to behave myself the rest of the day.”

A curt nod was her response. “Now, break your fast and be sprightly about it. We have to get you dressed. You have a gentleman caller.”

Tabitha’s head jerked up and she bumped her hand into the cup of chocolate she’d been reaching for, knocking it over. Hester righted the cup and sopped up the mess with a rag she had pulled from thin air before Tabitha could even cry out in shock.

“A gentleman caller?” Tabitha repeated. Impossible. That was another thing that hadn’t happened since the days of Lord Pargeter’s pursuit. Indeed, he’d been her only gentleman caller ever in her entire life.

One half of Hester’s thin-set mouth turned down in a frown. “Yes. Livingston’s shown him into the drawing room, so I suppose you can see your flowers when you go down to meet him.”

Surely the butler wouldn’t have breached protocol in such a way. “But why has Livingston already shown him in? What if I don’t want to see him? I’ll have Father reprimand him for that. He knows better.”

Hester nudged the plate of sausages and eggs closer to Tabitha on the tray. “Eat. And I sincerely doubt your father will reprimand Livingston for doing precisely what he ordered the man to do.” The maid slipped from the chamber into Tabitha’s dressing room, humming to herself as she went.

Oh, lud. This was maddening. Tabitha forced herself to chew and swallow. She couldn’t very well face this day without something in her stomach. Not with the way it was shaping up.

When she finished with her meal, Hester came back in. “Will it be the rose or the jonquil?” she asked, holding aloft two afternoon dresses. She shook the jonquil dress a bit. “I think the jonquil. It will look lovely with your daisies and daffodils.”

Tabitha didn’t care at all which dress to wear. “Fine. And who is the caller?”

“No idea,” Hester said. She untied Tabitha’s wrapper and pulled it off her shoulders. “Livingston ushered him in and requested that I to get you ready.”

And another knock sounded at the door. “What now?” Tabitha asked in dismay.

“Good morning to you, too,” Jo said as she let herself inside. She squinted at the sun through the window. “Or afternoon, whichever the case may be. Livingston sent me to hurry you along. You now have two gentlemen callers waiting.”

Good God. Had they reached the end days and no one saw fit to inform her?

“Well,” Jo said with a wave toward Hester, “keep going. We cannot keep the gentlemen waiting all day.” She sat down before the tray that Tabitha had abandoned and helped herself to a sausage. “Not the pink,” she said to Hester with a wrinkle of her nose.

Tabitha sighed as her maid lifted the nightrail over her head and set to work dressing her for the day. “Did Livingston happen to tell you who the gentlemen were?”

“No. But I imagine they would be the same gentlemen who sent you flowers. He mentioned that you’d received two bouquets.”

“The cards are on the escritoire,” Hester called out from beneath a heap of fabric.

Jo reached across and snatched them up. “Excellent. This first one, the one on bottom, came from Lord Oglethorpe.” She pinched her lips together into a frown.

“That would be the daisies, my lady.”

Blast. She hadn’t wanted to encourage him. Not at all. But the thought of allowing Lord Devonport to dictate her dance partners had seemed far more brackish at the time. Why had she been so impetuous? Now it was all coming back to haunt her in more ways than she’d ever imagined. “And the other?”

Jo looked up at her with a crafty smile. “Lord Devonport.” She seemed to linger over his name, drawing it out so that it would hang in the air between them.

“The daffodils.” Hester had moved on from dressing Tabitha and was now tackling her hair, trying to sort it into some sense of order. “Which, by the way, are simply magnificent.”

“And copious,” Jo cut in. “I passed no fewer than six footmen carrying arrangements of them into the drawing room.”

Lovely. Based on the interaction between the two gentlemen the previous evening, Tabitha expected the atmosphere downstairs to be as relaxed as a pent-up feral cat. Precisely how she wanted to spend her day.

Another knock. “Come,” Jo called out.

A maid stepped in and curtsied. “Miss Faulkner, Livingston asked me to inform you that Lord Leith is also in the drawing room, hoping to call upon you. He went to your father’s home first, but was informed that you would be here, ma’am.”

“Thank you. Lady Tabitha and I shall be down momentarily.”

Hester finished tugging at Tabitha’s hair and stood back to get a good look. “I think that will do. Do you agree, Miss Faulkner?”

At Jo’s nod, Hester excused herself and went back into Tabitha’s dressing room.

“Come along,” Jo said, linking her arm through Tabitha’s. “We shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer.”

Tabitha narrowed her eyes at her cousin. “Wait just a moment. Why is Lord Leith calling on you? You’ve been cordial with him forever, but he hasn’t entertained the notion of courting you in a very long time. What is going on there?”

“I haven’t the faintest. But he knows nothing can ever come of it.”

“I never thought you’d be one to lead any man on a merry chase,” Tabitha said. “It is not your normal style.”

Jo looked out the window wistfully. “Lord Leith is a grown man, Tabby. If he is determined to end up with a broken heart again, I can’t stop him. Come on. Let’s get this over with. I don’t fancy wounding a gentleman’s tender sensibilities any more than you do.”

“Is Lady Tabitha still feeling unwell?” Oglethorpe asked Raynesford. “I’d hoped she would be better today, after a night’s sleep.” The Lothario sat there and seemed almost to preen himself, checking to be sure his dandified attire was flawless at every moment.

Noah was certain she’d feel better if she didn’t have to face Oglethorpe. Perhaps he only hoped that to be the case. He knew he would feel better if Oglethorpe, the dratted interloper, would leave.

Raynesford merely grunted, but Elaine smiled. “I’m sure she is feeling quite the thing, my lord. She will be down in no time.” She looked across the sea of daffodils and caught Noah’s eye. “As a matter of fact, I could go up and see what’s keeping her.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Leith said from behind a grin. “Miss Faulkner will hurry her cousin along.”

The doors opened and Noah rose, but it was only a maid with the tea service Elaine had ordered. He sank back down to the loveseat where he’d been stationed since the butler ushered him into the Shelton Hall drawing room. Discovering Oglethorpe already there had riled his temper, but he tamped it down. It would not do to have a fit of pique before the lady he was trying to court.

He had forced his anger back further when Elaine and Raynesford entered, followed soon behind by Leith. They would all be on Noah’s side, even if they weren’t all aware of Oglethorpe’s base perfidy.

“Tea, Lord Oglethorpe?” Elaine asked sweetly. The cur accepted a cup and took a sip.

Several more minutes passed with no sign of Lady Tabitha or her cousin. Elaine played the part of the perfect hostess: directing the four gentlemen present in polite conversation and being certain no one was left out, refilling cups of tea, and offering scones and sandwiches. She ignored the fact that Noah and Leith were glaring in Oglethorpe’s direction at every given opportunity, and that he seemed almost to gloat in return. On top of it all, Raynesford seemed oblivious to the fact that there was any friction in the room, or even that there were other people in the room aside from himself and Elaine.

In fact, more than a few times, Noah caught a glimpse of Raynesford watching his wife with a combination of awe and desire. It struck Noah like a dagger through the heart. He wanted that. Not with his sister, of course. But he wanted a wife he could banter with, one who would be by his side as they entertained. One who would still amaze him after years of marriage. One he could still feel hunger for after quite some time had passed.

After another few minutes, Oglethorpe rose. “I’m afraid I have a pressing engagement, and must go.” Thank the Lord. It was about time. Oglethorpe faced Elaine and Raynesford. “Will you please offer Lady Tabitha my apologies, and beg that she allow me to call upon her another day?”

“Of course,” Elaine said. “I’m sure she’ll be devastated that she missed you, my lord.”

Not if Noah had anything to say about it.

Oglethorpe bowed to the room and took his leave. Good riddance. Leith caught Noah’s eye, and there could be no doubt he felt exactly the same as Noah.

“Well,” Elaine said cheerfully, “that was rather uncomfortable. Anyone care to fill me in on why you all treated Lord Oglethorpe like a rotten turnip?”

Noah kept his silence and Leith likewise seemed disinclined to speak. They couldn’t risk saying too much in front of Raynesford, so their words had to be chosen with great care.

“No one?” Elaine prodded.

“Tabitha ought to marry,” Raynesford finally said, “and soon. There is no doubt about that. But if she so much as entertains the notion of marrying that piece of filth, I’ll have to knock some sense into her.”

Noah had to wonder what would cause such a reaction in Raynesford, but didn’t have a chance to ask. The double doors to the drawing room opened, allowing Lady Tabitha and Miss Faulkner to enter. Lady Tabitha was a vision, with her yellow dress almost precisely matching the shade of the daffodils that filled the room.

He rose to his feet too abruptly, knocking his knees against the low table before him. Leith and Raynesford stood like men who had not been startled out of their wits. Elaine winked at Noah.

“I thought Lord Oglethorpe was here as well,” Lady Tabitha said.

Noah’s heart, which had been pounding out a swift rhythm somewhere in the vicinity of his Adam’s apple, nearly stopped entirely as it plummeted to lodge itself between his toes.

“He was,” Elaine said. “But he had a necessary appointment and could not stay. He would like to call on you again another day.”

Lady Tabitha nodded. Noah tried to determine how she felt about this turn of events, but she didn’t give him enough reaction to gauge.

She turned to him, then. “Thank you for the daisies, Lord Devonport.”

Miss Faulkner leaned in and whispered loudly in her ear. “Daffodils.”

“The daffodils,” Lady Tabitha said more forcefully. “Thank you. They’re lovely.” Her words came out clipped.

Only half as lovely as she. “You’re quite welcome. I see they match your gown. I can only wish I had planned it that way.”

Leith brought forward a small bouquet of red poppies and presented them to Miss Faulkner, whose smile could have lit an entire ballroom, yet was seductive and sly at the same time. “You haven’t brought me flowers in a long time, Lord Leith. Thank you.”

“I had hoped you would join me this afternoon for an ice at Gunter’s,” Leith said. “Perhaps Devonport and Lady Tabitha would agree to accompany us?” Brilliant. Noah would have to thank Leith later for his brisk thinking.

Lady Tabitha started to shake her head in denial, but Miss Faulkner quelled her with a look. “We’d love that,” she said. “Wouldn’t we, Tabby?”

“Of course.” She looked like she’d enjoy nothing less.

“Shall we go then?” Leith held out his arm for Miss Faulkner to take. “I brought my barouche for just such an occasion.”

Lady Tabitha’s eyes widened. “Right away?”

“Why wait?” her cousin asked. “We’re all ready, are we not?”

Elaine leapt to her feet and took the poppies. “I’ll just have these put in water for you, then. I’d hate to see them wilt before you return.”

Before Lady Tabitha could change her mind, Leith led Miss Faulkner from the room toward the front door. Noah held out his arm and waited for Lady Tabitha to take it. She looked to her brother, and then to Elaine when Raynesford did nothing. Elaine smiled and took the poppies from the room.

Noah could have kissed his sister for not helping Lady Tabitha find an excuse not to go. Another thing he would save for a later moment.

Finally, with no one left to appeal to, Lady Tabitha put her hand on his arm. The butler stood by the door, holding out her pelisse and parasol in one hand, and Noah’s greatcoat and hat in the other. She took her articles and scurried outside, donning her pelisse as she went. “Thank you, Livingston,” she called out over her shoulder, only to draw up short when she came upon the barouche.

Leith and Miss Faulkner had already taken up their seat—their one seat—leaving the other for Noah and Lady Tabitha to share. Perhaps that was the cause of her apprehension.

He had no such qualms.

Noah came up behind her. “Ready?” he asked, holding out a hand to assist her up. She didn’t respond other than to nod, but accepted his aid. Once she was settled, he joined her. Leith signaled the driver that they were all set to go.

The seats of Leith’s barouche were narrower than Noah’s. His body touched alongside Lady Tabitha in various places...thigh against thigh, arm against arm, hip against hip. Her heat was heady, even through the fabrics of their attire. The contact sent jolts of desire straight through his body.

She squirmed against him until he felt less pressure against his body. He looked over, and she was holding herself as firmly as possible against the side of the barouche. Was he that repulsive to her? Thankfully the journey to Gunter’s would be brief.

Noah needed to get her alone somehow. He needed to discover what he’d done to offend her, so he could set it right. They would never be able to move forward with their relationship otherwise, let alone return it to where it once was.

Leith smiled across the carriage. “So, Lady Tabitha, how is your plan progressing?”

She winced, but tried to hide it. “My plan? What plan would that be, my lord?” She turned a pointed look upon her cousin, who shrugged.

“Miss Faulkner told me all about it, so there is no point in denying what you’re doing. Have you found an appropriate young miss with whom to antagonize your brother? Tell us all about her.”

Color rose up the back of Lady Tabitha’s neck, drawing Noah’s eye to just that spot. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said.

“I told you Tabby would repudiate her involvement.”

“You are a vile, hateful cousin,” Lady Tabitha said on a laugh. “Fine, yes, we’re trying to find Toby a bride. I’m sure even you can’t deny marriage has helped Owen’s temperament. I just want the same thing for Toby.”

“So very kind of you to look out for your brothers’ wellbeing,” Noah said. “As I’m sure you’ve done this all for their benefit, not for your own.”

She turned her smile on him for the first time in days. “Of course. He’ll be far better off with a wife to look after him.”

“Like Devonport’s sister looks after Raynesford?” Leith asked.

“Well, I suppose you could say she manages him more than looks after him. But yes, that is the general idea.”

“So you want a female of the managing sort like my sister, for your twin,” Noah surmised. “Or would you say one like yourself?” He oughtn’t to have added that on the end.

As the barouche slowed and came to a stop, Lady Tabitha lifted her lips in a teasing grin. “You think me managing, my lord?”

Leith climbed down and turned to assist Miss Faulkner before leading her off to a spot on the Square, leaving Noah and Lady Tabitha alone. Since she was in a better disposition with him at the moment, Noah did not immediately follow them.

“I think you take some perverse pleasure in managing your brothers.”

“And are you opposed to females of the managing sort?” Her eyes challenged him to answer in the wrong way.

“I have a mother and five younger sisters, Lady Tabitha. What do you think?”

“Back to answering questions with questions, are we?”

Noah laughed. “I suppose we are.” He climbed down from the carriage before offering Lady Tabitha his arm. “So you’ve married Raynesford off to my sister, and you’re looking for a bride for Shelton. Who will you manage then?”

She linked her arm in his and they joined Leith and Miss Faulkner. “There is always Father. He needs me. I don’t know how he’d manage his household accounts without me, now that Mother has passed.”

“Surely he could have his secretary take that responsibility,” Leith put in. “I hardly think he will shrivel up and die, should you need to leave him.”

“And why would I need to leave him?” she scoffed.

Noah thought her protest a bit too vehement. “Your husband might have something to say about that when you marry—”

“I won’t marry,” Lady Tabitha interrupted. “That’s all there is to it.” She sat back from the table and folded her hands in her lap. By Jove. What if she intended to follow in her aunt’s path?

“I hear the bergamot ices are lovely,” Miss Faulkner said, her voice cutting through the sudden silence. “I think I should like to try one today, Lord Leith.” She turned a pointed look upon Lord Leith.

So there would be no more discussion of marriage, at least for the time being. Noah knew when to put a topic to rest. “And for you, Lady Tabitha? What flavor would you like?”

She knitted her brow, as though the decision were terribly difficult. “Maple, please,” she finally said.

Noah and Leith excused themselves to cross the street and purchase the ices. On their way back, Noah turned to his companion. “How on earth am I to convince her? She seems wholly opposed to marriage.”

“After we’ve eaten these, I’ll take Miss Faulkner off for a walk so you two can have some time alone. Try to talk to her then. You’ve got to convince her. Maybe not today, but you’ll have to at least convince her to allow a courtship.”

This was not the most helpful advice Noah had ever received.

But Leith stayed true to his word. After they’d all finished with their ices, he rose and turned to Miss Faulkner. “I feel the need for a bit of exercise after that, as delicious as it was. Would you care to join me?”

“Of course,” she replied. “If Tabby and Lord Devonport do not mind our leaving them alone, of course.”

Lady Tabitha stood and fought against the wince that took her face captive. “Oh, I should like to walk with you as well.” Even putting the slightest pressure upon her ankle was clearly causing her a great deal of pain. She must truly loathe his company, if she would be willing to take exercise in such a state.

“But your ankle,” Miss Faulkner countered. “I think it would be best for you to stay seated. Lord Devonport, you’ll stay with her, will you not?”

Lady Tabitha’s face fell. Her look of defeat could have splintered him into a thousand pieces.

“I’d be delighted.” He only hoped he could cajole more smiles from her, that he could set things right between them.

Leith and Miss Faulkner strolled down the way, leaving him alone with Lady Tabitha amidst the hustle and bustle of Mayfair. Noah watched her for a few moments. She looked anywhere, everywhere, but at him.

“Have I offended you, Lady Tabitha?” he asked. His breath seemed caught in his throat while he awaited her answer.

“Pardon? Of course not.” Her response was too swift, too terse. She had no intention of clearing the air between them, of telling him how he had wronged her.

Noah exhaled slowly. He couldn’t allow her to sidestep the issue at hand. “Ever since Raynesford and Elaine married, we’ve been friendly with each other,” he said. “Our relationship used to be easy. You would banter with me, and you offered smiles freely. That’s changed recently. You’re guarded now.”

“Yes. I suppose I am.” Her eyes slowly met his.

Perhaps she would talk to him. “What happened? What did I do?”

“I...you...” Tears filled her eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it. We were fine, and then you asked me to dance, and you never ask me to dance, and I—” The torrent of words stopped with a sharp intake of breath.

“Go on,” he prodded. “And you what?”

Lady Tabitha’s gaze lowered to the table between them. Her neck colored up again, and he couldn’t force himself to look away. He wanted to touch her there. To kiss her there. Then she shook her head. “No, I shouldn’t. I couldn’t.”

He wanted to keep her talking, if for no other reason that he loved seeing her shy and embarrassed. “What’s so bad? Did you not want me to dance with you?”

“Yes. No. Oh, damnation, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

Noah burst out in laughter. He loved that she’d lost control in such a way.

The blush crept around to cover her face. “I must apologize. I shouldn’t have used such language in front of you.”

“Usually, a gentleman might apologize to a lady for his use of language, not the other way around.”

“Usually, a lady would want to be danced with,” she said. “Usually, a lady would know whether or not she is being flirted with. Usually, a lady would know how to respond.” She set her jaw, clenched it. “Usually, a gentleman would not play such games with a lady.”

Aha. There was the rub. “You think I’ve been toying with you?”

“What else should I think? If you have been flirting with me, it is because Toby put you up to it, though I daresay I don’t understand why he would do so. There could be no other reason for it.”

“Could there not? Am I such a poor flirt as that?” He wished he’d been honest with her at the ball. Why hadn’t he just told her what her brothers had suggested? But even then, she would believe him only after her dowry. “I’m so bad at it that you can’t even tell that I really am flirting with you. That I want to.”

“You’re lying to me.”

“I would never lie to you,” Noah said vehemently. He waited for her eyes to reach his. “Never.”

Lady Tabitha tried to speak, but her voice cracked. “So you want to flirt with me?” she asked when her voice would cooperate.

Noah had thought her cheeks couldn’t possibly turn redder than they already were. He had been wrong. “Yes. Is that all right?” He couldn’t quell a grin.

She nodded.

“Good. Don’t forget that.” Not that he had any intention of allowing her to.

Walking along the path to Shelton Hall, Noah had to suppress the urge to whistle. In the two days since he and Lady Tabitha had sorted their differences out, his life could not have taken a better turn.

She had begun to smile and laugh with him again. They’d attended another ball and she had waltzed with him (and, as luck would have it, there had been no sign of either Oglethorpe or Eggerley), though Noah had limited himself to one dance due to her still tender ankle. During another set at that ball, she had consented to sit with him along a well-lit path of the garden, where they had flirted.

And he had made certain she knew he was flirting.

Last night, they attended the opera. Glastonbury had offered Noah the use of his box, so Noah gladly invited Lord and Lady Claremont, as well as Leith and Miss Faulkner to join him and Lady Tabitha. The small grouping provided ample chaperonage, so no tongues would be tempted to flap. Yet his guests were all content to allow Noah free rein in entertaining Lady Tabitha.

But he had truly been looking forward to today, more than any of the rest. Lady Tabitha had agreed to let him take her to Hyde Park. No one else would be coming with them, not even Miss Faulkner. He would have an opportunity to really talk to her. Noah thought, perhaps, she might be open to his proposal. He was prepared for it. Just that morning, Noah had ventured over to Bond Street and visited a jeweler. The ring he bought had a garnet gemstone on a silver band. Simple. Elegant. The silver ought to highlight the shade of her eyes.

He hadn’t decided for certain that today would be the day. After all, the last time they’d discussed the potential for her to marry—not just marry him, but to marry anyone at all—she had been disinclined to continue the conversation. But if his luck of the last few days held out...

The butler showed him in to the drawing room. After only a few minutes the double doors opened wide, but instead of Lady Tabitha, her brothers walked through, leaving the doors standing slightly ajar behind them.

“Devonport,” Shelton said jovially, “good to see you. I see you’ve been hard at work on the bet. I must say, I heartily approve.” He raised the tumbler he had carried in with him as if in toast before taking a sip.

Raynesford took a seat in a wingback chair by the window and stretched out his legs, then motioned for Noah to take the seat across from him. “How are the plans for the wedding proceeding?”

Dash it all. If he’d had a drink, he’d have spit it out all over them from the shock of the question. “I have not yet asked for Lady Tabitha’s hand,” Noah spluttered. “We are not planning the wedding yet.” He hadn’t even spoken to Newcastle, for goodness’ sake. Surely the brothers knew all of this.

“Not your wedding, you nitwit,” Shelton said on a laugh. He plopped down on the settee at Raynesford’s other side. “But bravo! I applaud you on making such an assumption. It can only bode well for your future. I think, however, that my brother wanted to know how the plans for your mother’s wedding to Glastonbury are faring.”

“Oh. Of course.” He didn’t particularly want to think about those precise plans at the moment. For that matter, he had attempted to give it as little thought as possible. Every time the subject came up, he was reminded how soon he would be alone and how dire his financial situation was soon to be. “I’ve reserved St. George’s for the occasion. That set me back a fair bit, but I already knew how much it would cost after my sisters’ weddings over the last five years.”

Raynesford crossed his booted feet in front of him and stretched out his legs. “And the wedding breakfast? Is Glastonbury handling the plans and expenses for their celebration?”

“Absolutely not,” Noah said. “I requested that honor.” He would never allow Glastonbury to know how difficult it was for Noah to afford any of it.

“Why in bloody hell would you do something like that?” Shelton’s voice reached a half-shout. “You don’t exactly have an excess of coin sitting around.”

“He did it because it’s his mother,” Raynesford said. “You would have done the same in his position. What if our Father had died and Mother wanted to remarry? Whether you could afford it or not, you would have done it.”

Shelton frowned, but he did not refute his brother’s claim.

“So,” Raynesford said, “where does that leave you?”

How could he even answer that question? Noah took a breath and tried to sort out the thoughts racing through his head. “Well, I have enough to fund my entailed estates for a year. Two at most. Or it leaves me with a little start-up capital so I could invest in some business venture or another, and hope that it can pay dividends rapidly. But at the moment, I don’t have any grand ideas about business opportunities I’d be inclined to devote my limited funds to.”

The air seemed to be sucked out of the room, as sure as it flew between the lips of Shelton and Raynesford. “I knew it was bad,” Shelton said, “but I never imagined it was quite that bad. All the more reason for you to marry Tabitha as soon as you can.”

“Absolutely,” Raynesford said. “And she seems to have at least some affection for you. It shouldn’t be too difficult to convince her.”

Shelton leaned forward, his eyes narrowed and shrewd. “Father has her dowry set up where a portion of it must go into trust for her.” He took another drink and let it sit in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. “But well over half of it—close to two-thirds—could likely be used as you see fit. It would all just depend on the specifics of the marriage contract you and Father agree to. I’m sure you could work something out to both your satisfaction.”

“So if I marry her,” Noah mused aloud, “we could live off the funds I have remaining, at least for the time being, and I could invest the rest of her dowry in some way?”

Raynesford nodded. “That’s what I would suggest.”

Shelton’s expression was grave. “Just don’t let her know. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt you.” He caught Noah’s eye and held it for a moment. “Or kill you.”

Noah hated the idea of leaving Lady Tabitha in the dark about how her funds would be used—and why. He didn’t want there to be secrets in his marriage. His wife ought to know their situation fully. At least, she ought to know once she was his wife. Perhaps he should keep it a secret until that blessed event occurred, though. Once Lady Tabitha became Lady Devonport, she could even help him to determine what sort of opportunity they should invest in. Maybe if she played a part in the decision, she wouldn’t despise him for it quite so much.

Maybe.

“If you’re interested,” Raynesford said, “I could introduce you to my breeder. He’s done a bit with racehorses in the past. You could invest in them and make a good profit, I believe.”

Shelton chortled, but didn’t elaborate. “Horses. Tabitha would loathe that, so I think it is brilliant.”

Noah raised an eyebrow in question. “Your sister doesn’t like horses?” He had never heard the like.

“Riding,” Raynesford clarified. “She has never cared for riding. Otherwise, she doesn’t mind them overmuch. Particularly the foals. She thinks they’re cute.”

Oh, no. Oh, this was not a good revelation. Not good at all.

Shelton turned to his brother. “He looks like we’ve trampled his puppy again. What is it this time?”

“I planned to take her to Hyde Park this afternoon. For a ride.”

Raynesford’s laugh was loud enough to scare the soiled nappy off a baby. “No carriage?” he managed between gasps for air.

Noah could only shake his head. He’d gone and made a muck of things, and had been completely oblivious to the fact.

Finally, Raynesford controlled himself. “You can borrow—”

“No,” Shelton interrupted. “I’d love to see her reaction. Go on, Devonport. Take Tabitha for a romp through the park.”

Tabitha wrinkled her nose at the reflection in the mirror. “This gown is altogether too revealing, Hester.” Heavens, her bosom was practically spilling out over the top of the lavender muslin. It was unseemly.

Hester looked up from situating Tabitha’s bonnet over her coiffure, just long enough to catch a glimpse of the same image Tabitha had been despairing. “There’s nothing wrong with this gown. The low bodice is all the crack around Town. Gracious, by society’s standards, you’re still far too covered. I don’t know of a single lady who hasn’t been married for over a decade who would wear something like this.”

“I don’t care how fashionable it is. I can’t go out like this.” Especially not with Lord Devonport. She already felt like he could see through her clothing when she was properly covered. But this? She shuddered to think how she could survive an hour in his company with her décolletage on display in such a brazen way.

Hester huffed and continued her attack on the bonnet, pushing pins here and there, and holding up various ribbons against the fabric of the gown. “You’ll go out just as you are, my lady, and you’ll be happy about it.” She finally selected a single ribbon, a cream silk, and used it to thread around the bonnet and tie beneath Tabitha’s chin, then pulled out another length of it to tie at her waist, pulling a touch more tightly than was necessary. “I’ll not have you wearing those frumpy gowns you’ve become so accustomed to while you’re being courted. Do you know what the other lady’s maids would say about me?”

Tabitha frowned. “I’m not being courted.” She ignored Hester’s snort of derision. “And the other maids ought to think you’re to be commended for doing the job you’ve been asked to do, if you dress me in what I prefer to wear.”

“There’s no point in arguing with me,” Hester said. “Now, down the stairs with you.  We can’t keep Lord Devonport waiting all day.” The maid turned to tidy the room from their efforts, then stopped suddenly. “On second thought, I’m going down with you. I don’t trust you not to try to sneak back in and change your clothes.” She quickly returned the extra hat pins and ribbons to the vanity and planted her hands on her hips.

Had Father indoctrinated the entire staff to do everything possible to ensure Tabitha’s cooperation? First Livingston, and now Hester. Who would be next? Cook? Perhaps Cook would feel the need to serve only those foods known to act as aphrodisiacs the next time a gentleman was over for tea. Or maybe Father would set the footmen on her next, sending them out to hunt down stray gentlemen in the streets and drag them inside.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Tabitha slowed and put out a hand to hold Hester back. She lifted a finger to her lips. Voices were coming from the drawing room. Multiple voices. Male voices.

Owen’s muffled timbre came through the half-closed doorway first, saying something about plans for a wedding. Then Lord Devonport said something, but Tabitha couldn’t make out any of his words. She tiptoed closer to the door, careful not to step on the board that incessantly creaked. Not much came through for the next several moments but the deep rumblings of their masculine tones and the occasional shout of laughter.

But then there was no need to strain her ears to hear what Toby shouted. “Why in bloody hell would you do something like that? You don’t exactly have an excess of coin sitting around.”

Hester’s eyes widened, clearly aghast. Tabitha gestured for her to stay back and remain silent. She couldn’t worry about the maid’s delicate ears hearing her brother curse. Not now. Instead, she needed to determine what he was cursing about.

It couldn’t be Owen. Owen had plenty of funds. Both her brothers did. Father had provided more than well for all of his children.

It had to be Lord Devonport.

More muffled sounds greeted Tabitha’s ears. Damn and blast, she wished Jo was here. Her cousin had always been the better eavesdropper. It was as though she’d been born to it. For that matter, perhaps she had been. She’d been doing it as long as Tabitha could remember.

Finally, Tabitha could make out real words again. “I knew it was bad,” Toby said, “but I never imagined it was quite that bad. All the more reason for you to marry Tabitha as soon as you can.”

What? But that could only mean...he wasn’t...Lord Devonport had lied to her. Despite all his promises, despite him swearing he would never tell her a lie, that’s precisely what he’d done. Tabitha felt the fury redden her face.

It was worse than just a simple untruth. Worse still than him being in league with Toby (yet another thing he’d lied to her about—this conversation clearly demonstrated his culpability in that regard).

Lord Devonport was a fortune hunter, just like Oglethorpe and all of his ilk. Just like every man who had ever paid Tabitha court, save the one. Just like she knew they all would be, because Father insisted on raising her dowry at every turn.

And she’d allowed herself to entertain the notion that he could truly have feelings for her. She’d allowed herself to think she might have feelings for him in return. It was enough to make her weak-kneed, to send waves of nausea roiling through her body. This was why she should have rejected Lord Devonport’s suit out of hand, like she had done with so many others. Like Jo had always told her to do. They did not want Tabitha. They could never love her. They wanted her money.

He wanted her money. Her dowry.

She couldn’t stay here any longer. She could no longer listen to them discuss her like a prize stallion at auction. The next thing she knew, they’d be talking about the health of her teeth or the strength of her flanks.

The most lowering sensation she’d ever experienced was fast overcoming her. She had to get out. Now. Before she lost the ability to breathe.

Tabitha spun to face the other direction and made for the front door. “I’ll not be seeing Lord Devonport today,” she said to Hester once she was out of their earshot.

Livingston held out a pelisse and she took it from him.

“But Lady Tabitha,” Hester whispered urgently. “What are you doing?”

How was she bloody well supposed to know that? “I’m going out,” Tabitha replied with as much dignity as she could muster. She slipped her arms into the pelisse and marched to the door.

“I’m coming with you,” Hester said.

“You are not. You’re to stay here.”

The maid wrung her hands in agitation. “And what should I tell him? What should I tell your brothers? Your father?”

“Tell them whatever you like.”

When Livingston failed to open the door for her, she set her most imperious, scathing look upon him.

“Shall I order a carriage for you, my lady?” he asked in dismay. “I can call some footmen to assist you today.”

“That won’t be necessary, Livingston. Thank you.”

Finally, he opened the door. Tabitha stomped down the stairs, slipping and missing the last step. She wound up in a heap at the foot of the landing. When Livingston and Hester started to rush to her aid, she deflected their assistance with a glare and stood on her own.

She brushed herself off, waved at the gentleman across the street who had stopped midstride to witness her collapse, and resituated a stray hair. Then she was off.

“Has something held Lady Tabitha up?” Noah asked Raynesford. He’d enjoyed spending time with the two brothers, despite the fact that Shelton was determined to see him made the fool. Granted, Noah had played into the younger brother’s hand all too well.

But he really wanted to get on with things. He wanted to see if he could coax her to ride with him. He’d gone to the trouble of selecting a docile mare and fitting her with a side-saddle, just to get Lady Tabitha alone for a bit. Just to have a chance to propose if the opportunity presented itself.

That wouldn’t happen if she never appeared, though.

“All the more reason I never intend to get saddled to a woman, myself,” Shelton quipped. “They’re always holding you up. How often do you sit waiting for Lady Raynesford, Owen? At least once a day, I’d wager.”

“Not at all,” Raynesford said. “I request that she be ready half an hour before I want to go. You might want to remember that one, Devonport. It could certainly come into use for you. I’ve done that with Tabitha several times lately, when I’ve taken her and Elaine somewhere.”

Noah made note of it for future use.

Raynesford stood and pulled the bell. “We’ll just send someone to see what has caused the delay.”

A maid hurried in and dipped a curtsey in Raynesford’s direction. “My lord?”

“Will you please see what is keeping Lady Tabitha? Lord Devonport has been waiting for a good while.”

She nodded and scurried out. Before she’d been gone more than a few seconds, another maid returned in her place. “Lord Raynesford, I regret to say that Lady Tabitha has gone out.”

“Out?” Raynesford repeated, dumbfounded.

“Yes. Out.”

Shelton stood and towered over the girl. “Where did she go, Hester? She knew Lord Devonport would be calling upon her.”

Noah had to give Hester her due. She did not cower before Shelton, not even with him glowering down from nearly a foot above her, despite the fact that he clearly intimidated her.

“I cannot say, Mr. Shelton,” she replied, her voice tranquil as an autumn day even if her eyes told another story.

Raynesford rose and positioned himself next to his brother. “Why can’t you say? And why did you not go with her?”

“She told me to remain here, my lord. I tried to go with her. Livingston wanted to call a carriage or send a footman with her, but she refused that as well.”

Now, Noah shared their concern. She’d gone out on foot, with an already ailing ankle, completely and utterly alone. Lady Tabitha had clearly taken leave of her senses.

“And she did not tell you her destination?” Noah prodded. “Was she upset?”

“No destination, my lord,” Hester replied. “And yes, she was most assuredly upset. I can’t imagine her behaving so rashly otherwise.”

“You’ve not been her maid long enough, then,” Shelton muttered, garnering a glower from Raynesford.

“Any idea what had her upset this time?” Raynesford drawled.

The maid shifted her gaze back and forth between the three of them for a few moments before finally speaking. “I couldn’t say, my lord.”

Noah would have placed the second bet of his life that she was lying to them outright. Hester knew exactly why her mistress was upset, but didn’t want them to know.

“Thank you, Hester, that will be all,” Raynesford said. The maid slipped out without a sound and he followed behind her, pulling the door closed, before turning to Noah and Shelton. “Tabitha overheard us. It has to be that.”

Shelton cursed aloud. “You’re right. We left the door ajar when we came in.”

“You ought to learn to keep your voice down,” Raynesford admonished his younger brother.

Noah didn’t have time for the brothers to get into one of their spats. He held up a hand for silence. “It doesn’t matter why she left. What matters is that we find her before she comes to harm.” Who knew what would happen to her if she was in a state and Oglethorpe or Eggerley came upon her.

“You’re right, of course,” Raynesford said. “We should split up.”

Shelton nodded. “She could have gone to see Jo. I’ll start there.”

“Good,” Raynesford said. “Glanville and Lavinia got into Town yesterday, so they are a possibility as well. And their townhouse is near Pickford’s, so I’ll try there as a precaution. You should stop by and see Uncle Jasper and Aunt Vanessa. There is always a possibility she could have sought solace there, however unlikely it may be with Gerald and Isaac around. She doesn’t fancy their company much more than yours, Toby.”

Goodness, they had a lot of relatives. At least Noah assumed they were all relatives. At any rate, he needed to get moving. There was no time to waste. “I’ll go to the more public places—Hyde Park, Gunter’s, and the like. She couldn’t have gotten much farther than there on foot, at least.” Especially since she had a sore ankle. But if someone had collected her in a carriage...

He couldn’t think like that. He’d spend the remainder of his lifetime in Bedlam if he did.

Shelton nodded. “Excellent. Let’s be off, then.”

Only as Noah mounted his horse and took off toward Hyde Park did he fully realize the ramifications of Lady Tabitha overhearing their conversation.

She knew he needed her money. She would never marry him now.

Every step caused Tabitha more pain. When she stepped down with the right foot, her ankle sobbed for a moment before adjusting to the burden of her weight. That was still better than the left; every time she shifted her weight to that foot, her knee screamed out in protest. She’d done more than just twinge it in the fall.

Which made going out for a walk—alone—to an as yet undetermined destination one of the most thoroughly idiotic things she’d ever done in her life.

She ought to have just gone into the drawing room and given Lord Devonport and her brothers a biting set down, letting them all know in no uncertain terms what she thought of fortune hunters and the sort of brothers who would encourage them. Failing that, she ought to have marched herself back upstairs and planted herself in her chamber to sulk while Hester tended to her ailing ankle.

The ailing heart she would have to tend herself.

Instead of doing either of these sensible things, she’d gone and added another injury to the growing list, thereby proving her superior intelligence.

With the sharp pangs associated with each movement, Tabitha hadn’t even noticed where she was going. She ought to at least determine that. A brief glance around revealed her to be on Curzon Street, headed directly for Hyde Park. Goodness, she’d gone quite a bit farther than she had intended. If she’d really intended anything at all, that is, aside from getting away for a bit.

The walk back was not something she wished to think about at present, yet it was something she really ought to think about sooner rather than later.

If she had decided to start using her senses again, at least.

Yet another conveyance pulled up alongside her. Tabitha had lost count of how many acquaintances had stopped to see if she needed assistance during her walk. She’d waved them all on their way with her assurance that she was quite all right. Even though she ought to accept a ride, she steeled herself to repeat the phrase that had become something of a refrain.

“Lady Tabitha,” called out a familiar voice. She looked up to see Lord Oglethorpe leering down at her from the high seat of his phaeton. “Fancy meeting you here today. And all alone? Why on earth are you out by yourself on a day such as this?”

“Good afternoon, my lord,” she began, intending to send him away as soon as possible, but a clap of thunder caught her off guard. Were they to have a storm? How had she been so unaware of the impending weather? But sure enough massive black thunderclouds converged in the skies and a fat raindrop landed on the path before her. Oh, dear. Perhaps the circumstances called for a change of plans. “I had thought to take a bit of exercise, but it suddenly seems rather foolhardy.”

“Indeed,” he replied, “the skies look ominous. And you are without even a parasol to protect you. My phaeton is not covered, but perhaps we can have you safely home before the heavens open up and release their torrent. If not, at least you will be safe and dry sooner if you allow me to drive you than if you continue on foot.” Without even waiting for her response, Lord Oglethorpe climbed down and reached for her hand to assist her up.

A clopping of racing hooves sounded behind her as two horses bore down upon them. “Lady Tabitha, thank goodness I’ve found you.” Lord Devonport. The absolute last person in all of England she wanted to see at the moment.

“My apologies, my lord. I was unaware I was lost,” she replied tartly without turning to face him. Placing her hand in Lord Oglethorpe’s, she climbed into the phaeton and assumed her seat.

“Your brothers and I are all out searching for you. Your maid was unaware where you went, ma’am. She said you were upset, that something had caused you discomfort.” The way he said ‘something’ caught her attention. Could he realize she had overheard their conversation? That didn’t matter. He knew what he was...and now Tabitha did as well. They were on even terrain.

Tabitha finally looked at Lord Devonport. He seemed truly distraught, with clear blue eyes imploring to her and his mussed hair peeking out at odd angles from beneath his top hat. “Did she?” she asked. “She was mistaken. As you can see, I am perfectly well.”

Lord Oglethorpe had resumed his seat beside her. Another crack of thunder sounded, startling the horses. The mare beside Lord Devonport, in particular, was spooked, dancing about and pulling at the reins before he could calm her. She wore a side-saddle. Good God! He’d intended to take her riding. Thank goodness she hadn’t gone with him.

“You’ll have to excuse us, Devonport,” Lord Oglethorpe said. “I must get Lady Tabitha home as soon as possible or she’ll be drenched.”

“I could take her,” Lord Devonport argued. “Her brothers expect me to return, whether I’ve located her or not. It would be no trouble.”

What nerve he had. Lightning rent through the clouds, flashing in Lord Devonport’s eyes.

“That will be quite unnecessary. Please proceed, Lord Oglethorpe.”

With a flick of the reins, Lord Oglethorpe nudged the pair leading his phaeton into motion. Lord Devonport moved his horse into their path, blocking the way. “I’m afraid I must insist—”

“What you must do,” Lord Oglethorpe sneered, “is get out of the way.” Another fat raindrop fell, landing on Tabitha’s gloved hand. The water spread to cover almost half of her glove. More drops followed soon behind, turning into a near deluge. “She will be drenched by the time I get her home as it is. If we take the time to transfer her from my phaeton to horseback, she will likely come down with the influenza, or a chill at the very least. Would you like that on your conscience?”

Lord Devonport hesitated. He looked from Tabitha to Lord Oglethorpe, then back again.

Another streak of lightning raced across the sky and a great boom sounded, and still Lord Devonport had not made up his mind.

The fine muslin fabric of Tabitha’s gown had already indelicately plastered itself to her, outlining every nook and cranny of the body she wished to hide. She hugged her arms to her chest to warm herself as best she could, but her arms could only do so much. “Go, Lord Oglethorpe. Please.” She would beg if she must, but remaining where they were would serve no one. Her teeth chattered from the sudden chill.

Finally, Lord Devonport nodded and backed his horse away, allowing the phaeton to pass. “I’ll follow you.”

Tabitha pushed the now limp form of her bonnet back from her eyes and stared Lord Devonport through. “No. You’ve done quite enough already. Go home, my lord.” He acted as though he had not heard her, nudging his horse into motion and pulling on the reins of the mare to come alongside him. Soon, he rode directly to her right, wearing a grave expression.

Lord Oglethorpe looked down at her with concern. “Do you want his escort?”

A decision must be made: one fortune hunter or two? Feeling a rush of reckless abandon, Tabitha shook her head. “No. I wish to have nothing to do with Lord Devonport. He is a scamp of the first order. A fortune hunter, and no more.” Her voice carried over the onslaught of the deluge.

Lord Devonport looked crestfallen but resolute. Immediately, she wanted to take her words back.

“I will see you safely home, my lady. Then I will go.”

For the moment, Tabitha was glad for the rain; it concealed her tears.

“Oh, my lady!” Hester said as Noah and Oglethorpe assisted Lady Tabitha through the door. Noah had attempted to carry her in his arms, but she’d struggled against him. Oglethorpe had then made it near impossible with his own attempts to do the same.

“Get a fire started in her chamber right away,” Noah ordered the butler. The man gave a curt nod and rushed off. He didn’t seem to mind that Noah had no business giving orders at Shelton Hall. Good. The maid had better be the same. “Get her upstairs and out of these wet things immediately, Hester.” It took everything in him not to toss Lady Tabitha over his shoulder right that very moment and handle it himself. Particularly since he could almost see through the sheer fabric of her gown. He wanted to rip it all off of her and warm her himself. But now was not the time for such thoughts. “She needs to be dry and warm, and she is not to leave her chamber at all the rest of the day. Can I count on you to see to it?”

The maid nodded, but Lady Tabitha pulled her arm free from him before extricating her other arm from Lord Oglethorpe. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Lord Devonport,” she said.

Her pelisse didn’t cover enough. Not nearly enough. The wet material hugged her hips and drew Noah’s eyes. It attracted Oglethorpe’s attention, too. She crossed her newly freed arms over her chest again, as she had done in the phaeton earlier, which served to lift her generous breasts higher and push them closer together. Good Lord in heaven. Noah closed his eyes to regain his focus.

“Weren’t you supposed to be going now?” Oglethorpe asked. The bastard had the audacity to narrow his eyes. “She is home. She is safe.”

“That she is, Oglethorpe,” Shelton said, coming out from the drawing room. “Thank you for your assistance. I’m sure we can handle things from here.” When Oglethorpe didn’t immediately begin to leave, he continued, “You ought to get home and dry yourself. Kindly cease dripping water all over my father’s floors.”

Oglethorpe bowed to Lady Tabitha. “If you require no more assistance from me, my lady, I shall take my leave. Might I see you at Lady Mallinder’s dinner party tomorrow evening?”

Shelton frowned. “We’re not attending—”

“Yes,” Lady Tabitha cut in with a glare in her brother’s direction. “Yes, I’ll see you there, my lord.”

Well, that changed Noah’s plans for the next day. He’d have to arrange for his secretary send Lady Mallinder an acceptance first thing.

Oglethorpe smiled at her, a greasy, sycophantic sort of grin. “Until then.” He backed away and turned to leave before stopping short. “Devonport, aren’t you coming as well?”

Shelton stomped over and held the door wide. “I have need of Devonport. He’s staying.” He placed a firm hand on Oglethorpe’s shoulder and pressed, leaving the interloper no option but to leave. “Good day to you.” Then he closed the door in Oglethorpe’s bemused face.

Lady Tabitha let out a huff in the background. She had every right to be cross. Hopefully, Noah could find a way to handle her disgruntlement. What he absolutely could not handle was seeing Oglethorpe with his hand on her person, or even seeing the cad in her presence, for one moment longer. Thankfully, Shelton was of the same mind on that accord.

Drawing a deep breath, Shelton turned to the lady’s maid. “Hester, take Lady Tabitha above stairs and do as Lord Devonport instructed.”

Lady Tabitha bristled. “Hester is my maid. She does not answer to you. She most certainly does not answer to Lord Devonport. Who, by the way, claimed he would see me safely home and then leave. I want him to do so.”

“I don’t care what you want, Tabitha. What I want to know is why you thought it wise to tramp off on foot to some undisclosed destination without a chaperone and then get caught in a rainstorm,” Shelton countered, moving in to intimidate. “I want to know how you came to be in Oglethorpe’s company and why you would prefer his company to Devonport’s. I want to know why you are standing in the hallway in a paper-thin gown that is practically painted to your skin, not to mention rather transparent, and haven’t done a damned thing to cover yourself.”

Noah didn’t need the reminder. He did his best not to groan aloud.

With her brother’s last comment, she looked down. Lady Tabitha let out a gasp, as though she had somehow failed to notice how poorly the fabric covered her. She tugged frantically at her pelisse, though in its doused state her efforts proved fruitless.

When she remained silent, Shelton softened his tone. “Go upstairs, Tabitha. Get yourself dry and warm.” He caught Hester’s eye, and the maid silently led her mistress away.

Noah watched her go, until he realized he was staring like a green lad at the gentle sway of her hips, imagining them unclothed. He abruptly shifted his gaze to Shelton, but that was no better. The knowing look in the man’s eyes was unsettling.

“Where did you find her?” Shelton asked. He led Noah into the drawing room and motioned him near the hearth, where a small blaze was burning.

“Curzon Street. Almost to Hyde Park. Oglethorpe beat me to her.” Luckily the villain had not yet absconded with her. Oglethorpe could have ruined her within a few moments, if Noah hadn’t arrived when he had. On second thought...would have, not could have.

“I don’t trust the bastard,” Shelton said. “He is too unctuous by half, particularly when he’s around Tabitha.”

If only Shelton knew what Noah knew. “I don’t trust him either. I couldn’t leave her alone with him, even though she was furious with me.” He would never be able to live with himself if he had left her alone in Oglethorpe’s presence. She could thank him for his interference later—when she understood.

If she ever understood. She might never choose to see any difference between Noah and Oglethorpe. They were both fortune hunters, after all.

Shelton gave a grim smile. “Well, she is home now. She’s safe. You ought to go and dry off. It wouldn’t do for you to become ill.”

Fighting the urge to follow Lady Tabitha upstairs and take care of her himself was proving far more problematic than Noah ever would have imagined. But he had to trust her care to her brothers. At least for now. At least until he convinced her to marry him. “You’ll be sure she is well?”

“Of course,” Shelton replied caustically. “I want her in perfect health when I murder her for giving us all such a scare.”

Noah wanted her in perfect health for very different reasons. He couldn’t get the image of her wet body out of his mind—the round hips, the perfect, soft mounds of her breasts, the smooth peachy, creamy skin. He wanted to do things to her. Wet things. Slippery things. By Jove, he needed to remove that image from his mind. He’d never survive another day in her company, otherwise.

Hester’s eyes were fretful. “My lady, you must come down to see Lord Devonport. At least for a brief time. Your father insists.” The maid wrung her hands together as she looked over at Tabitha nonchalantly writing in a diary.

“Father can insist all he wants. I refuse to see the man.” Not yet. Not now. Not while she was still so angry and hurt and addled. Not while she couldn’t erase the image of him riding steadfastly alongside her, drenched to the bone and shivering, refusing to leave her side. It was only one day past the wretched event. Tabitha put down her quill and closed the diary before facing her maid fully. “I know you don’t fancy delivering this news to my father. I’ll do it. He ought to take his frustrations out on me instead of you anyway.”

Finally, Hester seemed able to breathe again. “Are you certain? I could do it.” Her tone held little, if any, conviction.

Tabitha stood and winced. Just when her ankle seemed to finally be on the mend, she was forced to favor the knee on the other leg, thereby putting more pressure on the ankle. Who knew fleeing from confrontation could be so painful? Still, she steeled herself against the discomfort and made her way through the corridors to her father’s private study. A sharp knock at the door was followed almost immediately by “Come!” A liveried footman pushed the door open wide, and Tabitha crossed the threshold into a room filled with the scents of leather and wood.

Father was poring over his ledgers, but after a moment he glanced up at her. “Yes?” he prodded. “Why are you here and not below stairs with your gentleman caller?” A lock of his graying hair fell over his gray eyes—the very same eyes as Tabitha’s—and he hastily brushed it aside.

“I have no desire to see Lord Devonport,” she said. Father’s eyes flashed silver for a moment, but she pressed on. “He has made it clear he only wants my dowry. He does not want me. I’ll not have him.”

“And just how did he make such a thing clear to you? Did he tell you as much?”

“No. I overheard a conversation.”

Father looked up at her and scowled. “You were eavesdropping again. Will you and your cousins ever outgrow such a habit?” He shook his head as though to clear it. “It doesn’t matter how you heard what you think you’ve heard. What does matter is that he’s never said anything of the sort directly to you. Nor has he to me.”

“He as good as admitted it to me,” Tabitha countered. “Or at least he didn’t deny it.”

“When was this?” Father asked. His expression held dubious inquiry.

“Yesterday afternoon. Lord Oglethorpe asked me if I wanted Lord Devonport to accompany us on our way back here. I said I wanted nothing to do with the fortune hunter. Lord Devonport did not refute my claim.”

Her father shook his head. “Tabitha, that is hardly an admission. I think, perhaps, you ought to go down and talk to him. Sort it out like adults.”

The only thing she wanted to sort was Lord Devonport’s backside out of her house. “There is nothing to be discussed. His attentions are unwanted. I’ll not see him.”

“You will if I order you to,” Father said. His tone held menace, but Tabitha would not budge. “I expect you to find a husband this Season. I think I’ve made myself perfectly clear on that matter.”

“You have. But let me make myself clear as well. I will not marry Lord Devonport. I will not go down and speak with him today. I don’t care what you do to me. You can carry me over your shoulder down the stairs, but as soon as you set me on my feet I’ll march back up to my chamber. I will not profess to entertain his pursuit, just because you want me to.” Her steadfast position on this matter had left her father’s face crestfallen. “I’m sorry, Father. I know you want what is best for me. Just please understand that Lord Devonport is not best for me. Not in the least.”

He sighed, a long, drawn-out breath. It made him look old. Frail. Tabitha hated that she consistently added to his worries.

Finally he said, “Very well. I’ll let Lord Devonport know you will not be down to see him. But I still expect you to do your best with other gentlemen this Season, Tabitha.”

“I will,” she said, moving around the great oak desk between them to kiss him on the cheek. “I promise I’ll give any other gentleman who so desire a chance to pay me court.” That didn’t mean she would accept any of them. But at least it would keep her father happy.

“Go on.” Father waved her out of his study. “Let me return to my work.”

Tabitha hobbled on her way and spent the rest of the afternoon resting her ankle and knee. Thankfully, Lady Mallinder’s plans for the evening did not include dancing. She doubted she could handle even one set, and Lord Oglethorpe would surely expect at least that much after their encounter the previous day. She’d have to find a way to discourage his continued attentions this evening, despite the promise she had made to her father. At least he wouldn’t be present to see for himself, whatever she decided to do to dissuade Oglethorpe.

When evening came around, Hester helped her to don a peach silk evening gown. Toby knocked on the open door of Tabitha’s dressing room as Hester fixed her coiffure. “I see you’re almost ready. But I can’t believe you’re forcing me to go with you to this vile event.”

Typical Toby. She never once said anything to the effect of ‘Oh, gracious me, Toby. Whatever will I do? I don’t have anyone to escort me to Lady Mallinder’s tonight. Please, you absolutely must accompany me.’ She wouldn’t have done even if she felt it necessary to bring an escort. “I’m not forcing you to do anything. You may feel free to do whatever you like this evening.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and assumed a blasé expression. “Allow me to rephrase. Since Owen and Elaine had already accepted invitations to the Pulteney ball this evening and Father is off for a night of cards, no one remains to accompany you save me.”

“What fustian nonsense. Hester can accompany me, can you not?” Even without anyone to accompany her, Tabitha would be perfectly fine. She was almost nine-and-twenty, for goodness’ sake.

“Your maid,” Toby drawled, “has already proven herself incapable of keeping you from harm. Or have you forgotten yesterday so hurriedly?”

“I came to no serious harm. You’re stretching for a reason to interfere again.” There was no telling what else he might be planning.

Toby huffed. “No harm? So that is why you’ve hobbled around and nursed your knee since your return, is it? No, Tabitha. Clearly you need someone to keep an eye on you.”

“You’re acting like I’m some naïve debutante, like I cannot be trusted to look after myself.”

“So ending up alone with Oglethorpe, wet to your bones and with your gown plastered so he could see every curve of your body is the behavior of a lady who ought to be trusted to look after herself?” Toby stared straight through her. “I’m coming with you.” He stalked off, calling after him as he descended the stairs, “I’m ordering the carriage brought ’round. Come down when you’re ready.”

Hester pushed a few final pins into Tabitha’s hair. “Would you still like for me to accompany you tonight, my lady? I can be ready in a few minutes’ time.”

That would be just what she needed: Toby poking his nose into her affairs at every turn, and Hester doing so when he couldn’t. It was going to be enough just to find a way to convince Lord Oglethorpe to leave her to herself.

Tabitha gingerly got to her feet and reached for her reticule. “No, that won’t be necessary.” She’d just have to find a way to avoid both Lord Oglethorpe and Toby. At least there should only be the two of them to contend with.

Noah stood near the hearth of Lady Mallinder’s grand hall. The countess had set up a music area in one corner with a pianoforte, a violin, and stacks of printed music, should any of the younger ladies care to play for the gathering. Another section of the room featured tables for cards, and the older gentlemen in attendance had converged there. The hearth was surrounded by plush furnishings and had an upside-down hat resting on a table, filled with bits of parchment. He could only imagine charades would be the activity of note to take place there at some point that evening. Various seating areas were scattered throughout, rapidly filling with matrons who carried glasses of lemonade alongside small plates of biscuits and sandwiches, and who often placed their lorgnettes to their eyes in order to look down upon those supposedly beneath their station.

Lady Mallinder had gone out of her way to make certain there was some sort of appropriate entertainment for everyone present.

Noah couldn’t be bothered by any of it. He had only one focus for the evening, one purpose for being present. So he had situated himself where he could clearly see everyone as they came and went, and planned to remain just there until she arrived. He’d already spotted Oglethorpe, but not Lady Tabitha. When she had refused to see him that afternoon, Noah had stayed long enough to ensure Shelton would escort her tonight. Leith had already promised to attend some other function with Claremont and Miss Faulkner. Noah needed any extra help he could get.

A group of debutantes in their various shades of white, fluttering their fans and looking coyly over at him, took up seats nearby. He looked the other way.

“Lovely to see you here, Lord Devonport,” one of them called out.

He stifled a sigh. It would not do to be impolite. Noah looked over to where the giggling ladies sat and found Lady Cressica amongst them. It must have been she who spoke, as he didn’t recognize any of the others. “Good evening, Lady Cressica. Ladies,” he said with a nod. This elicited another peal of giggles. By gad, they were maddening as a group. Then he turned back to the entryway and watched for Lady Tabitha.

Finally, Shelton stepped through with Lady Tabitha on his arm, a revelation in peach silk that perfectly complemented her skin. By Jove, how he wanted to taste her skin there, just below her neck in that spot where she always fiddled with the jewels adorning her. She must not realize that her nervous gesture drew his eye, or she wouldn’t do it otherwise. Each step she took was placed gingerly, with great care. A smile rested on her face, but it was far from genuine. Her ankle must still be troubling her.

She oughtn’t to have gone for a walk yesterday. She oughtn’t to have come tonight.

He needed to get to her, to convince her to sit. Noah started to cross the room before he caught sight of Oglethorpe out of the corner of his eye. The mongrel was closer than Noah by half and wore a victorious gleam in his beady, black eyes.

Without making a fool of himself and bounding across a cluster of armchairs, there was no way Noah could reach her first. Not that he wasn’t tempted to do just that. But he somehow restrained himself. Hopefully, Shelton would prevent his sister from making any rash decisions.

When Oglethorpe reached Lady Tabitha and bowed, she looked up and caught Noah’s eye. Her silvery gaze widened for a fraction of a second. Just long enough for Noah to acknowledge her shock at his attendance that evening. Then Oglethorpe straightened and blocked her from Noah’s view.

Noah continued across the grand room, making his way closer to her with each stride. When he had almost reached her, Oglethorpe turned with Lady Tabitha’s hand on his arm and walked away.

“Why did you allow her to leave with him?” Noah asked Shelton seconds later.

“Allow her? I dare you to try and stop Tabitha once she’s made up her mind. She acts as though she has no intention of encouraging the man in the carriage the entire way here, and then as soon as she’s in his presence she can’t be deterred. I’m as baffled by her actions as anyone.”

Noah didn’t want to sit about in a sulk. He wanted to get closer to her, to them, so he could be sure Oglethorpe had no opportunity to compromise her.

That meant he would have to do something the idea of which was abominably abhorrent. He walked back across the room to where he had been before and bowed to the group of debutantes. “Lady Cressica, might you like to take a turn about the room with me?” he asked, though it pained him to do so. She plastered on her artificial smile and rose to take his arm. At least having her by his side, he would appear inconspicuous to most of the assembly.

And he wouldn’t have to talk much, because she certainly wouldn’t be. That was a small favor.

Oglethorpe led Lady Tabitha to a settee near the pianoforte, where a young girl had positioned herself to play and sing. Noah situated himself and Lady Cressica close enough that he could see what was taking place between them at all times.

He watched. And he waited.

Lady Tabitha accepted a glass of lemonade from Oglethorpe and turned back to the debutante at the pianoforte. As she rotated her gaze, she locked eyes with Noah for the briefest of moments. He nodded in her direction. Color rose up the back of her neck again, though he couldn’t ascertain if it was from embarrassment or anger.

Whichever had caused it, Noah didn’t mind. He had seen it occur all too frequently over the past many years, trained upon her two brothers. Noah liked to see the irritation in her when it was directed in his direction, instead.

It meant she cared.

The previous night had been one of the most tedious of Noah’s entire life. At the same time, somehow, it was perhaps the most sensually irritating he’d ever experienced.

He’d spent the whole of the evening with Lady Cressica at his side, a girl with no more sense than a bag of turnips, all the while watching Lady Tabitha’s every move. Lady Tabitha, however, spent the entire evening fawning over the attentions Oglethorpe lavished upon her.

When Oglethorpe spoke, she leaned in to listen, and Noah’s eyes were drawn to her entirely-too-covered bosom. When Oglethorpe stood, she took his hand, and Noah thought of the softness of the skin kept hidden beneath her kid gloves. When Oglethorpe walked, she walked along his side, and Noah itched to be the one her hip and thigh brushed against as the silky fabric swirled and swayed about her legs.

He’d gone home with a headache and a throbbingly painful erection, the likes of which he could hardly remember experiencing in his life, pushing against the flap of his trousers.

And now, he’d had about all he could handle. Lady Tabitha’s avoidance of him had to come to an end. There was nothing else to be done for it. He would have to find a way to get her to speak to him, and then he’d have to pay the piper.

How he intended to go about all of this, he had no idea. But a good place to start would be calling at Shelton Hall. So, there he went.

When Livingston opened the door, Noah was glad to see Shelton coming down the stairs directly behind him. Shelton’s presence meant help. He would be sure Lady Tabitha came down to see him, even if she came grudgingly. Livingston, on the other hand, could do no more than show Noah to the drawing room and deliver the message that he had arrived to call upon her. He was no help for Noah’s cause.

A silent look passed between Noah and Shelton, and then Shelton nodded. “Livingston, please show Lord Devonport to the drawing room. I’ll let Tabitha know that you’re here.” The look in Shelton’s eye said he intended to do far more than simply let her know of Noah’s presence. He spun around on the bottom stair and headed back up. Good. Noah hadn’t been obliged to say a word.

After Noah had waited alone for several minutes, Shelton came back with Lady Tabitha in tow. He wasn’t quite hauling her bodily, but there was an admittedly fine distinction between that and the manner in which he tugged on Lady Tabitha’s arm as she tried to dig her delicate slippers into the floor.

Noah stood and bowed. “Lady Tabitha.” She stared at the floor. He should have brought flowers. Next time he needed to remember flowers. His sisters had always been more amenable to a gentleman caller if the gentleman in question had brought a bouquet with him.

“Well,” Shelton said heartily, “I’ll just leave you two alone then.” He assisted Lady Tabitha into a chair (forced would be too strong a word—somewhat) and then left, pulling the door closed behind him.

Noah sat across from her, but she would not raise her eyes. Lavender again. Her dress was lavender sprigged muslin. He imagined the gray of her eyes would take on the shade, if only she’d look up at him. Her hair was down today, in curls that cascaded around her face and fell toward her bosom. Instead of twiddling with her necklace, her fingers toyed with one of the curls that lay there. Noah had to close his eyes for a moment. Clear his head. Although he might have done it too late; his blood was already flowing from one head to the other.

“It seems I’ve done something to upset you again,” Noah started.

“Yes,” Lady Tabitha said. Then she raised her eyes and glared daggers through him. He’d been right. They were a lavender-ish shade. “No. No, you haven’t done anything to upset me.”

“You’re clearly cross.”

She gave a brusque nod. “I am. But not due to anything you’ve done. I’m angry because of what you are. Because I allowed myself to believe you to be something else. I believed you to be honorable. I was sorely mistaken.”

Dash it all. His blood drained back to its proper place. How had he gotten himself into such an impossible scenario?

Lord Devonport’s face fell; he looked more downtrodden than Tabitha had ever seen him. Good. He ought to feel mortified. “What is it you think I am?” he asked.

“You’re a liar. You’re a cur. And most damningly, you’re a fortune hunter.”

With each point he blanched, but he did not turn his gaze away from her. He looked her straight in the eye. Steadfast. Stalwart. So he did have some pluck to him.

“I do not deny that my financial situation is dismal,” he started. “But I have not lied to you. I have never lied to you. I may not have told you everything I should have, but I have not lied to you.”

Tabitha scoffed. “You’re a fortune hunter. You only want anything to do with me because you know the size of my dowry. I assume this is what Toby put you up to?”

Lord Devonport took a deep breath. “Your brothers knew of my situation. They suggested that since we already have a cordial relationship, perhaps you might be a more comfortable fit than another—”

“Than Lady Cressica?” Tabitha interrupted. “Or perhaps Miss Jennings? I believe you’ve been paying each of them court as well as me. How will you make the ultimate decision? Will it be the size of the dowry, or will malleability of the bride play a factor, my lord?”

“I don’t want either of them. I want you.” His eyes implored her. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

Of course he wanted Tabitha. Her dowry was more than double each of theirs, and then some. “I see. You want the old, fat bride who must be desperate instead of the young, dimwitted bride who might have other options. Makes perfect sense to me.”

“No—”

Tabitha cut him off again. “I apologize. I oughtn’t to have said that about Miss Jennings. It was rather insulting, was it not? She is young, it is true, but I would not say she’s dimwitted. Lady Cressica, however...”

“Stop,” Lord Devonport said. “This is getting out of hand. You haven’t allowed me to say what I came here to say.”

Tabitha stood and walked to the door. “What is out of hand is your continued pursuit. Hear me now, Lord Devonport. You are a fortune hunter. You’re out to improve your own station through some poor, unsuspecting lady who doesn’t know better than to tie herself to the likes of you. I am not that lady. I never intend to marry at all, but I will most decisively never marry a man who wants me only for the money I bring to a marriage. May I advise you to give up your hunt? Feel free to do so at any time.”

She walked coolly out of the drawing room and closed the door, then climbed the stairs and made her way to her chamber. Once she was safely inside, she leaned against the door and fought down the fresh bout of tears threatening to overwhelm her. Damn and blast, why did she have to be right? Lord Devonport didn’t care for her. He would never feel an affection for her, or look at her as anything other than a full coffer or a means to avoid debtor’s prison.

He could have denied it. He could have continued tell bouncers and told her how very wrong she was. He could have broken out words like ‘love’ and ‘adoration,’ or even ‘fondness.’ But he hadn’t. Instead, he told her in no uncertain terms that his financial situation was dire.

She wished Jo were here. If ever there was a time that she needed her cousin, it was now. Jo would tell her what to do. She’d tell her what a silly twit she’d been to ever think a man like Lord Devonport could want her for herself, that they all only wanted her for her dowry. A sad fact that would never change. She’d remind Tabitha that this was precisely the reason they’d formed the Old Maids’ Club to begin with, and that there was no point in going back on their pact now.

Or if Bethanne were there, she would hold Tabitha and tell her to cry until she couldn’t cry any longer. She would sit at her pianoforte and play, and all the hurts that Tabitha had stored inside would flow out of her. Bethanne would dole out compassion and empathy, and do it all in a quiet and kind manner, and Tabitha would have no option but to feel better when it was all said and done.

If Aunt Rosaline were there—if she were still herself and not some sad, empty shell of the woman she once was—she would plop down on the bed beside Tabitha and pull her into her arms. She’d say that any man who couldn’t love Tabitha for precisely who she was didn’t deserve her anyway, so there was no point in wasting good tears over him that could be better spent elsewhere. She would tell Tabitha that she was beautiful, and Tabitha would laugh it off as her aunt being partial...but she would be laughing, nonetheless.

But Jo wasn’t there. Bethanne wasn’t there. Aunt Rosaline would never again be there for Tabitha in such a way. She’d have to sort her head out on her own this time.

Tabitha needed time. She needed space to think clearly. If she stayed in Town, she’d have neither, even if she snuck off to stay with Jo at Hazelwood House for a while. Visitors would come to call. There would be the unremitting hubbub of comings and goings.

The sounds and activity of London never ceased.

Staying was not an option. She needed to get away from the Season. Away from the ton and all of its goings on.

She could go to the Cottage at Round Hill. Bethanne and Aunt Rosaline would welcome her with open arms. But with Aunt Rosaline’s care, and little Finn running around, there would be little peace and quiet to be found.

Round Hill was out too.

That left going to one of Father’s country estates. The only one well staffed and prepared for a member of the family to come home was his principle seat, Ainsworth Court in Cumberland. They wouldn’t be expecting anyone home right away, but she could send word ahead.

That’s what she needed to do. Tabitha had enough pin money waiting to be used that she could easily afford to hire a carriage for the journey; she wouldn’t need to ask to use one of Father’s. Doing so would only alert him to the fact that she was planning to leave. He wouldn’t take that well, not when he was so determined to see her married. No, it would be better to go without letting anyone know, and to leave a note explaining what she’d done. At least then he couldn’t stop her.

With her mind made up, Tabitha headed into her dressing room. She hefted a trunk out from the corner and threw open the armoire. One at a time, she removed her various gowns from the wardrobe, hastily folded them, and tossed them inside the case. When the armoire was half-empty, the first trunk was full. She closed it and pushed it aside, then opened the next trunk to begin the process again.

The new chest still had a few odds and ends at the bottom, so Tabitha bent to retrieve them. A smattering of hair pins were scattered on the floor, which she collected and placed with the rest of her pins by the bureau. She picked up a bonnet and set it aside, only to find a folded letter beneath it.

Tabitha picked up the letter. It was old, with bent edges and faded ink where it was addressed to her in Aunt Rosaline’s sprawling handwriting. The wax seal had long since fallen off.

Her hands shook as she opened it. Tabitha knew this letter. She knew precisely what it said, though she hadn’t looked at it or read it in many years. Aunt Rosaline sent it to her on her twelfth birthday. She’d read it so many times that the parchment was nearly falling apart at the folds, so many times that her tears had left splatters over the words.

Knowing it by heart was not enough to stop her from opening it again. Carefully, painstakingly, Tabitha undid each fold of the foolscap and held it out before her.

My Dearest Tabitha,

Twelve years old! How swiftly the time has gone. It seems only yesterday you were bouncing on my knees. Now, you bounce your young cousins on knees of your own.

Sometimes I worry about you. I see a beautiful young lady who cares more for what others expect her to be than she does for whom she wants to be. A young lady who tries to please her father and her brothers instead of trying to please herself. A young lady who hides shyly in the background, checking constantly to see who is watching, instead of shining in the foreground without a care in the world.

This is not the path to loving life. This is not the path to loving yourself.

Be yourself, Tabitha, no matter who is watching. Be the Tabitha I see when you are alone with Josephine and Bethanne, the lovely young lady who is confident and witty, the one who can make me smile just from hearing your laugh. And always remember, the beauty you have on the inside is ten times more luminous than the world could handle seeing on the outside. We’d all be blind in an instant.

Let us see you shine.

All my love,

Aunt Rosaline

By the time Tabitha finished reading the letter for what had to be the thousandth time, she had lost the battle with her tears.

Be yourself, Tabitha, no matter who is watching.

How had she forgotten that one, most important piece of advice her aunt had ever given her? Aunt Rosaline had always done as she wished, without a care in the world what anyone else thought of her for doing so. Some people ridiculed her for her behavior, it was true.

But the people who loved her? They loved her all the more for it.

Could such a thing possibly hold true for Tabitha? She thought about the times she allowed herself to be just as she was, without trying to force herself into someone’s expectations of who or what she ought to be. There weren’t many of them, that one thing was certain.

With Father, she did her best to behave as a dutiful daughter because he required such deportment—admittedly, she frequently failed—but she did make the attempt. With Owen and Toby, she traded barbs back and forth (more so with Toby, as he was her twin) because they wished her to be as sharp-tongued and sarcastic as they. In polite company she remained quiet, demure, and retiring, playing the part of the well-established spinster to irrevocable perfection and even wearing attire that was more sedate and shielded than fashionable, because that is what society deemed appropriate for her lowly station.

But were any of those accurate depictions of who she truly was? Not if she thought about the times spent alone with Jo and Bethanne, or with Aunt Rosaline. Not if one looked at the times Tabitha spent with her mother.

With each of those women, the most important women in her life, Tabitha was different. She was witty and kind, and she laughed freely. She could behave like a woman with confidence around them, with a certain assurance of her position amongst them, without worrying how they would react.

For that matter, she never thought about her body when she was with them—she never thought herself too bulky, too rounded, too...well, too different, as she often did with anyone else. She just fit with them. She belonged. Something she never felt with anyone else.

Was it because that is how they treated her, or more because that is how she treated herself in their presence? Could the manner in which she behaved truly affect others’ perceptions of her to the point that they could make such a drastic change?

There was one way to find out. Now, two weeks before her nine-and-twentieth birthday, Lady Tabitha Shelton was going to make a transformation.

She turned back to the first trunk and pulled everything back out of it. She wasn’t going anywhere. Other than perhaps to fetch Jo and head to the seamstress. Tabitha would need some new gowns—ones more appropriate to the impression she wanted to give.

The beau monde wouldn’t know what had come over her—or them. In particular, the gentlemen.

Lord Devonport above all.

Noah didn’t know how he’d allowed that conversation to become so unruly, so impossible to manage. Lady Tabitha had taken everything he wanted to say and twisted it to suit her purposes. Not that he could argue with her. He was a fortune hunter, though he hated the necessity of it. He hadn’t exactly lied to her, though now that he looked at the situation through her eyes, he could see that he was splitting hairs on that point. By omitting the full truth, he had lied.

He felt despicable. He felt like the lowest creature in all of England. He felt like the cur she had accused him of being.

He needed to get away, to get some fresh air and clear his head. Noah went out to Newcastle’s mews and asked the groom to prepare his horse for a ride instead of preparing his curricle to return home. Home wouldn’t help. Mother and Glastonbury were there, sorting out wedding preparations. If he went there, he’d be reminded all the more of his prospects for the future and his mood would sour further.

No, Noah needed to ride. He needed to feel the air flowing over his face, to experience the exhilaration of leaping through the air on the back of a powerful creature. There had been a sore lack of exhilaration in his life of late, apart from those moments when he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Lady Tabitha long enough to cool his lust. And since he couldn’t act upon it...

When Perceval was saddled and ready, Noah mounted him and took off for Rotten Row. The air in London was not as clear as the air in Haverthwaite, but it would have to do for now. Congested streets between Shelton Hall and Hyde Park made it impossible to give Perceval the liberty to gain any sort of speed. But as soon as they reached the park and trotted over to Rotten Row, Noah dug his heels in to his steed and they were off.

Gray clouds still covered the sky like pillows of goose down, lending a chill to the late-April air, made even cooler by the speed with which Perceval galloped. It felt good. Soothing. Noah gave the horse his head and they went faster still, until they were practically soaring past the other riders on the Row.

After several minutes, they’d seemingly left the rest of civilization behind. Noah drew back on the reins and slowed Perceval to a canter so they could both breathe.

Breathe. That’s what he needed to do. He must remember to breathe in Lady Tabitha’s presence, because her incensed fury quite literally stole that ability from him.

But he shouldn’t even be thinking about her any more. He ought to turn his attentions more fully to Lady Cressica (he shuddered) or Miss Jennings, or some other heiress who was not repulsed at the mere sight of him. Lady Tabitha had made it plentifully clear that she would have nothing to do with him. For that matter, she was adamant she would not marry at all.

Yet how could he give up his pursuit, when Oglethorpe and Eggerley had not given up on theirs?

“Red,” Jo breathed. “Never in my life would I have thought to see this from you, Tabby.” Jo stood halfway across the room from Tabitha and looked her appearance over from head to toe while Tabitha examined herself in the mirror.

The rich, bold red actually made her complexion glow, and her eyes glinted in the dim candlelight. Hester had fashioned a coiffure for her with ribbons and jewels threaded throughout her hair. She wore it down over her shoulders, so that it fell in waves and curls to provide a hint of modesty over her bosom which the single gold string of rubies could not. The gown certainly wasn’t doing anything as far as that was concerned. Tabitha worried that if she laughed too hard or bent over too far, her breasts would fall out to be seen by all and sundry.

But, no. Tabitha had decided not to worry. She would no longer hide herself or hope to blend in with the plants. She intended to be herself, no matter who was watching. Just as Aunt Rosaline would want.

Tabitha could only imagine how she would look beneath the sea of candles sure to be lighting the room tonight. Sinful was probably a good guess. She laughed at the surprise in Jo’s tone. “You helped me pick the fabric out, you ninny. And you selected the design from Madame Duchesne’s fashion plates.”

“I know. But you’re actually wearing it.” When Tabitha didn’t react to this statement, Jo added, “To a ball.”

“Yes, I am.” Tabitha gave her cousin a wicked smile. “Do you approve?”

“Heartily,” Jo said as a knock sounded at the door. She looked over to Tabitha. “Are you ready?” With Tabitha’s nod, Jo called out, “Come.”

“Claremont got tired of waiting for you two. He and Helen have gone ahead,” Toby said as he stepped into the room. He looked directly at Jo as he delivered his message. “Leith stayed behind to help me escort the two of you. We’re ready whenever you are.” Toby looked past Jo and saw Tabitha, and his jaw dropped. “Bloody hell, Tabitha, what are you wearing?”

Well, if she could get that sort of reaction out of her brother, she supposed the gown would do.

Jo winked at Tabitha over her shoulder. “Just a new frock,” she said. “It’s lovely, don’t you think?” Jo picked up her reticule and took Toby’s arm. “We’re ready to go now, Tobes. Shall we?”

“I’m not letting Tabitha leave the house looking like that,” Toby said. “Father would murder me.” Tabitha rolled her eyes skyward, took up her own reticule, and started out the door. “On second thought, I’m not letting you out of this room.”

“We’re already late,” Tabitha said. “And not just fashionably late, either. If I have to change, we won’t be there in time for the supper dance. Let’s go.” She didn’t wait for his agreement. It might never come. Tabitha walked through the door he’d left open and headed straight down the stairs without looking to see if Toby and Jo followed behind her. Jo would take care of it.

Tabitha knew the instant Lord Leith noticed her. His eyes widened and an appreciative smile brightened his dark features. Yes, her plan was definitely going to work out. “Good evening, my lord,” she called out as she descended the last few steps.

He lowered his head briefly in greeting. “Lady Tabitha. You look exquisite this evening.” He reached for her gloved hand as she arrived at the landing and placed a chaste kiss just above her fingers.

“She looks like a trollop,” Toby groused from behind her.

“She looks nothing of the sort,” Jo countered. She continued moving until she’d passed Tabitha and Lord Leith, dragging Toby along with her out the front door and toward the waiting carriage, calling out so they could hear her, “We should be off.”

“Indeed,” Lord Leith said. He made no attempt to contain his chuckle. “Shall we?” When Tabitha placed her hand upon his arm, he led her off in the wake of the others and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Don’t pay any mind to your brother. He just doesn’t know how to react.”

Tabitha gave him a sly grin. “I rarely mind him anyway, my lord.”

“Touché.”

They spent the carriage ride talking and laughing. Well, most of them did at least. Toby sat glowering in his corner, staring at Tabitha like she had grown two extra heads, or her skin had turned green and scaly and she was breathing fire.

By the time they arrived at the ball, everyone else had already taken to the floor. Tabitha scanned the gathered crowd. Christopher and Helen were near the dais, dancing alongside his brother Graham and some young miss. Bethanne’s younger sister Miranda was dancing with her husband, Baron Pickford, not far down the line from them. Near the other end, closest to where Tabitha stood, her eyes passed over Lord Oglethorpe with Miss Leatham. She didn’t focus on them overlong. Finally, just before the end of the line, Lord Devonport partnered Miss Jennings.

A twinge settled in Tabitha’s stomach at the sight, but she brushed it aside.

Lord Leith led her in a few steps further, and Tabitha felt the collective eye of the ton turn in her direction. Apart from the sound of the orchestra and the swish of the dancers’ garments, nary a sound could be heard in the entire ballroom as they all looked on her in wonder.

Her heartbeat increased, but she refused to cower. Tonight, she would not hide. No longer would she play the part of the wallflower, forever on the outskirts of life and looking in upon it. Tonight, she might be noticed. That was fine. Tabitha had every intention of dancing to her heart’s content and enjoying herself. She stood as straight and tall as she could, and allowed them to look their fill.

“Is your ankle still troubling you?” Lord Leith asked. “If not, would you oblige me with a dance?” His near-black eyes held the devilish twinkle usually reserved for her cousin.

“I would love to dance,” she replied.

Lord Leith winked at Jo and Toby, and then he placed Tabitha’s hand over his arm to sweep her off. “Well, never say I kept you waiting.” They joined the lines of dancers, only a few positions down from Lord Devonport and Miss Jennings.

When the figures of the dance brought them together for a moment, Lord Leith leaned close to her. “Your brother still looks fit to be tied. It seems every gentleman in the room has his attention trained upon you, and he doesn’t quite know how to handle it.”

“I thought Toby wanted to see me married off,” Tabitha said. “Shouldn’t he be pleased that I’m finally commanding attention?”

“Indeed, he should.”

They were separated again, and moved in and out between the dancers on either side of them. In one pass, Lord Devonport’s probing blue eyes caught hers and held. Tabitha smiled in return—sly and beguiling, or so she hoped. She wanted him to see what he had lost. What he could never have. His gaze pierced her, and she nearly lost her footing from the penetrating need she found in them. Then she turned away from him and back to Lord Leith.

“Devonport can’t take his eyes off you,” he commented. “Nor, it seems, can almost any man present.”

“I suppose I shall be the subject of drawing room conversation tomorrow.”

Lord Leith laughed, a rich, deep sound. “Tomorrow. Next week. Perhaps most of a month. The shade of your gown alone is enough to keep them talking for days.”

Oh, lud. “Do you really think it will go on so long?” No, it didn’t matter. Tabitha was no shrinking wallflower any more. Never again. If they wanted to talk about her, let them talk.

“That depends,” Lord Leith said, but he did not elaborate in time. The dance separated them again, and she twirled about, drawing near Lord Devonport.

His eyes pierced her with their ardor, the blue of them turning the color and heat of intense flame. Tabitha’s heart felt like it had leapt to somewhere in the vicinity of her chin and tingles coursed over her skin everywhere his scrutiny traveled. And travel it did. His eyes roved over her gown, from top to bottom, examining every minute detail. They landed on the bodice of her gown and Tabitha felt her breathing increase. When finally he raised his gaze and met her own, she thought she might grow overheated from his torrid stare.

“Are you well?” Lord Leith asked as they drew together again. “Your skin seems flushed.”

“Flushed?” Hotter than the sun might be more apt. “No, I’m quite all right.”

He winked at her. “Very well. It seems our set has come to a close.” Had it really? Already? Tabitha hadn’t noticed. “Shall I return you to your brother, or would you prefer to go to Miss Faulkner?”

Tabitha didn’t have a chance to answer. Three other gentlemen acquaintances had flocked to her side, each entreating her for a dance. She granted Lord Villiers the next set, Lord Fairweather the set after that, and Lord Kinloss requested her hand for the first waltz. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d danced four sets in a single night.

Once she had each of them marked on her dance card, Lord Villiers led her back out to the floor to begin their set...just in the nick of time, too, since Lord Devonport had deposited Miss Jennings at her mother’s side and was making his way over to her. She didn’t know his purpose, but it didn’t matter. He would have to wait.

Tabitha had gentlemen to dance with.

Torture. Sheer and utter torture. That was what Lady Tabitha was putting Noah through tonight.

Her gown was molten fire—the most delectable and scandalous shade of red he’d seen an unmarried, genteel woman wear in all his thirty-one years. For the first time since he’d known her, she wore the latest trend in fashion, a gown cut low enough he’d wager one could see straight down to her toes if one were tall enough and looked down. If the generous bosom virtually pouring out of the top weren’t enough, a strand of rubies strung its way down into the cleft between her breasts, pulling at his eyes as though they weren’t already drawn there. Noah wanted to trace his tongue there, too, to taste the sweetness of her skin. It was the only time in his life he could ever recall being jealous of a piece of jewelry.

By Jove, he’d been hard since the moment he saw her dancing with Leith, and there seemed little hope for relief.

Every time he saw her, he wanted her more. During one set, Fairweather took her to the refreshment table and she looked up at him with a sultry laugh upon her lips and her silver eyes sparkling in the gentle glow of candlelight, twirling one of the soft, brown curls about her finger next to her bosom.

Later, when she waltzed with Kinloss, she looked relaxed in his arms to the point of moving her body closer to the man than she had with Noah a mere two weeks prior. Kinloss’s hand at Lady Tabitha’s waist squeezed—just a trifle—and Noah choked down a groan.

“It’s the supper dance,” Shelton said, coming up behind him. “Kinloss will be the one to take her in.” He clapped Noah on the shoulder and looked at him questioningly. “So? When is your set with her?”

“I haven’t been able to ask her yet. Every time one dance partner finishes with her, she’s surrounded by a dozen more, all clamoring for her attention.” It was killing him. Slowly. Painfully.

Shelton cursed beneath his breath, crossing his arms over his chest and glowering in his sister’s direction. “It’s that damned gown. She’s never dressed like that before. I don’t know what’s come over her.”

Whatever had come over her, Noah wouldn’t complain—apart from the ever-present stiffness currently begging for attention inside his trousers. “I think there is more at play than just her gown. It’s her entire deportment. She’s more animated than I have ever seen her in public.”

Tabitha was virtually glowing from some sort of inner poise, illuminating everyone and everything around her in the process. With this sort of bearing, it was no wonder that numerous men were drawn to her. She shone like the North Star for a sailor, pointing him home.

“Yes,” Shelton replied. He shuffled his feet. “Well. I suppose that could be. You’d be a better judge of that than me, I’m afraid.”

“You can’t bother to take notice of something such as that in your own sister?”

“That’s exactly the problem. She’s my sister.” Shelton looked over to the dais where the orchestra had signaled the impending end of the dance. “I don’t particularly care for having gentlemen looking at her the way they are tonight.” Noah raised a brow. Shelton didn’t seem to mind his lust-filled looks at Lady Tabitha. “You’re different. You’re already family. I don’t feel as hostile toward you in general. I already know your motives.”

“As does she. Lady Tabitha is not as receptive as you are to the reason for my attention. Or at least one of my reasons.”

The musicians played the last strains of the waltz, and the dancers cleared the floor to move in to the dining room for supper. Shelton put out a hand to stop Noah as he made to follow them. “You need to make her understand the rest of your reasons. We can all see what you feel for her. What she feels for you. It’s obvious to everyone around you even if it isn’t to the pair of you.”

Noah felt ready to rip out his hair in frustration. “How can I do that if I can’t even pull her aside to speak with her for a moment?”

Shelton’s shrewd eyes followed his sister and Kinloss as they slipped from the room. “After supper. I’ll come up with a plan to send her off on her own. Watch for it. And follow.”

Just what Noah needed: yet another moment where Lady Tabitha’s brother played a hand in things. She would recognize her brother’s participation in an instant. But desperate times and all that. Noah nodded and then followed the congregating throng.

Tabitha could hardly believe how auspiciously her plan had worked out. She had already danced four sets tonight, and her dance card for the rest of the evening was nearly full. And not a single one of these gentlemen were fortune hunters. They all talked and laughed with her, and had seemed genuinely interested in her during their interactions. Could it have been this easy all along?

Lord Kinloss pulled out her chair to assist her up after supper. “I had a lovely time, Lady Tabitha. Am I too late to secure another dance with you this evening? I fear I might have to wait until the next ball.”

A second dance? Surely he was jesting. But the expression she found in his warm, brown eyes, square jaw, and thin lips was sincere. “I believe I still have one open, my lord.” Tabitha reached for the card hanging from her wrist, but Toby slipped in behind her and startled her before she could fully sort it out.

“My apologies, Kinloss,” he said, “but I’m afraid I must kidnap my sister for a moment. Do excuse us.” He started to pull her away before she could argue with him.

“Of course, Shelton,” Lord Kinloss replied. “I look forward to seeing you again, Lady Tabitha.” He dropped into a bow before coming up with a sleek smile.

Tabitha could do no more than dip her head briefly. “My lord,” she said, then turned her attention to her brother. “What in God’s name has gotten into you?” she whispered forcefully. “This is ridiculous.”

“You ought to thank me. Perhaps you will later, when you realize I’ve rescued you from sudden calamity.”

“I hardly think accepting a second dance with a gentleman such as Lord Kinloss could qualify as calamity,” Tabitha huffed. Her brother tugged even more forcefully on her arm, pulling her away from the crush and into a secluded hallway. She’d had enough of his high-handed manner of late. With a heave, she pulled her arm free from his grip. “Enough!”

Toby faced her and frowned. “The calamity to which I referred has nothing to do with Kinloss, sister dear. It has everything to do with a rip in the back of your gown. I saw it when you stood, and thought to assist you before anyone else noticed.”

“Oh,” was all she could manage. Would Toby truly seek to assist her in such a way? Usually he would delight in her looming downfall, or so she had thought.

“Oh, indeed. I believe you’ll find the ladies’ retiring room if you continue along this hall and turn right at the end. I’ll find Jo and send her to help you.”

Damn and blast, she hated having to thank her twin for anything. He was just so smug about everything. But he likely had saved her from utter disaster. “Thank you,” she finally said, though it pained her somewhat to do so.

“You’re welcome. Now hurry along.” Toby turned and headed down the hallway back toward where they had come from.

But she had promised Lord Brackly the next set. He would surely be looking for her. “Toby,” Tabitha called out, and he stopped. “Will you please find Lord Brackly, too?”

“Your next dance partner?” he drawled. Why did he have to sound so surly about it? She thought he was trying to marry her off. “I’ll let him know you’ve had a minor emergency, but nothing he should worry himself about.” Then he was off again, loping away with long strides.

Tabitha started down the long hallway again, heading in the direction Toby had indicated for her. She was halfway to the end when the rushed clopping of a man’s heavy boots against the marble floors echoed behind her. Why was Toby coming back so soon? She turned to ask him just that as the sound nearly reached her, but it wasn’t Toby.

Lord Devonport closed the distance between them until he stood close enough she could feel the heat of his body and the scent of his cologne tickled her nose. His breath fanned over her face, brushing back the curls that surrounded her. His eyes had taken on that fiery radiance again, blazing down upon her in the faint light of the torchieres that lined the hall. The ever-present smile he always seemed to wear was gone, supplanted by a resolute set to his mouth that made his smooth-shaven jaw seem stronger, more unyielding. His boyish look remained, but something wilder, less gentle, had taken its place.

He looked like a man unleashed. She had seen such a look in a man’s eyes before. But not in many years. She never thought to see it again.

Against her will, Tabitha shivered, even as an intense warmth spread through her body, starting with her stomach and moving outward. Downward, to the secret places of her womanhood. Upward, making her breasts feel full and taut and needy. All just from a look. “May I help you, my lord?” Strangled. Her voice sounded strangled even to her own ears. Blast, why could he always do that to her?

He couldn’t have answered her question even if he had wanted to. Noah stood there, staring at Lady Tabitha as if she were a fountain and he a man dying of thirst. He wanted to drink from her. He wanted to taste her sweetness and bask in her radiance.

He wanted to kiss her. Needed to.

There seemed no way to stop himself, not when she looked up at him with eyes harboring the power of a storm cloud deep within their depths and luscious lips quivering beneath his gaze. Not when she smelled like warm peaches and woman, with just a hint of spice. Not when the heat of her body pulled him closer, threatening to overwhelm him and destroy any ability to think he once owned.

She took in a sharp breath of air. Her overfilled lungs pushed her bosom up until it almost met his chest as he lowered his head. And then his lips were on hers, and hers yielded to him, and he was lost.

Her lips were soft and full and moist. Noah started out trying to be tender with her, but she kissed him back and he couldn’t contain his fervor. He fisted one hand in the curls at the nape of her neck and placed the other at her waist, pulling her closer until nothing remained between them aside from their clothing. Her breasts, full and firm, pressed into his ribs, and it took everything he had within him not to tear back the bodice of her gown and bury his face in the lush valley between them.

She whimpered softly and took hold of his lapels with both hands, pulling herself higher, closer, rising up to the tips of her toes to meet him. That was all the invitation he needed. Noah tilted her head to the side and parted her lips with his tongue, and he delved into the enthralling moist heat she offered.

Lady Tabitha did not kiss like a maiden; there no hesitancy, no bungling indecision or tenuous pecking. She joined his tongue with her own, stroking with an enthusiasm that sent a shock straight between his legs. His erection was pressing into her stomach—surely she felt him pulsating against her.

Noah’s hands moved as if of their own accord, sliding down her sleek arms and up the silky fabric covering her sides. His thumbs rested just below her breasts for a moment before he slipped them higher until he could cup her breasts in his palms. The tips hardened beneath his touch; she moaned into his mouth when he squeezed gently. He left her mouth to trail kisses along the hollow of her cheeks, down the incline of her neck, along the length of her collarbone.

Her breaths came in shallow, ragged surges as he skimmed his tongue to the hollow between her breasts. “Oh. Oh, my,” she said on a sigh. Noah kneaded the flesh in his hands through the slippery silk fabric. Then suddenly she jolted to attention, pulling away from him and leaving him bereft. “Stop. Stop that immediately,” she hissed. Her eyes grew wide, and she jerked her head to the side with a finger held to her lips.

Footsteps clicked and echoed in the vast, empty hall coming from the direction she had indicated. Noah backed away and straightened his lapels. His cravat had somehow come loose, but there was no chance he could correct that without his valet’s assistance. Lady Tabitha smoothed her hands over her gown and fussed with her hair—a task he doubted her ability to correct without a maid’s assistance. He’d done significant damage to her coiffure.

The footsteps came to a halt, but there was still no sign of anyone else in the hallway with them. Noah kept as still as he could, so as not to make any undue sound. He wanted to marry Lady Tabitha, certainly. But he had no intention of trapping her into a marriage or forcing her hand. He wanted her to agree to it. He wanted her to want it. After experiencing the degree of ardor with which she returned his kiss, he finally thought she might. After a few moments, the steps sounded again, heading back in the opposite direction. Noah released the breath he had held pent in his chest.

“You should go,” Lady Tabitha said. She took another step back, until she was stopped by the wall. The flickering light from a torchiere overhead glinted against eyes that were nearly black, and the sheen covering her rapidly rising and falling bosom shimmered like the lake outside his suite of rooms in Haverthwaite at night. “Now. Before someone else comes upon us.”

“But that affected you as much as it affected me. I’ve compromised you. I can’t just leave you—”

She shoved him back. “I don’t have the patience for your damned chivalry. Go.” She turned and headed in the opposite direction.

Noah couldn’t let her go. “Wait,” he called out. She came to a stop but didn’t turn. “We need to talk about this. Will you dance with me tonight?”

Shaking her head, Lady Tabitha said softly, “I can’t. My dance card is full.”

He had been afraid of that. “Can I call on you tomorrow then?”

She nodded and then hurried on her way. At least she had agreed to that. Now he just had to somehow relieve the nuisance in his pants.

Try as she might, Tabitha could not expunge that blasted kiss from her mind. As fate would have it, the memory of the kiss remained at the forefront of her mind throughout the entire afternoon the day after the ball, despite the fact that her drawing room was filled with suitors and their flowery offerings.

It didn’t help matters any that Lord Devonport joined these very same suitors with an armful of flowers, himself.

Nor did the fact that he continued to look on her with doleful eyes as she offered equal attention to each of the gentlemen present.

Lords Villiers, Fairweather, and Brackly were all in attendance. In his absence, Lord Kinloss had sent a bouquet and a note informing her of his deep lament that he could not call upon her in person today, but hoped to do so later in the week.

Lord Devonport’s presence in itself was a point of contention within her mind, despite the fact that she’d agreed to allow his visit. She had requested he cease his pursuit before that, yet clearly he had no intention of doing so.

Tabitha was certain that, yet again, Toby had instigated their interaction last night. After she’d left Lord Devonport in the hall and found the retiring room, she discovered there was no tear in her gown at all. Nothing was amiss, save her mussed coiffure and her missing judgment. After fixing her hair and waiting there for several moments for Jo’s arrival, she knew she’d been tricked. Jo wasn’t coming.

Toby had sent her off on her own and then sent Lord Devonport after her. She wouldn’t be surprised if it had been Toby’s footsteps they’d heard in the hall, coming to be sure that Lord Devonport had caught her.

It was enough to drive a lady to distraction.

So much activity had come and gone through the front doors of Shelton Hall that even Father had stopped in to the drawing room for a moment. At that time, four gentlemen suitors surrounded Tabitha alongside so many flowers she thought she might find her death from sneezing. Owen and Toby stood watch over the proceedings from near the window, talking in hushed tones (with Toby glowering over at all the men in the room—all of them aside from Lord Devonport, at least). Elaine fussed about, making sure all the flowers were in vases and all the gentlemen had everything they could wish for (most especially her brother).

Father could not conceal his glee; the smile upon his face brightened his graying features in a manner Tabitha had not seen since before her mother had died, stretching all the way to his eyes and beyond.

For that, at least, she was glad. For herself, however...well, she was assuredly a trifle bit incredulous. Only a week ago, she’d been stunned by having two callers. Now she didn’t know what to do with them all. If not for Elaine’s calming presence, Tabitha wasn’t certain what she would have done.

But she had to remember, while this might not have been the outcome she had expected, her experiment of the previous night had proven successful. Tabitha had been herself. She’d behaved as she would if she were alone with her two closest cousins, instead of surrounded by half the ton. Now she would simply have to continue along that path and see what would happen.

“More tea, Lord Villiers?” Elaine asked sweetly. He nodded and held out his cup. Her intense blue eyes—the same shade of eyes she shared with her brother—sparkled as she leaned over to pour, then moved on to the next gentleman, clearing Tabitha’s line of sight to Lord Devonport, himself.

His eyes held a glimmer, too, but they’d taken on that darker, more intense shade she’d seen before. As recently as last night, as a matter of fact. A tingle of awareness shot up her spine when he lifted the corners of his mouth in a knowing smile.

Tabitha turned to Lord Brackly. “Your brother has once again been called to his duties with the Life Guards, you say?” His eyes widened and he swallowed a sip of his steaming tea rather too hastily. He coughed violently and she thought he must have scalded his tongue. “Does he think battle with France is imminent, as General Lord Wellington seems to believe?”

“I could not say what my brother thinks, Lady Tabitha,” Lord Brackly replied. “Tell me, have you seen the Elgin marbles?”

The abrupt change of subject bowled her over. She fought to school her features. “No, I’ve not had that pleasure.” The gentlemen surrounding her began to murmur amongst themselves about the marbles and their grace and beauty, debating their level of deterioration and the legality of their presence in England. All of the gentlemen except Lord Devonport, at least.

“I think,” he said above the general hubbub, looking straight at Tabitha, “Wellington is as good a judge of what Old Boney will do as anyone in the world right now. He’s been fighting the man as long as anyone. And now that the Congress of Vienna has declared Bonaparte an outlaw, he will not go quietly. Frankly, the idea that they could keep him locked up on Elba seems a bit outlandish to me, but no one asked for my input on that particular score.”

Lords Brackly, Villiers, and Fairweather looked over at Lord Devonport as if he’d grown three heads during the course of his speech.

“Would you say then, my lord,” Tabitha asked, “that the call for our men to return to their posts is a sign of looming battle?”

Lord Villiers cleared his throat. “I first saw the friezes three years ago, myself,” he said loud enough that the entire room would hear every word.

“Yes, I would,” Lord Devonport said above Villiers’s attempt to turn the subject again, ignoring the man’s scandalized glare. He stood, and his voice carried throughout the room even better than when he was seated. His standing also served to call Tabitha’s attention to the taut fabric of his breeches over his thighs, and how tightly they hugged to him. Good Lord. She needed to stop looking at him and thinking about him entirely. “Before the year is out, I’m sure. Indeed, I would expect it within a few months’ time at the latest.”

“Lord Devonport!” Lord Fairweather cut in. “I hardly think battles and war are appropriate conversational subjects at the moment. There are ladies present, sir.”

“I’m quite aware of that fact, Fairweather,” Lord Devonport said. He glowered in the viscount’s direction, then spread his gaze to Tabitha’s other callers. “In case you weren’t aware, Lady Raynesford happens to be my sister, so I know quite well that she is hardly one to be surprised or offended by discussion of the events taking place in the world. And as my sister has been married to Lady Tabitha’s brother for several years now, I happen to know that Lady Tabitha is highly intelligent and informed, and enjoys discussing more than just art, weather, fashions, and the latest ballroom scandals. Indeed, discussing sculptures, several of which are of nude men, such as you three have been, might be more invasive to these ladies’ tender sensibilities, I should think.”

Almost despite herself, Tabitha felt a flutter of longing flicker through her veins. This, more than anything, made Lord Devonport appealing to her. His insistence on treating her as a clever and sensible woman, and not as a brainless twit shouldn’t make him appear more handsome, should it? Blast it all, why did he have this effect upon her? She wanted to make him crazy with need for her, not the other way around. She didn’t want him to have such power over her emotions as this.

Owen nodded from his position near the window. “Well said, Devonport.”

Well said, indeed. Tabitha inclined her head in Lord Devonport’s direction and he gave a small nod. The Lords Fairweather, Villiers, and Brackly each looked sufficiently admonished, but eventually began to speak again. The conversation turned from the wars to an impending issue facing the House of Lords and other subjects of weight, then eventually to theater and opera and other subjects of lighter fare.

Tabitha enjoyed herself immensely. She loved being able to have an intelligent conversation with a man (or with several, as the case may be), without having to resort to the fluff that was generally accepted for ladies.

Despite her fears to the contrary, she even reveled in the fact that all of these gentlemen had called upon her and were giving her their undivided attention. She’d expected it to be uncomfortable, to be disconcerting. Instead, it was invigorating.

But no matter how hard she tried to make it so, nothing could make her wish for any of them to kiss her the way Lord Devonport had done last night. Despite the fact that they all focused solely on her, she couldn’t imagine any of them touching her, placing their hands upon her body—her breasts—making her want it to continue the way she had with Lord Devonport. She couldn’t envision a time when anything Lord Villiers, Lord Brackly, or Lord Fairweather could do would make liquid heat flood to her intimate places the way a single heated look from Lord Devonport seemed to do even as he sat across the room from her.

Slowly, the gentlemen began to take their leave. First Lord Fairweather left, begging Tabitha’s permission to take her for a promenade through Hyde Park. A while later, Lord Brackly took his leave with Tabitha’s permission to call upon her again. When Lord Villiers finally stood to go, he requested the opportunity to take her to Gunter’s for an ice later in the week, to which she agreed.

Finally, only Lord Devonport and her family remained. He had not removed his gaze from her the entire afternoon. After Lord Villiers departed, Toby excused himself, followed soon behind by Owen and Elaine, all claiming they had to ready themselves for the evening’s entertainments.

Suddenly, Tabitha found it difficult to look up at Lord Devonport. For that matter, she found it next to impossible to breathe. She fiddled with her necklace for lack of anything better to do with her hands. She had to do something with them, or she feared she might rush across the room and touch him in inappropriate ways, similar to how he touched her last night.

Oh, dear. She shouldn’t have thought about that again. Not while they were alone together. Tabitha felt heat rise up the back of her neck as it always did. She needed to get away from him. She needed him to leave.

If that didn’t happen soon, she couldn’t be held accountable for her actions, no matter how absurd they might be.

By Jove, how he loved to watch her. He’d give every last coin he possessed to discover what had just passed through her mind and caused the blush to creep up the long column of her neck before sprawling over her cheeks. Even the bits of her bosom displayed over the top of her gown had turned a lovely flushed shade. He wanted to see the rest of her, to discover where else she might have changed to pink.

And today it was a locket at her neck that she handled when her nerves took over. Her fingers had swept over her chest to twiddle with it so many times while her other suitors were there, Noah thought he might have a apoplectic fit if she didn’t stop soon.

“You seem to be the lady of the hour, all of a sudden,” Noah finally said, breaking through the crackling silence between them. Jealousy tinged his tone, despite his best efforts to avoid just such an occurrence.

“I suppose I am,” she replied dispassionately. The timbre of her voice came far from matching her behavior. She must still think she could trick him into believing she had no feelings for him. Only a fool could believe such a thing, after her response to his kiss last night. “Is that a problem?” Finally, she raised her eyes to challenge his.

“No,” he replied. The only problem he could see was that he wanted to rip each of their heads from their bodies every time they were in her presence, particularly now that she had taken to wearing gowns that enhanced her curves as the other ladies tended to do. Noah mentally shook himself. He had to concentrate. They needed to have this conversation, today, and not let it be pushed aside yet again. “Lady Tabitha—”

“Why did you kiss me last night?” she interrupted. “I told you I would have nothing to do with you, yet you ignored my wishes and kissed me. Why?”

At least she wanted to talk about what he wanted to talk about. He’d prefer a reprise of the event to talking, but first things first. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t take my eyes from you the entire evening, nor, it seems, am I capable of that feat today. I—”

“You still need my dowry, do you not?” she interrupted. He really wished she would stop doing that. It was quite as vexing as her penchant for answering his questions with more questions of her own. “That is the reason for your continued pursuit, the reason you saw fit to trap me in the hall and kiss me. You’re trying to corner me into marriage. To make it where society will deem me ruined unless I save myself by marrying you.”

“No, that’s not—”

“You no longer have need for my fortune? Pray forgive me. I must not have heard the cheerful tidings of your unexpected windfall.”

“Enough.” No force lay behind Noah’s words, but a quiet authority. “I am not one of your brothers. I’m not a man whom you can talk over and insult at will, with no repercussions. Allow me my opportunity to speak, and when I finish you may ask me any question you so desire. My only stipulation is that you must grant me the opportunity to provide a complete answer without interruption.”

Lady Tabitha looked disconsolate. “I apologize, my lord. Go on.”

Noah sighed. Where to start? “You’re right that I must marry for financial reasons. I do not enjoy the lot I’ve been cast, and I am loath to marry for anything but love, but I’ve no choice if I’m to remain out of the poorhouse.” She looked ready to interrupt him again, so Noah held up a hand to stay her. “When the Season began, your brother suggested you might meet both of my needs, as you’re a lady with whom I’ve had a friendship of sorts over the past many years, and your dowry would more than solve my pecuniary woes. He was right, of course. You could meet both my needs. No, not could. You do meet both of my needs, and then some. I cannot deny that the initial reason I began to pay you court is that your dowry is enticing.”

She winced, but remained silent.

Noah rushed on, before she could think too long on that statement. “But your dowry is not nearly as alluring to me as you are. If I only wanted money, if any heiress would do, I would have offered for Lady Cressica or Miss Jennings, or any number of other young ladies with a hefty portion to take into her marriage. They hold no interest for me, though. When I am in their presence, I find myself thinking of you. Wishing they were you. And any time you’re in the same room when I am with one of them, I can’t fathom tearing my eyes from you. It’s a wonder they haven’t already sent me along on my way, in the same manner you’ve attempted to do.”

Dragging a hand through his hair, Noah let out a ragged sigh. He stood and paced between the opposing sofas on which they sat.

“Have you finished?” Lady Tabitha asked after he’d been silent a moment.

“No. No, I’m not finished.”

Without a thought to what he was doing, Noah sat beside her. His thigh brushed against hers. She gasped at the contact, but he stifled her protest with another kiss.

He was gentler this time, coaxing her to respond as she had done before. Cupping both sides of her face in his hands, he urged her to change the angle of her head so he could deepen the kiss. She opened to him and he buried his tongue in her sweetness. A small hum sounded deep in her throat, sending wave upon wave crashing through his veins straight to his already firm erection.

“My lady, we must begin preparations for—Oh! Oh, my gracious heavens.”

Noah extricated himself from Lady Tabitha and leapt to the opposite end of the sofa at the entrance of her maid. Hester stood just inside the doorway with a hand covering her eyes while she peeked through her fingers at them. He shouldn’t have done that. He should have realized they were in her home, and the door to the drawing room had been left open, and that anyone could have walked in at any moment. Her brothers. Her father.

Lady Tabitha’s colored cheeks combined with her lips being lusciously swollen from his kisses were nearly his undoing. Yet she somehow kept her composure as she addressed her lady’s maid. “I’ll be up in a few moments to ready for this evening, Hester. Lord Devonport was just leaving.”

He was? He had no recollection of saying so.

Still, the maid curtseyed in their general direction without looking up, a tremendous reddening giving blemish to her complexion as well.

“And Hester?” Lady Tabitha called out as the maid began to scurry away. “You are not to breathe a word of this to anyone. Understood?”

The mousy maid nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Of course.” Then she dashed off before she could be stopped again.

“Well,” Lady Tabitha said, rising and turning to him, although not meeting his eyes. He stood as well, and she smoothed her hands over her skirts. “You should be off then. If you had finished, of course. You have finished, haven’t you?”

“Almost,” he said. She did look up at that, backing away and holding her hands before her as though to ward him off. The stormy depths of her eyes flashed, like a vein of lightning streaking through their infinite vastness. “I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself this time.” Somehow. Still she did not lower her guard, enforcing a good distance between their two persons. Noah dragged a hand through his hair on a sigh. “I merely wanted to know if you had any questions for me. I promised to answer your questions.”

“Only one,” she said. She lowered her hands to her sides.

“Go on,” he said when she didn’t continue. “Ask away. I’ll tell you anything.”

“Why in God’s name should I believe you want me, when no man has ever shown himself to want anything but my dowry, and when you’ve already proven yourself a liar?” Lady Tabitha’s eyes swam in unshed tears. He wanted to brush them away, to cover her eyes in kisses until she had cried so much she couldn’t cry any more. But she would not allow him such liberties, he was sure.

He mustn’t muck this up. Noah took his time in answering her, making certain he said precisely what he meant to say. “You should believe I want you because I can’t stop looking at you. You should believe I want you because when I’m in your presence, and most of the time when I’m not, my need for you is all-consuming—a need which I know you felt last night.” She went a furious shade of red at this, confirming his assertion. “You could feel the same need right this very moment if you should need further evidence. Would you like proof?”

She shook her head and turned her head away to stare desperately at a wing chair.

“No? You’re certain?”

“That will not be necessary, my lord,” Lady Tabitha whispered.

“Well, do not claim I did not offer substantiation. As to the other gentlemen you asked about, I cannot fathom why there has not been a flood of callers for you since your debut. Clearly, they do not see in you what I see. Or at least they did not until last night. Even then, I wonder how many of them saw your true beauty, that which is inside, and not just your outer beauty. They only wanted you after you put yourself forward. Perhaps, after today, they will see you for the paragon you are.”

Noah took a small step forward. She did not back away, so he closed the distance between then and took her gloved hands into his own. The shock of heat threatened to derail him. “As to my lying—I do not deny I neglected to apprise you of my monetary circumstances and in that way lied to you. While I feared you would react just as you have done, there can be no real justification for my negligence. As of now, you know the whole truth. From this point on in our relationship, should you agree to continue with it, I promise to be more forthcoming with such information.”

“Very well,” Lady Tabitha said. “You’ve answered my question. Good afternoon to you, Lord Devonport.” She tried to disentangle her hands from his grip, but he held firm.

“Not yet. I need to know where we stand.”

The corners of her lips turned down in the most delicious pout. “You may court me, along with my other suitors.”

Noah supposed that would have to do for the moment. Garnering her trust again might require all of his efforts. He nodded. “I plan to call on you every day. I’ll win your affection, if it kills me.” He lifted one of her hands to his mouth and kissed her fingertips. “Until this evening, then.”

Tabitha sat in one of the three carriages filled with ladies heading toward Bond Street. Well, filled with ladies and Christopher. When Jo had planned this ladies’ outing, she and Helen had conspired to drag Christopher along, so that someone could be responsible for keeping up with all of their purchases.

The poor dear had assumed only Jo, Helen, and Tabitha would be shopping. Jo had purposefully left him in the dark that she had organized an outing for seemingly half the ladies of the ton. Indeed, when he had come down the stairs of his townhouse and discovered his parlor overflowing with frills and lace, he stopped dead in his tracks to stare for a moment.

“I noticed you’d only ordered one carriage,” Jo had called to him out over the din, “so I took it upon myself to ask Uncle Drake and Uncle Jasper if we could borrow theirs as well. I hope you don’t mind.”

Christopher had not responded; he was too busy scanning the throng of females filling his parlor, in an apparent effort to decipher just how many ladies he would be responsible for escorting on a shopping excursion that afternoon.

When they’d piled into the conveyances, Tabitha took his arm with a chuckle and led him to the one she intended to ride in. At least she could provide a calming influence for him, amidst the miles of ribbons and lace and the host of hats and bonnets he was bound to be holding before the afternoon came to a close.

So now, as the carriage rolled on its way, she sat with Christopher and Helen sharing a bench with her, and the Countess of St. Benedict and Baroness Uppington (complete with a lorgnette hanging about her neck) seated on the opposite bench.

“Your husband is quite a prize, Lady Claremont,” Lady St. Benedict said, leaning across to grasp Helen’s hand. She was older than Tabitha by a few years, but not too many, yet her face wore a fair few creases that had not yet made their appearance in Tabitha’s. “I daresay St. Benedict would rather tackle a roomful of babies in dirty nappies than accompany such a sizeable group of ladies as they shop.”

Helen smiled. “Claremont likely would not have done, if his sister had informed him more baldly what he was agreeing to do.”

Christopher grunted, garnering a peal of laughter from Lady St. Benedict and Lady Uppington.

Tabitha patted the back of Christopher’s hand consolingly. “My cousin knows ways of getting what she wants where her brothers are concerned. She’s had long years of practice.” Tabitha would know. They’d perfected their techniques together.

Lady Uppington clucked her tongue. “I’ll have to ask for Miss Faulkner’s advice, then. I can hardly get Uppington to take me out for an afternoon, let alone an entire group of ladies.” She turned a thoughtful eye on Christopher, then raised her lorgnette to him. “Unless, of course, you would care to offer your assistance in that area, Lord Claremont.”

The carriage slowed to a stop, saving Christopher the necessity of answering. Before the driver could come around to open the door, Christopher clambered down himself and set out the steps. He assisted each of the ladies out in turn.

Tabitha winked at him as she took his hand and descended. “I promise not to spend all of my pin money in a single day. I doubt I’ll purchase more than a single ribbon, which I can surely carry on my own.”

“Any chance you can convince the rest to follow suit?” Christopher’s look of sheer terror was amusing, to say the least.

“Don’t count on it, but I’ll do what I can.”

Lady St. Benedict beckoned to her from up ahead. “Lady Tabitha! Come and walk with me. I want to learn who has fashioned such exquisite new gowns for you.”

With an apologetic shrug of her shoulders in Christopher’s direction, Tabitha hurried along and hooked her arm in Lady St. Benedict’s. “Jo and I decided to use Madame Duchesne for all of our gowns this Season,” she said conspiratorially. “We can stop in her shop this afternoon if you’d like. I’d be glad to introduce you.”

She spent the next hour walking from shop to shop with Lady St. Benedict, discussing everything from Madame Duchesne’s skills as a modiste, to the likelihood of Christopher ever agreeing to accompany his sister on a similar excursion again. Lady St. Benedict made a purchase in nearly every shop they entered. She deposited several of her purchases with Tabitha’s cousin, beleaguered as he may be, and tugged Tabitha along with her to the next destination.

As they stepped out of Martinson’s jewelry store, Lady St. Benedict toting two new packages, they almost walked directly into Lord Devonport. He put out a hand and caught Tabitha’s elbow before she lost her balance. A heated look passed through his eyes so briefly, she wondered if she’d imagined it.

“My apologies,” he said. When Lady St. Benedict fumbled with the packages in her hands as she righted herself, Lord Devonport reached for them. “May I carry these for you, my lady?”

“Oh, yes, that would be lovely,” the countess said and deposited her parcels in his waiting arms. She glanced over to where Christopher stood with the drivers beside the carriages, and Tabitha’s eyes followed her direction. One carriage was already half-full with various bundles and boxes, and he was struggling to unload the contents of his arms. The drivers also held a number of purchases, awaiting their turn to be packed away. “I’m afraid Lord Claremont might be a bit overburdened.”

Lord Devonport chuckled. “He’ll probably think twice before agreeing to such an outing again anytime soon.” Turning his attention to Tabitha, he asked, “And is there anything I can carry for you, Lady Tabitha?” He nearly caressed her with his eyes.

“She’s yet to lay out a farthing of her pin money today,” Lady St. Benedict said before Tabitha could answer for herself. “I’ve done my best to make up for her lack of spending. And what brings you to Bond Street this afternoon?”

“The lady I intended to call upon was not at home today,” he answered, passing an ever-so-brief glance in Tabitha’s direction before returning his attention to Lady St. Benedict, “so I thought to visit my tailor. I need a new coat for my mother’s wedding next week.”

The past two evenings, he’d been at the same entertainments Tabitha had attended. He had paid her a visit at Shelton Hall yesterday afternoon as well, acting the perfect gentleman during the half-hour affair. Tabitha held no doubt that she was the lady to whom he referred.

Before he had taken his leave, he had invited her to be his especial guest at his mother’s wedding. She’d yet to respond. Allowing him to pay her court was one thing; attending a family wedding, on his arm, was something else entirely. In the eyes of the beau monde, it would be tantamount to announcing their betrothal.

“Have you found nothing to your liking?” When he faced Tabitha again, he cocked a brow. “No bonnets or fabrics? Nothing new to wear when you come to the wedding?”

Lady St. Benedict widened her eyes, and then narrowed them shrewdly, looking between Tabitha and Lord Devonport. Oh, good gracious. The countess intended to leave them alone. Tabitha wasn’t sure she wanted that. Or perhaps she just wanted it more than she wished she did. Lady St. Benedict glanced back over her shoulder, where Jo was emerging from a shop on the arms of Lady Sophia Hardwicke and her friend, Miss Matthews.

“Oh, dear me,” the countess said. “I just remembered I need to speak with Miss Faulkner about plans for our evening at Vauxhall. You are both attending that, are you not? You’ll have to excuse me.” She bustled off before Tabitha could voice an objection, without giving either of them an opportunity to confirm or deny their attendance at her upcoming entertainment.

“I’ll just deposit your packages with Claremont, then,” Lord Devonport called out after her. Lady St. Benedict raised a hand in acknowledgement. “I think she recognized you to be the lady I wished to call upon today.” He slipped one of Tabitha’s hands into the crook of his arm and led her toward the waiting carriages.

“Devonport, thank God,” Christopher said when they arrived. Desperation had brought a sheen of perspiration to cover his brow. “Tell me you have a carriage with you. I’ll never be able to transport them all to Burlington Arcade when they’re done here with all of these purchases, let alone back to the townhouse when they’ve finished their shopping.”

Lord Devonport passed him the two packages belonging to Lady St. Benedict. “My barouche is only down the block. I can easily carry Lady Tabitha and two others.”

“Consider me one of the two.” Christopher glanced over his shoulder. Tabitha assumed he was looking to be sure Helen was not directly behind him. “I’m close to carting myself off to Bedlam within the next hour as it is. Remind me to strangle Jo later,” he said to Tabitha. “It wouldn’t do to commit murder on the streets like this. The ladies might faint or something.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” she said on a laugh.

“When do you plan to leave for Burlington Arcade?” Lord Devonport asked.

“Half an hour. Can you have your barouche brought around by then?”

“Of course. I’ll be sure to return with Lady Tabitha in time to assist you.”

Return with her? Where did he think he was taking her? “But this is a ladies’ outing, my lord,” she protested.

He started to walk with her hand still tucked firmly in the bend of his arm. She must either go with him or create a scene. “Indeed, it appears to be so. Surely the other ladies will not miss you for a half hour, though.” When they had moved out of hearing distance of the others in the party, he slowed, taking smoother, longer strides. “You still have not given me an answer about Mother’s wedding. Will you accompany me?”

“I agreed to allow you to pay me court, my lord, and I have followed through with that promise. I’ve danced with you when you have asked and talked with you when you have called.”

“Why do I sense a ‘however’ in the near future?” Lord Devonport asked. He gazed down upon her with a hangdog expression. “Am I not acquitting myself well enough? Have I done something to earn your displeasure?”

It was infuriating how he looked so perfectly kissable when he was irritated. The downturned corners of his mouth practically begged her to caress their frown away, which would be altogether inappropriate considering they were walking down a public street in Mayfair. “You’ve done nothing wrong,” she replied once she regained her bearings. “However, permitting you to court me is an entirely separate matter from giving society the impression that we are affianced.”

“And is there a problem with fostering such a notion?” he asked.

“I told you before that I will not marry. That has not changed.” It could not change, no matter how much she may wish otherwise. Tabitha would never go back on her word to Jo and Bethanne. Not for any man.

Lord Devonport stopped and pulled her around to face him. They stood before a haberdashery shop, while horses and carriages clattered down the road and shoppers bustled in and out of storefronts all around them. “Is there nothing I can do to change your mind?” He locked his gaze to hers, entreating her to reconsider.

“No, my lord.” A piece of her heart broke off and withered away at the anguish her pronouncement brought about.

He looked back to where they had come from. “We should order my barouche brought around.”

Tabitha placed her hand on his arm again and followed his lead as he headed in the opposite direction. She didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent.

Several minutes passed before they reached his carriage. “Our half hour is nearly gone,” Lord Devonport said. “We should ride back instead of walking.” He took her hand and assisted her up, then gave the driver instructions before joining her on the same seat. The barouche lurched into motion when he was seated and ready.

“What would you have me do, then?” he asked after her uncommunicativeness had gone on for several more minutes. “If you’ll not marry me, what is our relationship to become? I fully intend to continue courting you. I plan to kiss you again, and often. I want there to be more than that, even. And if you deny you want the same, I’ll call your bluff right here in the middle of the street where everyone can see. So what then, Lady Tabitha?”

A flutter of emotions coursed through her body and landed with a thud at the bottom of her stomach. Was he asking her to become his mistress? A clandestine lover? Aunt Rosaline had carried on affairs with no regard for her reputation. Was Tabitha prepared to follow in that same course? “I don’t know. I don’t know how to answer your question.”

They drew up alongside the carriages which were rapidly filling with the other ladies. As the barouche came to a stop and Christopher led Helen over to them, Lord Devonport stifled a groan of sorts. “You need to come up with an answer soon.”

Noah downed the whiskey before him in a single swallow. It had burned his throat and caused his eyes to water when he first started that night at White’s, but the discomfort ceased sometime after his fourth. He couldn’t say how many he’d had at this point as he gestured for Leith to pour him another.

Instead of refilling Noah’s glass, Leith pushed the bottle out of Noah’s reach. “I think,” the dratted earl said slowly, “you’ve already had more than you can handle.”

Noah pointed a finger across the table at him. Or maybe he pointed three. Gracious, how many fingers were on his hand? “How do you know what I can think?” That didn’t sound right.

It didn’t stop Leith from giving him an answer to the question he had intended to ask, however. “You never have more than the occasional brandy, and even that is a rare occurrence. You’ve drunk half the bottle already. As it is, you’ll be sicker than you’ve ever been in your life tomorrow. Trust me, Devonport, you’ll thank me later for stopping you now.”

“I’ll thank you to refill my bottle from the damned glass.” He’d cursed. Noah couldn’t remember the last time he’d cursed. He thought he might like to try it again. “Damn you.” Yes, that felt good.

Leith laughed, and Noah wanted to plant the sorry sod a facer. He restrained himself, though. Noah didn’t care to damage any of the extra fingers he’d just discovered before he had an opportunity to examine them in the light of day.

“Stop laughing at me.”

“Face it, Devonport. You’re drunk as a wheelbarrow.”

“Laugh one more time, and I’ll barrow your blasted wheels.” Where had that come from? It didn’t even make sense to Noah in his slightly inebriated state.

Leith pushed a tray of sandwiches closer to Noah. “Eat. It will help. Are you ready to tell me what brought this on?”

Come to think of it, he was hungry. Noah selected a sandwich and took a bite. “Not what. Who,” he grumbled while chewing. “And who would you—hic—think it was?”

“Aha,” Leith said. “This is about Lady Tabitha. Things are not going well between you then? I thought you’d finally made some progress.”

“Oh, she’ll allow me to court her and touch her and kiss her until I nearly blow my ballocks, all right. Things are going perfectly well in that regard. But she won’t let me be her wife.”

“I see,” Leith murmured, drawing his fingers to a point at his chin. “That presents quite a conundrum. One I’m all too familiar with. So you’ve compromised her, and she still won’t have you?”

“That’s the pro—hic—problem,” Noah drawled. “No one has caught me complicating her. No one but her maid, at least. And even if someone did discover us in a compulsive position, she wouldn’t care. She says she won’t marry.”

Leith passed him a glass of water. “Drink. It’ll help.”

“I want—hic—more whiskey. Bloody hiccoughs.”

“Drink the water. The whiskey is what caused your ‘bloody hiccoughs’, you drunken imbecile.” Leith sat back in his chair and waited until Noah started to grudgingly drink. “Do you want someone to catch you compromising Lady Tabitha?”

Yes. Good God, yes. “No. She’d be furious with me.” But he certainly did love watching her in a fit of pique. It always made him wonder how that passion would translate to the bedchamber.

“Well, I suppose you’d better find another way of convincing her to change her mind. But that can wait for another day. I should probably see you home, now.”

“I don’t want—hic—to go home.” Noah yawned. He wanted to curl up right where he was and go to sleep. Going home seemed like far more trouble than it was worth.

Leith came around the table and hefted Noah to his feet, pulling one arm across his shoulders. “Come on. My curricle is waiting. I’ll order your driver to take your carriage home.”

“Leave me be,” Noah said. “I might be ill.” Faster than a blink of the eye, Leith let him go and Noah dropped to the floor, cracking his knees against the hard wood surface. “Bloody hell! That—hic—hurts. What did you do that for?”

“I don’t fancy wearing your whiskey on my boots. On second thought, maybe we should take your carriage.”

Noah tried to stand, but fell back down again. The floor seemed to be slipping out from under him. “Fine. Let’s just go.” He reached out a hand, hoping Leith would assist him, but Leith just shook his head and held a finger to his lips. “Could you help me up?”

“Quiet,” Leith whispered. “Listen.”

Listen. The only thing Noah heard was a roaring in his ears, like the ocean crashing against the cliff his heart had just leapt from. But then he heard a voice he recognized.

Oglethorpe. The bastard. Noah’s head suddenly seemed to clear. He managed to pull himself to his feet and moved closer to the wall separating them.

“You don’t seem to be making a very good show of it, Eggerley. I’ve not seen you anywhere near the Cow.” Noah saw red. Red with funny little twinkling lights floating about in it. He swiped out to grab one of the lights, but nearly fell from the effort.

But then another man laughed. “While you’ve been near the ape leader aplenty, but are still a far cry from collecting your wager.” The bloody wager. Noah sobered instantly. The ‘Cow’ Oglethorpe had mentioned was no cow at all, but his Tabitha. His love.

“Not as far as you think,” Oglethorpe boasted. Noah smothered his own roar of fury before it could escape him.

“Is that so?” Eggerley mocked. “So when should I expect the banns to be called, then?”

“If things go according to plan, I’d expect it to happen within the week. Two at most. If you want a chance at winning, you need to get involved.”

Noah wanted to pummel him. Both of them. He wanted to make them hurt the way he had that afternoon when Lady Tabitha told him yet again that she wouldn’t have him. Only Leith’s hand on his arm held him back from moving into the other room and taking his frustrations out with his fists. That and the fact that he was still unsteady on his feet.

“We should go,” Leith said softly. “There’s nothing you can do right now. Not while you’re in this state.”

Leith was right. As much as Noah hated to admit it, he was right. He allowed Leith to half carry him out of White’s and to a waiting carriage.

Would he have to compromise Lady Tabitha and ‘allow’ himself to be caught? If he did, he’d be no better than Oglethorpe and Eggerley.

But if he didn’t...

The stench of vomit woke Noah the next morning, alongside a pain so severe that he thought his head would feel better if it was split in two. “What happened?”

“Good morning, my lord,” called out his valet, Horace. “You shot the cat, I’m afraid. Drink this. It will help.”

“What cat?” Never mind. Noah didn’t want to know. He didn’t have the energy to argue with anyone. He lifted the glass to his mouth and took a large swig, only to spit it out almost immediately. “That is vile. Are you trying to kill me?”

“Not at all. Lady Devonport promises it is the best cure for what ails you.” Horace returned to cleaning up the mess Noah had apparently made in his sleep. “Drink all of it, or she vows she’ll have Cook make another batch.”

Mother would, too. Noah sniffed at the concoction and his nose wrinkled of its own accord. “What is it?”

“I can’t be sure of all the ingredients, my lord, but I saw orange juice, milk, raw eggs, blackberries, and smashed tomatoes go in with the coffee. I did see a piece of cod sitting about while Cook was preparing this, but I’m sure it couldn’t be included. I hope. I also recall the smell of burnt toast, though I can’t imagine what Cook could have done with that.”

Looking down at the murky, chunky mixture, Noah had a few thoughts on the matter.

“Best not to look, but just to pinch your nose and down it without delay, my lord. And next time, perhaps to avoid overdoing it with the whiskey.” Horace muttered this last beneath his breath, but loud enough that his master would be sure to hear.

When Noah didn’t immediately comply, the valet cleared his throat. “Go on with you. You’re in dire need of a bath, and Lord Leith has already stopped by to check on you. He asked me to deliver a message.”

“And what is that?”

“I’ll tell you once you drink.” Horace stood waiting with his arms crossed over his chest, until Noah finally pinched his nostrils and forced the repulsive concoction down, choking. Once he’d finished, he raised the glass so his valet would continue. Horace shoved a plate in front of him. “Now break your fast. Lord Leith said you should come to his lodgings once you’ve recovered. He wants to discuss the events of last night, and there is no time to waste.”

Noah took a few bites. The only event of last night he remembered at the moment was when he proved himself a fool by drinking to the point of oblivion.

Because Lady Tabitha wouldn’t have him. Because she would never marry.

Oh. Oh, no. Flashes of conversation from White’s flooded his memory. Telling Leith about kissing and touching her until he worried he might embarrass himself. Mentioning that he’d compromised her but not been caught. Things he ought never to have said to anyone.

And then another memory crashed over him. Oglethorpe. Eggerley. The wager.

Noah shoveled the food into his mouth as fast as he could. “Ring for my bath, Horace. We need to hurry.”

The chirping birdsong of a pair of linnets warred with each other for dominance in the background. A small grouping of ladies and gentlemen promenaded past Tabitha and Lord Oglethorpe where they sat beneath a weeping willow in one of the lesser-traveled parts of Hyde Park.

Tabitha’s skin itched all over.

Not even so much as a swath of bare skin touched the picnic blanket upon which she sat; she was amply covered from head-to-toe, or at least as covered as the newer fashions Madame Duchesne had crafted for her would allow.

Yet she itched.

Lord Oglethorpe passed her a plate filled with cold meats and cheeses. “How fortuitous that the weather is so amiable today. I would have been devastated if we’d had to cancel our plans or move the picnic indoors.” The tautness of his mouth seemed to contradict his words.

Perhaps Lord Oglethorpe’s presence was what caused her skin to crawl.

Tabitha shook the thought from her mind. He was a fortune hunter, yes. As was Lord Devonport. But Lord Devonport’s nearness merely served to heighten her awareness of every part of her body, not make her skin feel prickly and irritated.

Comparing the two men was almost entirely unfair, though. Tabitha could never imagine wanting Lord Oglethorpe to kiss her as Lord Devonport had done—to draw her close and touch her bared breasts. She’d thought of little else with regard to Lord Devonport in the days since he had first pulled her into his arms and stoked the long-dormant embers of her need.

“Would you care for some sherry?” Lord Oglethorpe asked, drawing a bottle and two glasses from the lined basket beside him. “I know it is early in the day for spirits, but I thought it might be welcome against the slight chill in the air.”

It felt almost scandalous to accept, but she couldn’t see any true harm in it. “Yes, thank you.” Tabitha took a bite of ham and tried to remember why she’d agreed to join the man for a picnic. She had more than enough other suitors at the moment to keep Father happy. There was no need to entertain the fortune hunter’s pursuit. But Oglethorpe’s invitation had come before the rest joined in the hunt.

After accepting the glass he handed to her, Tabitha raised it, took a sip, and nearly choked on its burn. “Goodness, this is strong.” And it had a suspicious hint of brandy flavoring amidst the sweeter tones of sherry she had expected.

“Oh, dear. I do apologize.” Lord Oglethorpe took a swallow from his own glass and grimaced. “Yes, it seems to be a rather robust batch.” He repositioned himself on the blanket, moving closer to Tabitha until his thigh brushed against hers.

She slid away from him under the guise of readjusting her skirts, but could not mistake the lascivious manner in which he leered down the bodice of her gown as she did so. Using nimble fingers, she did up all the fastenings on her pelisse. “There seems to be a minor coolness on the breeze.”

“Is there?” he asked. Again, he shifted until the contact between them was undeniably inappropriate, landing with his weight on her skirts so she could not remove herself without a struggle. “I was feeling rather overheated, myself.”

The Ladies Kibblewhite and Plumridge rode into her view seated in a phaeton. “Oh, Lady Tabitha!” They waved in her direction. “Lovely to see you out today.” More likely what they found lovely to see was fodder for their gossip-mongering.

Tabitha waved in return with a pained smile as they drove past, then returned her attention to the libertine causing her more immediate concern. “My lord,” she said through gritted teeth once the dragons were out of both earshot and sight, “I should think if you are overheated, you ought to back away from my person.”

“I merely thought to help ward off your chill,” Lord Oglethorpe said, his tone obsequious and smug. He placed a firm hand on her knee and leaned closer to her.

Tabitha slapped his hand away and stretched to reestablish a more appropriate distance between them. “That is entirely unnecessary. Thank you for your thoughtfulness.”

Another move and he was almost atop her. His hand returned, more forcefully, groping up the length of her thigh with thick, probing fingers. With his other hand, he grabbed hold of the back of her head and jerked her toward him, settling his mouth over hers in a repulsive kiss.

A scream rose in her throat, but was muffled against his assault. She flailed her arms against him, but he rolled himself over her until she was trapped beneath him, moving his hands to capture and confine hers. He reeked of pipe tobacco and sweat, and the scent poured uncontrollably into her nostrils. His legs settled on either side of her as his tongue forced entry to her mouth, hard and plunging, and devoid of any tenderness.

Tabitha whimpered. What could she do? Why wasn’t someone coming to her rescue? At least a dozen people had gone past them in the last half hour. Surely someone was there, someone could see. Couldn’t they?

She dug her half boots into the ground beneath her and lifted herself as well as she could, but his weight held her captive. The small movement freed enough of her gown that she could move her legs; Tabitha lifted her knee in a kicking motion, connecting with his manhood.

He rolled off her with an, “Oof,” coming from his mouth, reaching down to hold himself where she’d struck him. “You’ll regret that, you fat bitch.”

Tabitha scrambled to her feet while she had a chance. She doubted her efforts would grant her much time. Indeed, he struggled to rise before she had decided what to do. Closing her eyes, she kicked forward, aiming her half boots at the same spot. It worked; he was writhing on the ground again almost immediately. There was no more time to debate her options. Tabitha turned and fled, before the mongrel had a chance to recover and chase after her.

Turning from Bond Street toward Hanover Square, she finally allowed herself to slow her pace. She’d been in a near run since leaving Lord Oglethorpe behind at Hyde Park, but now she was almost home. She was safe.

How incredibly footsore she was! She might have a blister on the bottom of one foot, but she couldn’t stop to deal with it now. For all she knew, Oglethorpe could be right behind her. Indeed, she had often turned at the sound of an oncoming carriage to be certain that wasn’t the case as she rushed along.

This wasn’t something she could tell Father or Owen or Toby about, either. If they knew what he’d done, they’d either call him out or force her to marry Oglethorpe. Neither option appealed to her. In that regard, she was lucky no one had come to her rescue and witnessed the scene.

The clatter of horse and carriage sounded behind her again. Tabitha’s head turned, and she immediately wished she hadn’t looked. Lord Devonport was almost upon her already, leading a team of two before his curricle.

“Lady Tabitha?” He passed her, and then the carriage slowed and drew to a stop just in front of her. “Why are you out alone? And why are you crying?” he asked as he leapt down.

“Crying?” Was she truly? Tabitha touched a glove to her cheek and it came away wet. “I suppose I am.”

His eyes were bloodshot, but filled with concern. “Come. I’m taking you home.” Placing one hand in the small of her back, he grasped her arm in his other and helped her into the curricle. He hadn’t given her the opportunity to decide what she wanted. He had just acted.

“I’m almost there,” Tabitha said feebly. “It is no trouble.” But with the aid of his team of horses, they arrived before her father’s house almost before she had raised her unconvincing objection.

Lord Devonport tossed the reins to a groom before descending, and then he turned and lifted her down. Heat rose up the back of her neck at the touch. His hands rested on her waist for a moment once she was safely on the ground, keeping her too close to him, to his warmth. Too close to his safety. But she couldn’t pull herself away, despite the knowledge that anyone could see them.

Finally, he removed his grip and faced Shelton Hall. “Shall we?”

Tabitha placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her inside. Livingston opened the door and took Lord Devonport’s hat.

Lord Devonport guided her into the drawing room. “Inform Newcastle that his daughter has need of him,” he said to Livingston as they brushed past.

“I would, my lord, but his lordship is not at home.” The butler bustled along beside them, signaling a maid for tea as he went. “Is Lady Tabitha unwell? Should I send a footman out for the doctor?”

A doctor? Good heavens, she wasn’t ill. “No doctor is necessary, Livingston. I’m quite all right.”

A frustrated sound, one reminiscent of a wild animal’s growl, issued from Lord Devonport. He took more care than necessary to settle her on the Grecian sofa. “Raynesford, then.” At the shake of Livingston’s head, he tried again. “Shelton? Lady Raynesford? Is no member of the family at home?”

“No, my lord. And I have to question why you are the one to return Lady Tabitha. I expected Lord Oglethorpe to do that, since he collected her earlier for a picnic. Indeed, I did not expect her home for another hour or more.”

Lord Devonport snapped his head around to the butler, and Tabitha could only imagine the flashing blue fire that must be in his eyes, though she did not know why such a response would be called for at present. “That is none of your concern,” he said, standing straight before the butler with command. A tremulous maid hurried in to set down the tea service and then left again before she could be stopped. “When a member from the family returns—any member—send them straight in. I’ll see to Lady Tabitha’s needs until that time.”

“Very well, my lord. Ring if you should need anything.” Livingston folded into a deep bow, and then backed out of the room.

With shaking hands, Lord Devonport poured out a cup of tea, adding milk and two cubes of sugar as was Tabitha’s wont, and passed it into her hands. How did he know how she took her tea?

“Drink. It’ll calm my nerves.”

Although sorely tempted, she refrained from pointing out how ludicrous his statement was and instead took a soothing sip. He removed a handkerchief from a pocket of his coat and gently blotted it against her cheeks. His touch was light as a feather. When he finished, he placed it in her free hand and closed her fingers over it. Then he gently untied the ribbons of her poke bonnet and freed it from her head, placing it on the occasional table next to the sofa.

He neglected to sit, neither beside her nor across from her; instead, he paced a path through the open spaces in the drawing room, trailing an unsteady hand through his hair and glancing frequently over to her. It was as though he wanted to make sure she hadn’t disappeared in front of his very eyes. Once her cup was half-empty, he stood straight and tall before the hearth with his hands clasped firmly behind his back, staring her through with a piercing gaze—one much like he wore when he kissed her, though laced with a tinge of anger.

“Have you calmed down enough to speak with me, Tabitha?” His voice was so soft she had to strain to make out all his words.

Tabitha knew what he wanted to discuss. She didn’t particularly care to talk to anyone about it, but she couldn’t keep running away. Running only served to put her in harm’s way, it seemed. “Yes.”

In two strides, he reached her side, falling to the sofa beside her and taking one of her hands earnestly into his own. “What did Oglethorpe do?” His words were hardly more than a strangled groan. “Has he compromised you?”

“No!” How could he have guessed such a thing? She couldn’t let anyone think that. Not now. Not ever. Tabitha racked her mind for something she could tell him, something that wouldn’t lead to imminent disaster. Nothing readily presented itself to her mind.

“Very well,” Lord Devonport said. He took a deep breath before continuing. “Why don’t we start at the beginning? Lord Oglethorpe took you on a picnic?”

That would be good. If she could start there, then maybe she would have time to formulate her story in a manner which would not end up with her becoming betrothed to anyone. Though it was admittedly rather difficult to think of anything at all with Lord Devonport so near, save running her fingers through the hair he habitually mussed with his own fingers.

“Yes. He had asked me to accompany him today more than a week ago. We went to Hyde Park, to a quiet spot in a grove of willows.”

“You mean to a secluded area where no one could interrupt his nefarious plans,” Lord Devonport grumbled, tightening one hand into a balled fist.

She started. Damn and blast, it seemed he already knew everything that had happened. Did he know what Lord Oglethorpe had planned? Had he watched them from some undisclosed location? He could just be playing a game with her, trying to see if she would admit the truth of the situation.

Lord Devonport pushed himself back into his seat, putting a bit more distance between them. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have interrupted. Go on.”

How much should she reveal? Every word felt like a dagger in her stomach, twisting and turning as she sealed her fate. “We had not been there long when he tried to kiss me.”

Lord Devonport bolted out of his seat and halfway across the room in what appeared a single movement, knocking over an occasional table with his booted feet and punching his fist through thin air as he went. Tabitha’s eyes widened at his display of pique. She’d never seen him so animated in his displeasure. It sent tingles of awareness straight through to her toes. Would he be so distressed if she were someone else?

“Did he succeed?” When he asked his question, Lord Devonport did not turn to face her, staring instead out the opened draperies that lined the bay window.

Ought she to tell the truth or a lie? Tabitha had only a moment’s hesitation in which to decide. “No,” she said before she could second-guess herself. “I struck him for his impertinence and left.”

Several moments passed in which Lord Devonport seemed to be having a silent argument within his own head. He vacillated between nodding and murmuring and then shaking his head in frustration. Finally, he turned to her. His eyes were more heated than she’d ever seen them, burning her to the core. “You’re certain he did not succeed, Tabitha? I have reason to believe he would not have given up so easily.” His gentle words hung on the stillness between them.

He knew. She couldn’t fathom how he had done it, but he knew. Tears stung her eyes, spilling over without her blessing.

“Don’t cry.” Lord Devonport rushed back to her side, stepping over the fallen occasional table and her bonnet with ease and drawing her into his arms. Somehow, he extracted the handkerchief from her grip and dabbed it to her cheeks again. “Please don’t cry. Just tell me—tell me what he did. I need to know, sweetheart.”

Tabitha had to tell him at least a closer semblance to the truth. He would not give up until she did. Drawing in a breath to staunch her tears, she said, “He kissed me. I didn’t want his kiss, so I struck him—” No, Lord Devonport had not believed that part of the story moments ago. “I struck him with my knee between his legs. When he was howling in pain, I left him where he was and headed home.”

One corner of Lord Devonport’s mouth curled up in a smile. “You kicked him between his legs? Good girl. Your brothers taught you well.”

“My brothers had nothing to do with that,” she countered.

“Of course not.” He patted the back of her gloved hand in a placating manner. She ought to kick him between his legs for his unwanted mollification. But after several moments had passed, he still did not set her hand free. His grip grew tighter, more insistent. “You’re all right then, Tabitha? You are no worse for wear?” He drew her hand over to hold it between both of his own on his lap, tracing through her glove the unseen lines of her palm with a finger. It tickled, sending warm waves of pleasure all the way to her toes.

“I’m fine, my lord.”

“Good. That’s good.”

The finger causing such delightful tingles moved to the soft flesh on the underside of her arm, swirling a tormenting cascade of delight up to her elbow. Tabitha watched its path as it went. She jumped when he touched her there, on the inner bend of her arm, until she could hear the blood roaring through her veins. And then his hand moved over, ever so slightly, until his torturous finger was working enchantments on her breast.

She ought to stop him. Lord Devonport’s behavior was highly inappropriate. Scandalous. Heaven.

The hand that still held hers captive slid up slightly, his fingers lightly brushing against her wrist where he could feel the telling pounding of her pulse. “Should I stop?” he asked. She couldn’t answer. She could do nothing but feel. “I should stop. I should stop immediately.” But he didn’t. He splayed the fingers over her breast until his entire hand enveloped it. When he gently squeezed and then slid his palm over the silk of her gown, her nipple hardened into a tight pebble of need and he groaned deep in his throat.

Tabitha reached for him. She wanted to erase the memory of Lord Oglethorpe’s vile tongue in her mouth, the feel of his hand on her thigh, the odor of his foulness in her nostrils, the unclean way he’d made her feel. She wanted the memory of Lord Devonport to replace it. The rich, musky scent of his cologne. The loving care his touch evoked. The heady taste of his tongue, his mouth. The frantic, yearning need he kindled in her womanly places.

She wove her fingers through the tangled disarray of his blond waves and pulled him down to her, eyes open the entire time. He, too, looked down at her as they came together. When their lips met, his eyes glazed over in a silent entreaty.

His mouth was so soft, like smooth velvet. Just as she’d imagined them to be for so long. Just as she remembered them to be from their first two kisses. He begged entrance with his tongue, sliding it along the crevice of her lips in a controlled frenzy until she couldn’t bear to deny him any longer. When he slipped inside, he tilted his head and swallowed the small sounds she let out. She was drunk on his wet, honeyed heat.

And then his hands were everywhere. Drawing over the silk bodice of her gown, tormenting her already sensitive breasts. Sliding down her ribcage and coursing over her hips. Cupping against her bottom, lifting her up to drape her legs across his lap and drawing her closer to him. The evidence of his growing erection pressed against Tabitha’s thigh, sending a flood of dampness to amass at her center. “I should stop,” he said again, although he did not pull away.

“No. Don’t stop.” Tabitha used both hands on his head to keep his mouth on hers, despite the fact that he had not even attempted to leave her.

Leaning over until he was half lying on top of her, Lord Devonport murmured, “Oh, God,” against her lips. His chest pressed her down into the sofa and he brought his hands back up her arms. With a firm tug, he slid the cap sleeves of her gown down, freeing her breasts.

The cool air of the room came as a shock to her heated nipples and she sucked in a gulp of air. Lord Devonport took that opportunity to kiss a path down her throat, over her chest, and directly to one of her breasts. When he flicked his tongue against the taut nub, she shuddered in hedonistic pleasure. Her enjoyment threatened to shatter her when he took most of her breast into his steamy mouth and covered the other with his large, powerful hand.

She wanted it never to end. She wanted to drown in his touch. She wanted to give him the same exquisite torture he was giving to her.

A loud indrawn breath sounded from across the room. “Bloody hell.” Toby.

Bloody hell, indeed.

“I suppose this is settled, then.” And Owen, too.

She wanted to die of mortification.

This was not what he wanted to have happen. Not really. Noah eased himself away from Tabitha, careful to keep her hidden from her brothers’ view as he did. Sweet Christ, she was a vision below him, pink everywhere he could see, with swollen lips and chagrin pouring out of her eyes. “Cover yourself,” he whispered as he turned to face his executioners, ever wary of keeping her half-naked form from their view.

Shelton stood with his feet spread wide, arms crossed over his chest, and daggers shooting from his eyes.

Raynesford, on the other hand, seemed mildly amused. “I’ll arrange for Father to speak with you tomorrow. You can work out the details with him.”

“Details?” Tabitha’s voice shook behind him. “What details?”

“Don’t feign ignorance,” Shelton drawled. “And it is far too late for innocence.”

Raynesford quelled his brother with a look and then returned his attention to his sister when she stood to stand next to Noah. Properly covered. Disappointment and relief warred within him at the sight. “The details of your marriage contract,” Raynesford said. “You and Devonport will have to wed now.”

“We most certainly will not!” Tabitha said.

Noah reached down and took her hand to soothe her. “We will.” He kept his voice tranquil and smooth. With an indignant huff, she snatched her hand back.

“He had his mouth on your—on your—” Shelton gestured madly, pointing somewhere in the general vicinity of her chest. Noah wished he could return his mouth to just that location. It had been pure euphoria, until the Shelton brothers had walked in and brought him crashing headfirst back down to earth. “You don’t have a choice, Tabitha.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, slightly beneath her breasts, propping them up. Noah tamped down the urge to groan. “I’m not some flighty, underage debutante. I’m a woman old enough to know my own mind. I have a choice.”

“Your reputation—” Raynesford started, before she cut him off.

“My reputation will survive. No one knows what happened except the four of us in this room.” She passed her gaze between the three of them. “There is no reason for anyone else to know.”

Livingston cleared his throat at the open double-doors, just behind where the two brothers stood. “Lord Leith and Miss Faulkner,” he announced stiffly. Tabitha’s face fell.

“Well,” Leith said as he came through the entryway, “I had no idea we were joining a funeral.”

Miss Faulkner planted her hands firmly on her hips. “What’s going on here? Tabby?”

“We were just discussing whether Tabitha’s reputation is ruined or not, after Owen and I walked in on Devonport with his mouth on her naked breast.” Shelton closed his eyes and shook his head, as though trying to shake the memory free. “Care to offer your thoughts on the subject?”

“Oh, Tabby,” was all Miss Faulkner could say.

Leith caught Noah’s eye with a wink. Like he’d planned it this way. Like he should be proud of himself.

But how could he be?

“It doesn’t matter,” Tabitha said in the thick silence blanketing the room. “I won’t have him. Lord Devonport and I were both fully aware of this before we acted. There is nothing more to be said.”

“Why won’t you have him?” Shelton asked.

“I will not marry a man who wants my money more than he wants me.”

“If I may, Lady Tabitha,” Leith put in, “it seems plain to me that Devonport wants you a great deal.”

“You’re wrong.”

Her brothers simultaneously lifted their brows at her.

“All of you. You’re all wrong,” Tabitha repeated.

“They’re not,” Noah said softly, so only she could hear. “You know they’re right. You’ve felt how much I want you. How much I need you. Tabitha, you have to marry me, because I’ll go mad with need if you don’t.”

“I suppose you’ll just have to go mad then, won’t you?” she replied.

The minx was determined to send him to the asylum. “Perhaps,” he murmured. “Why don’t we see what your father has to say?”

Her murderous glare did nothing to vanquish his raging lust.

“He’s in the library with your father,” Jo said as she let herself into Tabitha’s bedchamber. “I talked to him for a minute before he went in. He doesn’t seem inclined to keep the truth—any of it—from Uncle Drake.”

“Hmm.” Tabitha didn’t move. She lay flopped down on her back with her arms spread out behind her head, languidly combing through her hair and staring at the canopy of her four-poster bed. If given the opportunity, she might remain in precisely this position for the next millennia or so, particularly with the curtains surrounding her drawn. Here, she was in her own world, her own thoughts. Here, she couldn’t be bothered by ridiculous, overbearing men thinking they could order her to do as they wished over something as silly as a kiss. Here, it didn’t matter if Lord Devonport told her father that she’d been his model for a series of nude sculptures, or that she’d agreed to become his mistress, or that she made a habit of selling her services near Haymarket.

Tabitha remained in blissfully dreary darkness until Jo ripped back one of the curtains and dropped to sit beside her. “Tabby, enough of this. Talk to me.”

“Close the curtain, please.” Tabitha scowled up at the invasive light as her cousin did not comply. With a huff, she pushed herself up and snapped it back into place how she wanted it. Then she slumped back again. “What would you have me say?”

“Before saying anything, I’d like you to cease acting like I am somehow at fault for anything that has been going on.”

Tabitha nodded her agreement, giving no thought to how her cousin might see such an action in the dim light peeking through the curtains. She had been acting quite the overindulged toddler around Jo of late, who had done nothing to deserve it.

“Excellent.” Jo pulled back the curtain again and tied it in place so the light could come in from the windows. “Now, what is your plan?”

“I don’t have a plan.”

“Well, let’s make a plan then. Clearly, your father will insist that you marry. Do you want to marry Lord Devonport?”

If she was honest with herself, Tabitha most decidedly did want to marry him. However, she had no intention of doing so, no matter how much Father may wish for it. She wanted to please him as often as she could, but Tabitha would not be the one to go back on the pact she’d made with Jo and Bethanne so many years before. And even if that weren’t a factor in her decision, she wasn’t entirely convinced that Lord Devonport wanted her for anything other than her dowry.

Yes, he claimed he wanted her. She knew he lusted for her. But was lust enough? Lust was not love. Even if lasciviousness was enough, Lord Oglethorpe had proven to her in the park that money lust could provoke physical lust.

“No,” she lied. “What do you think Father will do when I refuse? He can’t force me to marry, not at my age.”

Jo’s eyes narrowed in thought. “True. But he could toss you out on your ear. If he does, you’ll have to come live with us.”

“Uncle Thad wouldn’t let me stay if Father has tossed me out though, would he?”

“If he knows what is good for him, he will,” Jo said. “But I suppose we should prepare for that potential eventuality.”

She’d said ‘we’. “If your father won’t let me stay, that isn’t a good enough reason for you to leave, as well.”

“Rubbish. We’ll go to stay with Bethanne and Aunt Rosaline.” Jo picked at the ribbon adorning her waist. “Aunt Rosaline, at least, will insist we can stay. And I’m sure Bethanne would appreciate the help and company.”

“Yes. Right,” Tabitha said. “Well, I suppose that is our plan then.”

“But there is always the possibility that Uncle Drake will refuse to allow you to stay at Aunt Rosaline’s cottage. He does provide for her support, after all. He could take the allowance he grants them back.”

Tabitha sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin upon them and locking them in place with her arms. This was not looking good. Not at all. “If we can’t go to the cottage, then what will we do?”

Jo took one of Tabitha’s hands. “We could always take up a profession. I’m good with figures. I could handle the financial aspects. And I suppose you could always sell more of what you were giving away to Lord Devonport.”

Tears stung Tabitha’s eyes. She tried to tug her hand back, but Jo wouldn’t let it go. “Josephine Faulkner, I cannot believe you just said that.”

“And I can’t believe you, Tabitha Eleanor Shelton, are going to walk away from the best opportunity you’ve ever had for love. I adore you, Tabby. I love you more than I know how to handle. But you’re a great, blithering idiot if you don’t accept Lord Devonport’s offer. And I’ll tell you one more thing. If you don’t accept him, if you don’t give him the opportunity to love you the way he clearly does, I’ll cut you off, no matter what Uncle Drake does. I swear I’ll never speak to you again.”

“But our pact—”

“Our pact was made when we were three silly little girls with romanticized notions of our aunt and unrealistic ideas about ourselves and who we are. No matter how much we love Aunt Rosaline, we aren’t her. We each have to make our own paths, Tabby.”

Tabitha could do nothing but stare slack-jawed at her cousin. Never, since that day so many years ago when the three girls had agreed to become old maids together, had she allowed herself to think for a moment that she would ever marry. For over half of her life, she’d known she would never know a man’s love. It hadn’t been something she had allowed herself to hope for. Hope could only serve to crush her dreams and break her heart when it frittered away.

Jo leaned over and kissed Tabitha on the forehead in a gesture reminiscent of Tabitha’s mother. “I’ve been thinking over these past few weeks as I’ve watched you with Lord Devonport, and the way he is with you. I did you a great disservice when we made our pact. You and Bethie both. I let you believe the horrible things your father and brothers said about you, that no man would have you if not for your money because you were plump. I allowed Bethie to think that because she had no dowry of which to speak, she’d never find a man to offer for her. Clearly I was wrong about that, now that Miranda has married well and is quite content with her lot.” Jo took a ragged breath and wiped a tear from her own eye. “It may be too late to change things for Bethie, now that she’s caring for Aunt Rosaline and has Finn to look after as well. She may never have her opportunity, and I’ll have to live with that forever. But you do, and you’re squandering it.”

“And what of you?” Tabitha asked, flabbergasted. “What of your opportunity? Lord Leith—”

Jo cut her off before she could finish her thought. “I wanted you and Bethie to become old maids with me, because I have always known I would be one. I will never marry. You know I would never agree to any relationship in which I am not on equal footing—as a partner, of sorts—not as a subservient. Lord Leith will have to come to accept that fact.” She quirked a grin in Tabitha’s direction. “Be honest with me, Tabby. Be honest with yourself. You love him, don’t you?”

The answer must be in her eyes, with the way it coursed through every pore of her body like the Thames running to the sea. “I—”

“If you fib again, I’ll draw your cork.”

Time to let the truth out.

“Jo pled your case with her. I’m sure of it.” Shelton walked to the sideboard in his father’s library and poured two glasses of some spirit. “And Father is surely doing the same now. She’ll see reason. Eventually.”

When Shelton returned to Noah’s side, he reached out to offer one of the glasses. The memory of the other night was still too fresh in Noah’s mind. He couldn’t bring himself to even smell the liquor. Nausea inundated his system from the memory alone; he knew his face must be a terrific shade of green. With one hand held out, Noah shook his head.

“More for me.” Shelton shrugged his shoulders and then downed the extra glass in a single swill. “So how bad a time of it did my father give you?”

“Not as bad as I expected. He wanted to know all the details of my current situation and how I intend to support Tabitha. I let him know about the shipping enterprise I looked into yesterday. That seemed to satisfy him.” Whether it would satisfy Tabitha or not remained to be seen. “We agreed that the bulk of her dowry will be held in trust for her and for our children. Only a small portion will be used for our living expenses, and that only until such time as my investment begins to pay dividends.”

Shelton nodded. “And the rest? Did you tell him about yesterday afternoon?”

“Every last damning detail.” The look on Newcastle’s face when he learned what Shelton and Raynesford had encountered was not something Noah would soon forget. He counted himself lucky that all three of the men in Tabitha’s life seemed content to settle the matter through marriage instead of drawing pistols at dawn.

Shelton let out a bark of laughter. “You could have just told him we caught you kissing her. You didn’t need to tell him everything.”

“I didn’t know how much he had already been told. I couldn’t take the risk that he knew more than I wished to divulge.” That was not the way Noah wanted to begin this new stage in their relationship. His future father-in-law deserved the truth, despite how exceedingly uncomfortable it was to deliver.

“So how soon will the blessed event take place? Should I plan a visit to Doctor’s Commons?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Noah replied. “Newcastle agreed that rushing through things with a special license would only raise speculation when no one knows what happened outside of family and Lord Leith. He believes Leith will keep our confidence. Also, Mother and Glastonbury’s wedding will take place in only three days’ time. As long as Tabitha consents to the timing, we’ll have the banns called on Sunday, and then have a formal announcement to the ton at the wedding breakfast.”

“As long as Tabitha consents?” Shelton repeated in a disdainful tone. “You have to convince her to consent. I like you, Devonport, I truly do. You’re a good man. You’ll be very good for Tabitha—I’ve thought that all along. You see her for herself. I’d hazard a guess that you’ve even come to love her. I don’t want to hurt you. Don’t force me to. Convince her.”

“Point taken.” Noah glanced over to the clock on the opposite wall. Newcastle had left to speak to Tabitha more than an hour ago, and still neither of them had returned. He was growing more and more restless by the moment.

Shelton followed Noah’s gaze. “I’m sure it won’t be much longer. There are only so many ways Father can say ‘Do it or else.’ Which should help your cause in convincing her.”

This was torture—unadulterated, unmitigated, and unqualified torture. He’d wanted to persuade Tabitha to marry him of his own merits, not have her hand forced in the matter. Of all the manners in which to start out his marriage, Noah could think of none he would have preferred less than the one he was currently facing.

Finally, a soft tick sounded as the door opened. Noah rose abruptly as Tabitha stood hesitant at the threshold.

“I’ll just leave you two to it then.” Shelton slipped out of the room, stopping for a moment to kiss his sister on her forehead. When he scooted her along until she was inside the library, she passed him a deathly glare. Shelton winked at Noah and then pulled the doors closed behind him.

Late afternoon sunlight poured through the windows and landed upon Tabitha, bathing her in a warm, ethereal glow that only enhanced the peachy tone of both her gown and her skin. The image of her naked in a pool of the sun’s rays formed unbidden in his mind, her perfect, rounded breasts awash in a golden aura. Noah’s breath hitched; his pulse made a mad dash through his veins, like the galloping clop of Perceval’s hooves when given his head.

For the first time in his life, he understood what Shakespeare had been thinking and seeing when he wrote about his beloved being more lovely and temperate than a summer’s day.

Noah started to cross the room to her, but Tabitha stayed him with a brief shake of the head. “Have a seat, Lord Devonport.” She situated herself in a leather armchair positioned off on its own, eliminating his chance to seat her beside him on the sofa.

Perhaps he could convince her to join him in a moment. He took up that station in the hope that he’d have just such an opportunity. “Tabitha—”

“Lady Tabitha, my lord.”

Surely they’d come far past such formalities by now. She would be his wife before the month was out, by which time she’d be Lady Devonport, anyway, and not Lady Tabitha. Still, now was not the time to split hairs. He started again with, “Lady Tabitha—”

“I see no reason to beat around the bush,” she interrupted him again.

Tabitha folded her hands together on her lap in the manner of an overly prim and proper governess, much like Miss Stroud who had instructed his sisters. He’d always thought of her as Miss Stout, however—stout and stalwart. The only thing Tabitha lacked was the dismal gray worsted gown and starchy white mobcap atop her head. Thank God she’d neglected to don such terrible garments. He might never have removed the image from his mind, otherwise.

“Let’s get straight to the point, shall we? You’re here to propose.”

Very well. Two could play her game. “Indeed. As you’re here to accept.”

“That remains to be seen. I want to know how you intend to support me.”

By gad. “I’ve already discussed all of the arrangements with your father. We’ve agreed on the terms of the marriage contract. I can assure you, everything is in order.”

Tabitha arched an eyebrow at him in the same manner her brothers seemed to have refined—somehow both dubious and authoritative at the same time. “That is all very well and good, sir. But my father is not the one who may or may not be standing before an altar next to you and promising to love and obey. Perhaps it would behoove you to share such details with the lady in question.”

Noah shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. He’d never discussed financial matters with a lady before. It was a gentleman’s responsibility to the ladies in his life to manage such things. His father had stressed the importance of never allowing the women in the family to know if there were monetary concerns, as it was nothing they should ever be forced to worry about.

But Tabitha was not his mother or one of his sisters. She was the lady he intended to marry. She deserved to know everything, and clearly she would settle for no less.

He took a breath and started. “I’ve made arrangements with my man of business to invest in a shipping enterprise. Most of the funds left to the Devonport marquessate will be tied up in this endeavor. As such, we—you and I—will use a small portion of your dowry for our day-to-day needs until the time that my investment can provide for those expenses.”

Crossing her arms over her chest and pushing up that glorious bosom, she asked, “How much?”

“Pardon?” Noah was having difficulty taking his eyes from the lovely display she had just enhanced and focusing on the conversation. Gradually, he forced his gaze to return to her face.

She frowned. “If I do agree to marry you, how much of my dowry will be used for this purpose?”

“Oh. Right. Twenty percent.” Swallowing had become rather difficult, after thinking of all the things he wanted to do with her breasts.

“And the remainder?” Tabitha licked her lips, an unconscious gesture, and Noah thought he might have to sit on his hands to keep them from her person.

“Thirty percent will be placed in a trust for you. The other fifty percent will be placed in trust for our future children. Once the dividends from my investment can support us, I will return that twenty percent to the children’s trust.”

“And if your investment fares poorly?”

He hadn’t wanted to think of such a prospect. Indeed, Lord Newcastle had not even troubled to ask such a question. He couldn’t just make up an answer on the spot. He couldn’t lie to her. “I don’t know,” he answered.

Tabitha’s lovely silver eyes widened nearly to the size of a teacup. “You don’t know? What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean I haven’t thought that far ahead. You’re right in that it could happen. If it comes to pass, then I suppose we’ll just have to figure things out from there.”

“Am I to interpret this ‘we’ to mean yourself and my father? Or perhaps my brothers?” Her tone had gone from imperious to sardonic.

“No. By ‘we,’ I meant you and me. Because, as you were so kind as to mention earlier, you are the one who will be standing across from me at the altar, promising to love and obey me, not your father or brothers.”

“Might,” she insisted.

“Will,” he corrected.

Tabitha narrowed her eyes shrewdly at him, but refrained from countering him again. “You would allow me to assist in making such decisions? That is hardly conventional.”

“I suppose it isn’t. But yes, I think you should play a role in determining our future.”

“So if I were to suggest that forty percent of my dowry ought to be held out instead of twenty, and half of it should be used to increase the profits drawn from your current properties, how would you respond?” She held out her hands and pretended to inspect her fingernails in a nonchalant manner. “Hypothetically speaking, of course. This would all be dependent upon my acceptance of your proposal. Which, I might remind you, is not a foregone conclusion. Particularly since you’ve yet to actually propose.”

Noah couldn’t hold back his smile. Her demeanor—previously akin to an arctic frost—was beginning to thaw. Perhaps discussing these matters with her, as an equal, was just what she needed in order to go along with the marriage willingly. “If you were to suggest such a thing—hypothetically—I would gladly go to your father to negotiate a change to the marriage contract. Right away, in fact.” He started to rise to prove his willingness.

“Don’t go scampering off to my father just yet,” Tabitha warned. The imperious tone had returned. He was beginning to find it peculiarly alluring. “I have more questions.”

What more could she possibly want to know? But he would have to satisfy her inquisitiveness or she would never agree. “Go on. I’m all yours.” In more ways than she was willing to concede.

Edging forward on her chair, she asked, “How did you come to be in such a poor financial state? Why should I believe we will not end up in the poorhouse, with creditors knocking down our door, in a few months’ time?”

Here was yet another question her father had not deigned to ask. That fact rankled, actually. Not that Tabitha would be so impertinent as to ask such a question, but that Newcastle had neglected to do so. Was the man so blasé about his daughter and her prospects that he would allow her to marry any man, even if the union would be to her detriment? Or was it merely that he already knew and trusted Noah?

“My father inherited the marquessate from a distant uncle,” Noah said. “Until the day he learned of his uncle’s death, Father had owned a small plot of land—small according to the aristocracy—that he worked in order to support our family. Suddenly, he owned vast holdings and no longer needed to work so hard. He was able to spend his time and energy in taking care of all of us and our needs, and he did so perhaps to the exclusion of looking after his properties. He wasn’t intentionally a spendthrift—not at all. But the previous marquess had been, and a gambler to boot. Father neglected to notice how dire the situation had become until he was nearly on his deathbed. At that point, it was too late.

“So when I inherited from him, I also inherited the massive pile of debts. I made sure I had enough set aside to secure my sisters their marriages. I sold everything I could, and I cut back the staffs at all of the entailed estates, to avoid any unnecessary expense. Looking back, I ought to have invested my depleting funds sooner than I have done, so I would not be in such a dire situation now. But I didn’t.”

“Why not?” Tabitha asked. Her tone was one of curiosity, not of accusation. She had been sitting and listening without interruption far longer than he’d expected she would.

“I suppose because I wanted to see all of my sisters happily married before I worried about such things. Perhaps I was merely trying to delay the inevitable, and put it off until it was all but too late. Does that sufficiently answer your questions?”

A brisk nod was his answer. Her expression did not betray her decision, whether he had answered her well enough that she would betroth herself to him. He couldn’t delay any longer.

Noah crossed the room to her and dropped to his knee, taking her hand into his. “Tabitha, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

She looked down at him. A virtual war appeared to be taking place within her eyes as they flashed and flickered before him. Several long moments passed and still she had not responded. Finally, when he thought she must not have heard his question, that maybe he had only asked her in his mind but not aloud, she spoke.

“Perhaps.”

Perhaps? What in God’s name did that mean? He gawked at her, unable to lift his jaw from where it had imbedded itself somewhere near the tassels of his Hessians.

“I need more time,” Tabitha continued after a few moments. “I want time to get to know you better, as a man, and for you to know me better as a woman. I want for you to court me, and only me, for the next fortnight. If, after that time, I am sufficiently persuaded that your affections are indeed for me and not merely for my dowry, then I’ll accept your proposal. If however, I believe you want my portion more than you want me, then I will decline.”

It was Noah’s turn to arch a brow in her direction. “And you’ll allow only me to court you during this period as well? You’ll eschew all other suitors?”

A thin line set in over her nose between her eyebrows. “Very well.”

This wasn’t precisely what he’d hoped to be the outcome, but things were looking far more cheerful than he feared they might. “I’ll agree to your terms on one condition.” He waited for her nod to continue. “We’ll have the banns called tomorrow.”

Tabitha shot out of her chair and made for the door. “Absolutely not!”

Noah rushed to catch her, grabbing hold of her elbow to stop her from leaving. “Wait. I wasn’t finished. We’ll have the banns called tomorrow, and we’ll announce our betrothal at my mother’s wedding—which you’ll attend at my side.” Her eyes could burn holes through him they were so fiery, but he pressed on. “When the fortnight has come to a close one of two things will happen: we will marry right away, if I have proven myself to you, or I will cry off if you deem me unworthy to be your husband.”

She sucked in a gasp of surprise. “Cry off? But you would be shunned by the ton for such a thing. You’d never find another lady to accept you. It just isn’t done.”

He nodded. “I am well aware of that. Do you accept my terms?”

“Yes, my lord,” she whispered, sliding her tongue along her lips again.

“Good,” Noah replied. God, he wanted to taste her again. He couldn’t stop looking at her luscious lips. She would drive him to distraction with her tongue if she didn’t stop that soon. Before he could stop himself, he leaned in for a brief, possessive kiss. “I have one more requirement. Call me Noah.”

“Cheers,” Tabitha called out along with the rest of the wedding guests, holding her glass aloft as Noah resumed his seat by her side. She took a sip when he turned to her, an expectant smile on his lips. Champagne bubbled and fizzed in her mouth and she held it there longer than necessary, allowing the sweet decadence to envelop her senses.

He gestured to his mother and Lord Glastonbury. “That will be us in a couple of weeks.”

Tabitha gave him a solid frown. “Might,” she amended quietly. She didn’t want anyone to overhear. Particularly not Owen or Elaine, who sat just to her left. Or, for that matter, any of Noah’s other sisters and their husbands, who filled out the rest of the table.

Noah leaned in, allowing his breath to feather over her ear. “Will,” he whispered.

Blast him for always needing to have the last word.

“Have you tried the strawberries?” he asked. “They’re delicious with a bit of that clotted cream. They’re so good they should be illegal.”

“Illegal?” Tabitha scoffed.

Noah reached across and selected a berry from the dish. “Of course, illegal. Anything this good is bound to be debauched.” He dipped the berry in the clotted cream and then put it in Tabitha’s mouth.

A blush scorched the back of her neck at his intimacy and turned to hide her face from the crowd. When she had swallowed the bite and found her voice again, she shot him her frostiest glare. “That was highly inappropriate. Behave yourself.”

He flashed a roguish grin. “Since when is it inappropriate for a gentleman to offer his fiancée a bite to eat?”

“The offer was hardly the problem, as I’m sure you’re aware.” Tabitha reached for a napkin and dabbed at the corners of her mouth.

His eyes twinkled at her in mischievous merriment, and he waggled his brows. She purposefully turned away from him and looked at the plate before her.

“I suppose it would be even more unseemly of me to kiss you right now, then, would it not? You’re the most ravishing thing I’ve ever seen, with the way you color so easily.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Tabitha ventured a glance in his direction and laughed. “You would dare. Oh, good heavens, you are utterly incorrigible.”

“That’s why you love me.” Noah slipped his hand beneath the table and gently laid it upon her knee. All the blood in her body seemed to rush to that spot, leaving her lightheaded.

She had to look away from him. He’d melt her to a puddle on the floor if she kept looking at him while he touched her like that. “I’ve never said I love you,” Tabitha said softly.

His hand pressed against her knee gently. “No. But you do.”

Tabitha shivered despite herself. “You’re very sure of yourself, my lord.” He was very sure of something Tabitha wasn’t entirely certain of...but she feared he was right.

“I’ve asked you to call me Noah. And yes, I’m sure of this.”

“Why?”

Noah’s voice lowered, to that rich, rumbling baritone she only heard when he wanted her. “Because you kiss me like a woman who loves a man. Because you haven’t slapped my hand away, even though touching you like this is unacceptable.” He leaned closer. “Because you answered me with perhaps instead of with an outright no.” He took another bite of shirred eggs and turned to answer Lord Glastonbury’s question.

“You do love him,” Owen said on her other side. “Trying to fight it won’t do you any good. It’s easier to just give in.” He gestured toward Elaine. “Trust me. I know.”

Tabitha felt herself color even further. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough. I already knew his hand was on your knee.”

“Oh, damn and blast.” She pinched her eyes closed. Noah’s hand moved ever so slightly up her leg to reposition over her lower thigh and he squeezed again. Jolts of awareness pooled between her legs.

“I won’t say anything to anyone. You are engaged to be married.” The tinkle of silver meeting china sounded on Owen’s plate. “But what’s this business about ‘perhaps’?”

“It was her answer yesterday when I asked if she loved me,” Noah said, returning his attention their way and saving her the awkwardness of coming up with an appropriate answer her brother would believe.

Tabitha took another sip from her champagne. The musicians had moved to the dais and begun the semi-melodic cacophony that signaled they would soon begin to play.

“Are you ready?” Noah asked in her ear. His hand slipped around behind her to settle at her waist. “Glastonbury suggested to your father that we should make the announcement just before the dancing begins.”

Prickles of disquiet formed gooseflesh on her skin. It had been nerve-wracking enough to sit placidly in her pew on Sunday as the parson had read the banns, knowing that word would spread throughout the ton as instantly as an inferno raging to life once the service came to a close. Then there had been the past several afternoons, with friends and acquaintances all coming to offer her their congratulations, alongside the gossips and scandalmongers.

The only portions of those afternoons that had been palatable were the rare instances when she and Noah were alone in Father’s drawing room. He had charmed her with honeyed words and thinly veiled hunger to the point that she had begun to question herself. Perhaps she ought to just give in, to trust the desirous part of her soul and ignore the part that continued to warn his ardor would cool once her dowry was in his grasp, however commonplace those warnings had become of late.

Lord Glastonbury and his new Lady Glastonbury stood across from them and moved out to the center of the room, which had been cleared for dancing. Holding out his hand for Tabitha to take, Noah rose to join them. “Come. They want us to share the first dance with them.”

She walked along at his side, one arm entwined with his, in a daze from the whirling emotions wreaking havoc on her mind. Somewhere in her consciousness, she became aware of Owen and Elaine following them, of Father off to the side of the dais with Toby beside him, of Jo and Lord Leith joining the crowd to celebrate the union of Lord Glastonbury and Noah’s mother.

Glastonbury called for the crowd’s attention and a hush fell on the room, aside from the crash of waves sounding in Tabitha’s ears.

After a moment, she felt the rumble of Noah’s voice reverberating through his body from beneath her fingertips, and she knew he was making their announcement. A chorus of cheers rang out, with the applause echoing in the cavernous grand hall of deLancie house. And then Noah swept her into his arms and whisked her around the room in a waltz. He pulled her scandalously close, and she felt his arousal pressing its heat into her belly.

“You’re being overly familiar,” she complained. “Half the ton is watching.”

“Smile, Tabitha,” he said. “This is a celebration, not a funeral.”

If only he could understand. Tabitha was in mourning. She’d lost a rather significant piece of herself forever.

The part which believed no man would ever want her.

Mother and Glastonbury had left to begin their honeymoon a quarter of an hour ago and, apart from family, only a few stragglers lingered. Miss Faulkner stood next to the remnants of the cake, casting her ever astute eyes over the room.  When she thought no one was looking, she dipped her finger first into the frosting and then into her mouth.

Noah stifled a chuckle as he made his way across to her. He required her assistance, so it wouldn’t do to have her think he was laughing at her. Even if he was doing precisely that.

“Have you enjoyed yourself this morning, Miss Faulkner?”

She jumped slightly at his question, but hastily covered her surprise at his appearance by her side. “It was a lovely wedding and breakfast, my lord. Thank you for inviting me. And give my thanks to your mother and Lord Glastonbury as well.”

Noah smiled. “I’ll be sure to do that.” He dipped another strawberry in cream and ate it. “Tabitha’s birthday is coming up, is it not?”

Miss Faulkner gave him an arch look. “Why do I get the impression that you’re fishing for information?”

“Now I see where Tabitha acquired her penchant for answering questions with more questions. Or is that something you’ve picked up from her?”

With a cluck of her tongue, she said, “You’re a cheeky one, aren’t you? That’s good. She needs someone who can keep her on her toes. Very well, I’ll concede this round. Tabitha’s birthday is in two days.”

“Thank you. I promise to let you take the next bout.”

“That’s very kind of you, my lord,” Miss Faulkner said equably, “but I can promise you I don’t need anyone to let me win. Give me your best barbs, and I promise you I’ll dish back better than I get.”

Noah laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind. May I ask one more favor?”

“Ask away.”

“I need to know what I can give to her, or what I can do for her, to make her feel loved. What is the thing she wants more than anything else?”

Miss Faulkner colored up prettily. “I shouldn’t tell you this.” She lowered her voice and leaned close to him, so no one could overhear. “She’ll know that I’m the one who told you, and I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Please? Don’t make me beg you. I need to know.” It might be the one thing to turn the tide in his favor.

She wrung her hands and glanced around to see who was nearby. “I’ll tell you, but you will owe me a favor in future.”

“Anything you want that is in my power to grant,” Noah promised.

Miss Faulkner nodded, still casting her eyes about. “Poetry.”

He couldn’t have heard her correctly. “Poetry?”

“Yes. Tabitha is quite the romantic, my lord.”

“Does she have a favorite poet, perhaps?” he asked. “Byron? Keats? I suppose I could read some poetry to her on her birthday.”

“Oh, no, no, no. You misunderstand me, Lord Devonport.” Miss Faulkner looked across at him with a wholly sincere expression. “She desperately wants a gentleman to write a poem for her. And to recite it to her. In front of her entire family. There is nothing her heart desires more.”

“You’re joking.” She had to be. “Aren’t you?”

“As earnest as the plague.”

By Jove.

For the first time in her now twenty-nine years, Tabitha thought she might escape her birthday fete without experiencing the desire to strangle a member of her family as they slept. Even Toby had been on his best behavior all day, not even bothering to needle her more than a few times.

The family supper had just come to an end, and Father’s liveried footmen were carefully removing the Wedgwood china dessert plates. While things seemed well within her family, however, she’d noticed some queer occurrences with regard to Noah. Several times during the course of the meal, Tabitha had caught a glimpse of him looking across to Jo, almost as though seeking reassurance.

Try as she might, Tabitha could think of nothing—nothing at all—about which Jo ought to be encouraging Noah. This could only mean one thing: Jo had accepted Noah as part of the family already.

And if Tabitha knew anything at all about her dearest cousin, it was that Jo always did anything and everything possible to torment the men in the family. She was far more sincere about the perceived responsibility than Tabitha and Bethanne combined.

Some havey-cavey business or another was afoot, Tabitha was sure of it. Something else of which she was sure: Noah was in trouble. Depending upon how serious Noah’s trouble turned out to be, Jo would have the devil to pay...unless Tabitha was somehow able to weasel the truth out of her cousin and stop it before it happened.

She couldn’t very well do that with Noah sitting beside her and Jo all the way down the vast dining table, however. Tabitha smiled and called out to the table at large, “Ladies, shall we adjourn to the parlor and leave the gentlemen to their port?” A footman rushed forward to pull out her chair. She rose and the other ladies followed suit.

Blast, this was one of those moments she loathed having such a mammoth family. Tabitha wanted to hurriedly link her arm with Jo’s, but her cousin latched on to Miranda on one side and Aunt Vanessa—Miranda and Bethanne’s mother—on the other, making Tabitha’s plan impossible. She’d have to wait until they were in the parlor. Jo couldn’t avoid her the rest of the night.

Lavinia, Jo’s older sister, took Tabitha’s arm and dragged her along. “Quite the catch,” she said appreciatively. “Lord Devonport is a handsome devil, isn’t he? I always knew you’d make a good match for yourself once you gave up on all that old maid foolishness.”

“Thank you,” Tabitha murmured. Was that an appropriate response? There was no telling, with Lavinia. “Any idea what your sister is up to?”

“Oh, the usual. Avoiding Lord Leith and pretending she’s better off without him.” Lavinia said nothing about what Jo might be doing to Noah, though. Clearly, she didn’t know. Not that Tabitha had expected any differently. Lavinia had never been part of their schemes and plans before, so why should it be any different now?

They passed the grand stairway and turned down a wide corridor, then entered the parlor. Tabitha’s mother had decorated it years before, filling it with Louis XIV chairs and plush ottomans, covering the walls with silk to go alongside the silk draperies, and decorating with bronze statues of Greek gods alongside marble busts of Mozart and Haydn. The parlor had always felt overly decadent to Tabitha—lavishness and opulence to the extreme.

When they made their way inside, Lavinia excused herself to speak with her sister-in-law, Helen, and Elaine. Tabitha located Jo seated by the bay window, surrounded by her mother and Bethanne’s sister-in-law, Arabella. A sinking feeling settled in Tabitha’s stomach that Jo was intentionally avoiding her.

With everyone else occupied, Tabitha took up conversation with Miranda and Aunt Vanessa, taking a glass of sherry from the passing footman’s tray. She hardly paid attention to what the two were saying—something about the gathering of soldiers near Vienna, a subject which couldn’t be further from Tabitha’s mind at the moment—and she never took her eyes from Jo. The moment she saw her duplicitous cousin alone, Tabitha intended to pounce.

But minutes ticked by, and then the door to the parlor opened again. Tabitha’s chance had passed her by; the gentlemen had finished with their port and cheroots and now flooded into the parlor, filling the delicate space with their bulkier frames. Noah took up position beside her, easing his hand to the back of her waist as he’d been wont to do of late in a half-possessive, half-protective gesture that invariably instigated a bout of gooseflesh on the skin of her arms.

Miranda’s husband, Lord Pickford, joined them, followed by her brother, Isaac. Noah eased himself into the conversation with practiced charm. Tabitha studied him instead of the discussion. He looked none the worse for wear after his time with the Shelton men, so clearly whatever web Jo had been spinning to trap him had not yet come to pass.

After several minutes had passed, out of the corner of her eye, Tabitha noticed Jo get up from her seat and sidle over to where Tabitha’s father stood. She whispered something in his ear, and then resumed her seat.

Father finished the conversation he was having with his brother, Jasper, and then cleared his throat for silence. “Josephine has issued me a gentle reminder that we’ve yet to give Tabitha and Tobias their gifts. Shall we proceed with that?”

“Why don’t we gift Toby with a kick in the arse on his way out the door?” Patrick, Jo’s youngest brother, called out to the general laughter of the room.

Uncle Thad cuffed him on the ear. “Mind your language in front of the ladies.”

“They’re family, not ladies,” Patrick grumbled beneath his breath, garnering a scowl from his father and a series of snickers from most of the rest. “And they’d likely all step in line to do the kicking, if we’d let them.”

He had a point.

Father chose to ignore the side conversation and proceeded with the gift-giving. He handed Tabitha and Toby each a package, which they ripped into. Toby’s held a pocket watch (“So you can no longer complain you did not know the time when I ask you why you are infernally late,” their father had said) and Tabitha’s contained a set of pearl and garnet ear bobs. Soon, they were both inundated with package after package until Tabitha could no longer remember who had given what to whom.

When Tabitha and Toby had opened all of their gifts and thanked everyone graciously, Uncle Jasper and Aunt Vanessa stood to take their leave, followed soon behind by Christopher and Helen. Noah rose from his seat beside Tabitha on the sofa. “Please don’t leave just yet,” he said, and they all turned to look questioningly at him. “There is one more gift yet to be given.”

He took a knee before Tabitha and pulled one of her hands into his own, sending the color racing up the back of her neck and depositing itself high in her cheeks. This could not be good. Oh, damn and blast, she would have to smother Jo with a pillow if Noah made a cake of himself in front of the entire family. Surely, her influence was involved here. “I understand you have always wanted a gentleman to write a poem for you,” he began.

“I have?” Tabitha couldn’t stop herself from blurting out. Good God in heaven, he could not do this. Not here. Not now, with the entire family looking on.

Over near the hearth, Owen and Toby snickered, earning them each an elbow in the ribs from Elaine. Patrick was not so subtle—he let out a loud guffaw, and his brother, Graham, choked on a sip of port he’d snuck under his father’s nose into the parlor.

“Ignore them, Lord Devonport,” Jo called out. “These imbeciles haven’t a romantic bone in their bodies.” Tabitha glared across at her.

Noah hesitated only for a brief moment. “I took it upon myself to compose one for you. I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

“I assure you, this is entirely unnecessary,” Tabitha rushed out quietly. “Perhaps it would be best to do this without an audience.”

His jaw was set, though, and his eyes sincere. Lud, he was going to do it.

“Amidst the gems of life’s elite, a paragon on the edge awaits—”

At Uncle Jasper’s unabashed cackle, Tabitha had to act. She pushed abruptly to her feet, forcing herself to ignore at least for the moment the pained expression in Noah’s eyes as he stood beside her. “Stop it. Stop this right now. This is very poor form, from the lot of you.”

“This isn’t what you wanted,” Noah murmured where only Tabitha could hear him. “I’m sorry. I should have asked you.”

“Oh, come off it, Tabitha,” Toby said. “A little ribbing never hurt anyone.”

“A little ribbing? You’re trying to humiliate him. And me. I’ll not stand for it.”

“If Lord Devonport can’t handle a bit of playfulness, how will he ever last as part of this family?” Jo asked.

Tabitha planted her hands on her hips, directing the brunt of her wrath in Jo’s direction. “He’s done perfectly well since Elaine and Owen married. I hardly think anything needs to change now.” She couldn’t let them torment him in such a way. Noah was unaccustomed to the particular brand of teasing banter her family often used as a twisted sign of their affection. Placing her hand on his arm, Tabitha led him toward the door. “Excuse us, please. We’re leaving.”

Noah didn’t follow her immediately, so she tugged on his arm. “Where are we going?” he asked, but she didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer. She didn’t know where she was taking him, other than away from her irksome family. Finally, he gave in and went along with her. She wound her way through the halls of her father’s town house, until they reached the servants’ kitchen exit leading out to the back gardens. Tabitha didn’t stop there; she kept walking through the winding paths, taking Noah past fountains and trellises, and the statues of cherubim dotting the way, until she reached a pillared portico covered in white roses with a stone bench beneath it.

She drew to such a sudden stop that Noah nearly tripped. “I’m sorry,” she said, turning to face him in the shadowy half-light of dusk. “I’m sorry Jo is so meddlesome, and I’m sorry my brothers and cousins are inconsiderate boors, and I’m sorry—”

Noah cut her off by placing a finger to her lips. “Hush. Stop apologizing to me.”

“But they were ghastly to treat you in such a way.”

He chuckled. “I’d be more cross if they hadn’t. They were accepting me into the fold, Tabitha. Something they are more prepared to do than you, it seems.” He searched her eyes in the shrouded moonlight. “Miss Faulkner was just clearing the way for me to be your husband—to more officially become part of the family.”

“Still, she oughtn’t to have done it.” A breeze blew over them, teasing at the hair coming loose from a knot at her neck and Tabitha shivered.

Moving both his arms down to her waist, Noah drew her closer to him, almost in an embrace. “Was it all a ruse?” he asked. “Have you not been longing for a gentleman to write you a romantic poem?”

This, more than the rest, was the true stinging point.

“Ah,” he said when she did not respond right away. “I see. Well, if I must be a fool, at least I can be a fool for love.”

Tabitha spoke over him in a rush. “I do enjoy poetry, Noah, I really do. I’ve never known anyone to make such a chivalrous gesture, certainly not for me. Will you allow me to hear the rest of it?”

A wry grin came to his lips and he winked. “Yes, I suppose I can...now that we’re without all of your relatives around to gibe at me as I recite it.”

A moment of spontaneous abandon overtook her, and Tabitha stretched up on her toes to kiss him. It was a chaste kiss, hardly more than a peck and certainly a far cry from the other kisses they had shared.

“Will I deserve another of those when I finish?” Noah asked. “Or do I have to write another poem in order to warrant a second kiss?”

Thankfully, the growing gloom of twilight served to conceal her blush as she said, “This poem will suffice for such a prize.”

Noah guided her to sit on the stone bench, then took a seat next to her, again taking her hand in his own. As he gazed into her eyes, Tabitha’s heart sprinted and her breath caught.

“Amidst the gems of life’s elite

A paragon on the edge awaits

For one to notice and defeat

The dictates of the fabled Fates

Patiently, she plays the part

Resigned to never glow or shine

Yet underneath resides a heart

As wondrous as the world’s design

Through silvery orbs, her soul bequeaths

The essence of life’s boundless drive

Liberating breath beneath

My chest until at last I thrive

Akin to God’s own pure white dove

The beauty of my ladylove.”

Tears sprung to her eyes, but she managed to keep them there. Never in her life had she allowed herself to think a man would do such a thing for her. “That was lovely.” She leaned across and cradled Noah’s face in her hand, placing her lips to his. “Thank you.”

“Happy birthday, Tabitha.” Noah put both hands on Tabitha’s face and drew her back for a long, languorous kiss that built her to a slow burn. “The next time I write you a poem, it will be just between us.”

Tabitha couldn’t miss the inherent promise in his statement. He intended there to be a next poem—another moment just between them. And despite herself, she desperately wanted it.

“I publish the Banns of Marriage between Noah Standish deLancie, Lord Devonport of Haverthwaite, Cumberland and Lady Tabitha Eleanor Shelton of Cotehill, Cumberland. If any of you know just cause, or just impediment, why these two persons should not be joined together in holy Matrimony, you are to declare it. This is the third time of asking.”

A trill of trepidation coursed through Tabitha’s body at the parson’s words. The third calling of the banns meant only one thing: her fortnight was up. If Tabitha didn’t cry off, her wedding would be in held in three days’ time, right here in this very church.

Beside her, Noah took her hand and gently squeezed. Damn him, he knew her too well. He could always sense her mood, whether she wanted him to or not. That was one trait she wished, more than anything, he did not share with Jo.

She tried to remove her hand from Noah’s—such a display was unseemly in a church, of all places—but his grip held firm. When she tugged again, more forcefully this time, he resituated their joined hands on his lap with a flourish, drawing the eyes of her entire family and half the congregation. Even the parson looked up at the commotion. Tabitha knew her face had to be as bright as a raspberry.

Perhaps she shouldn’t try that one again. Who knew what Noah would do the next time? So she sat there, with her hand enveloped in his, for the next hour as the parson delivered a sermon on the message of love in 1 Corinthians 13.

Patience and kindness—Noah gave them both to her in abundance. Freedom from envy, boastfulness, and pride? She’d known him for many years now, and had never seen evidence of a boastful nature. He was far more likely to bolster another than to vaunt his own consequence. And would a proud man have lowered himself to deliver such a poem before her family? Hardly. The envy part of the equation was still up for debate, however. Tabitha had seen Noah’s response to Lord Oglethorpe’s pursuit all too often over the past month. But was that envy, or was it more the aspect of love that always protects, hopes, and perseveres?

The section about keeping no record of wrongs, however, was a sticking point. Not where Noah was concerned, however. Tabitha was the guilty party there. She’d held him responsible for the actions of other men in her past, when he had done nothing to deserve her animosity or distrust. Indeed, he had never failed to prove himself worthy and true.

And love never fails.

Suddenly, Tabitha became aware of Noah’s thumb tracing circles over her palm where it lay lax on his lap. But this time, the swirls flowing through her body were not those of lust, heating her body’s need. Damnation, he had gone and made her fall in love with him.

It was more than just that, though. Everything he had done over the last month, every interaction they’d had over the previous fortnight, had served to prove that he truly loved her too. Why, just yesterday, he and Owen had taken Tabitha and Elaine to see Owen’s newest foals at the stables. There was no mention of riding. He only wanted her to enjoy the youthful horses as they were.

Noah didn’t just want her dowry. He didn’t even just want her body. He wanted her. Tabitha. Just as she was.

What a blithering idiot she’d been.

The parson brought his sermon to a close and dismissed them. Noah let go of her hand and moved his to her waist in that protective-possessive manner he had. Then he pulled her to her feet. “Shall we go?”

He drew her along beside him, propelling her feet forward with a gentle pressure on her back, until they stood before the parson under the entryway. “And a good day to you both, my lord, my lady. I’ll see you on Wednesday morning then.”

“That you will, Mr. Hyde,” Noah said. He winked down at Tabitha and pulled her out the door. Her father and Toby were waiting by the carriage while Owen helped Elaine and Lily climb in. When they moved closer, Noah said to her father, “If it is all right with you, I’ll take Tabitha home in my carriage.”

Father narrowed his eyes at Noah for just a moment. “Very well. We’ll expect you for luncheon then.” Toby winked at Tabitha, and then they both took their places in Father’s crested coach and closed the door.

Noah’s driver brought his carriage around. A closed carriage today, not a curricle or something in which she could be seen from the outside. They’d be secluded once they were inside. Alone. There would be no escape from giving the answer she knew he’d beg from her.

Once the steps were set down, Noah took her hand and assisted her in before climbing up behind her. He sat across from her, not next to her. She felt uncommonly bereft at his absence by her side. But then he rapped his knuckle against the roof and the vehicle lurched into motion.

“So,” Noah began.

He’d worn blue today—a rich blue superfine overcoat over buff breeches and a stark white shirt and neck cloth. Everything about him was sheer perfection, from the sparkling, smiling blue eyes to the starch in his cravat, save the always mussed hair. Even that, to Tabitha, was perfection.

“You’ve had a fortnight. The banns have been called. We’ve each held up our end of the bargain. Are you prepared to give me an answer?”

Tabitha looked into the crashing waves of his eyes. They were filled with love—the same love the parson had been preaching about all morning. The same love Noah had shown her every day over the last month—maybe even a lot longer than that, if she’d taken the time to notice. The love she’d somehow been afraid to see. “Yes,” she said. She couldn’t deny him any longer. She would probably never be able to deny him anything ever again.

“Yes, you’re ready to answer me?” His voice broke at the end. She’d tormented him far too long.

“No. Well, yes to that, too. But yes, I’ll marry you.”

A gust of pent-up air flooded from Noah’s lungs. With a single, rapid motion, he grabbed hold of her hands and tugged, pulling her halfway on top of him. Tabitha’s eyes flew wide and her lips landed on his as they came together, and he kissed her with ardent devotion. After a moment, he let out a little growl in his throat and set her on the velvet-covered bench next to him. “I can’t keep kissing you like that or I’ll take you right here in the carriage.”

Tabitha struggled to catch her breath. “Why would that be a problem?”

He closed his eyes and removed her hand from where it had landed mid-way up his thigh to her own lap. “We’re supposed to be having luncheon with your father once we get you back home. Or had you already forgotten?”

“I might have wanted to forget, I suppose,” Tabitha murmured with a blush.

His eyes roamed over her. “I love it when you color up like that. It makes me w—” Within the span of a hair’s breadth, he moved himself to the opposite bench and pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing his eyes closed. “By gad. I can’t talk about that. I can’t even think about that. Not now. Not here.”

This was getting to be a little ridiculous. “Why not?” Tabitha asked silkily. She slid into position beside him, placing her hand back where it had been on his thigh. He jumped at her contact—and her eyes caught a jump somewhere else.

“Three days,” Noah choked out. “Three days, and then this can happen. But not here. Not now.”

“But if it is only three days, why not here and now?” Ever so slowly, Tabitha inched her hand up his thigh. He watched her progress with turbulent eyes. When she was just below the apex, she stopped.

Noah let out a ragged breath. He pulled her hand away and held it tight, and with the other hand he held her head firm so she could not look away if she’d wanted to. “Because I love you. We can’t do this now because I love you, and you are to be my wife. The Marchioness of Devonport will not be treated like a common trollop, like a lightskirt to be tossed about at will anywhere that can boast a modicum of privacy. Not by me or anyone else. You deserve better than that.” He let her go, then once again shifted to the opposite seat. “Now stay on your side of the coach.” With a yank, he adjusted his overcoat, attempting to pull it into a position in which it could hide the growing evidence of his desire.

Tabitha tried to force her attention elsewhere. She didn’t want to embarrass him. And she didn’t want to allow her imagination to run rampant. After several moments of silently staring at the luxurious fabrics lining the inside of the coach, Tabitha tentatively said, “Noah?”

With his hands still firmly holding the edge of his coat in place, he made a sound similar to one of Owen’s grunts. She took that to mean she should continue.

“I love you, too.”

Dusk settled over the congregated party at Vauxhall, casting Tabitha in an ethereal glow. She’d worn a silvery gown this evening, some sort of silky, gossamer with lace trimmings that twinkled like stars in the growing moonlight, much as her eyes did. She’d had that sort of glimmer in her eyes almost constantly since the day before—since she’d finally confessed that she loved him, and nearly drove him mad with need. It was as though she knew the special form of torture she was enacting upon him, and drew a fiendish delight in it.

Two more days. Less than that, actually. In closer to thirty-six hours (not that Noah was keeping track of these matters, mind), she would be his wife. Then he could act on his impulses. Then he could satiate his need.

He’d have to teach her a thing or two about what her wanton looks and brazen touches did to a man. To him, in particular.

Lady St. Benedict let out a loud sigh from a few feet away, over the heads of the gathering she’d invited to join her. “That was an excellent supper, if I do say so myself. But I feel the need for a bit of exercise after all of that. Would any of you care to join me?”

Noah’s gaze fell upon a movement in the distance, away from their supper box. He strained his eyes to see what, or more specifically who, it was. The man walked into a pool of light from a hanging lantern, and finally Noah could make out his face: Oglethorpe. The bastard. But the lecherous blackguard was no longer a concern. He would never collect on his bet now. Noah forced his attention to return to their hostess’s speech.

“The fireworks will not take place for a good time, yet, so we might as well find some other way to entertain ourselves.”

A number of the ladies present murmured their approval of her suggestion and got to their feet, Tabitha and Miss Faulkner amongst them. “A good promenade is precisely what I need,” Tabitha said, linking her arm with her cousin.

Noah and Leith exchanged a look. From the hardened, black expression in Leith’s eyes, Noah could only suspect he’d seen Oglethorpe too. They got to their feet almost as one.

“We’ll join you,” Leith said to Miss Faulkner. He placed her hand in the crook of his arm. Tabitha unfurled her grip on her cousin and instead took Noah’s arm. She smiled up at him in that wicked manner she’d taken on of late.

The entire party headed out onto one of the well-lit paths meandering through the gardens. Most of the ladies were on the arm of a gentleman, though a few groups of them clustered together as debutantes were wont to do, leaving a few gentlemen to hang back from the crush and talk amongst themselves. Several of the young ladies exclaimed in delight as they passed the cascade, or giggled as they walked beneath one of the storied archways.

Noah and Tabitha walked along in near silence. The sweet scent of peaches kept wafting across his nose every time the wind rustled over her—a scent he would forever associate with his bride-to-be. He wondered how she achieved such a scent, whether it was a particular oil she added to her bathwater or something she daubed behind her ears. The idea of discovering her secret, and then aiding her in producing it each day, crashed headlong into him. He had to stop thinking like this. Thirty-six hours. He could make it thirty-six more hours without succumbing to death from this torment.

He’d already survived almost thirty-two years without taking Tabitha to his bed, after all.

As they walked, the assemblage began to dissipate, with smaller groupings breaking off to travel down this path and that, straying away from the main path and sneaking off to the Druid Walks—and away from the ever-watchful eyes of their chaperones, in the bargain. Soon, only a spattering of the original party remained strolling along the lamp-lit walkway.

Noah glanced over his shoulder at Leith and Miss Faulkner. They were engrossed in conversation and not paying even the slightest attention to Noah and Tabitha.

“Come with me,” he whispered into Tabitha’s ear. With a gentle tug, he guided her away from prying eyes and into the dark. Not that he intended to do more with her than he had in the past...but it might ease his anguish if he could steal a kiss or three.

She didn’t complain. Indeed, she came along eagerly, hurrying along beside him. As they moved farther from the lights, her hand closed more tightly on his arm, but she kept pace with him, wending and turning through the tree- and flower-lined trails. Finally, the only light left to guide them on their journey was the crescent of the moon in the night sky. An occasional cloud passed over the moon, blanketing them in darkness.

They hadn’t passed another person in at least a few minutes. An expanse of grassy field opened before them, with a thick copse of trees on the other side. “Over there?” he asked.

Tabitha’s eyes shimmered bright in the narrow shaft of light. “Yes. That looks perfect.” He didn’t think to ask perfect for what. Surely she had the same idea in mind as he.

Noah took her hand into his own and led her across the meadow. Her slippered feet slid on a damp patch, and he pulled her to his chest to steady her. Her breath caught at the contact between their bodies. He understood all too well. The heat between them was palpable. “You’re all right?” He studied her expression, but she displayed no sign of worry.

“Yes,” Tabitha whispered, smiling and stretching up on her toes to peck him on the nose. Her coy, coquettish kiss set Noah’s loins aflame. Perhaps this wasn’t such a grand plan, after all.

Reaching for his hand, Tabitha directed them the rest of the way across the pasture. When they arrived at the shelter of massive oaks, he slowed to stop, but she pulled him deeper into the sanctuary, only stopping when they were altogether enshrouded in the cover of night and surrounded by the aroma of thousands of freesias.

He couldn’t see her any longer. But he felt the curves of her body press against him as she strapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down for a kiss. The sugared, fruity, feminine scent of her drew him down, closer to her warmth, and her lips tasted like golden honey. Her breath came on ragged moans and soft sighs.

“Touch me,” Tabitha commanded when he repositioned his lips to taste the frantic pace of her pulse beneath her ear and then lower, to the hollow of her neck.

Who was he to disobey? One hand moved to cover her breast and the other slipped behind her, settling over the soft, rounded flesh of her derrière. He squeezed both, glorying in the taught nub that formed beneath his palm at her breast and the near-inaudible whimper that trembled forth from her lips.

She grabbed the lapels of his coat, pulling them back and over his shoulders as she nibbled a path along his jaw. She had it halfway down his arms before he came to his senses.

Noah stilled Tabitha’s hands, holding them tight so she couldn’t continue to undress him. “What in God’s name are you doing?”

Her tongue slithered over his jaw, soothing the abraded skin she had left behind. By Jove, he needed about six more hands to contain her.

“I’m disrobing you,” she said breathlessly. Her hands continued to seek freedom as she placed feverish kisses over his neck and ears. “Unless you wanted to keep our clothes on. I suppose it is possible that way, though it will be a bit more complicated.” One of her hands pulled away, and she gave his cravat a great tug, then another, finally pulling it away. It fell unceremoniously to the bed of flowers and grass beneath their feet.

“Stop this, Tabitha. That isn’t why I brought you here.” In the dark, his attempts at recapturing her rogue hand went awry. She eluded him at every turn, until the flat of her hand pressed torturously against his erection. With a tiny movement, she enfolded him in her grasp. “Oh, God. What are you doing? This can’t happen.”

He had to stop her. He couldn’t give in to his baser instincts. Noah picked her up and set her away from him, holding her back with the greater length of his arms. It took every ounce of patience and honor he possessed to do so.

“If that’s not what you intended, what are we doing here?” Another cloud drifted away from the moon, and in its insubstantial illumination he saw her cross her arms over her chest, magnifying the glorious display before him. Her expression was a riveting combination of mutiny and desire. She looked absolutely ravenous—not something that would help his cause.

He chanced removing his hands from her shoulders. She didn’t immediately go on the offensive again, so he took a breath and pulled his fingers through his hair. “I thought to get you alone for a bit. I just wanted to kiss you.”

“I want more than a kiss. I want your hands on me. I want to feel you all over me—inside me.”

Dash it all. Even just hearing it from her mouth, in her voice, was almost enough to send him over the edge. “Tabitha, I thought I made myself clear to you in the carriage yesterday. We have to wait. I want this to happen the right way.”

She threw her hands up in the air. “Who says what way is the right way? We love each other. We’re to be married in two days’ time. Why do we have to wait?”

She would be the death of him. He might not make it to his own wedding.

Noah pressed his eyes closed. “Thirty-six hours,” he managed to get out between gritted teeth. “It is only thirty-six more hours, and then we’ll be married, and I can do things the way you deserve to have them done.” The image of Tabitha’s body beneath him in his bed flooded his mind. He opened his eyes and took another breath. “You’re an innocent, Tabitha. I absolutely refuse to take your maidenhead on the ground in a public garden.”

“I’m not.”

His heart stopped. He must have misheard her. “You’re not what?”

“I’m not an innocent, Noah. I know exactly what I’m asking you for.”

Noah stood staring at her as though she had suddenly sprouted wings and might fly away at any moment. “What do you mean, you’re not an innocent?” His words were quiet and measured, as though each one caused him great pain.

She hadn’t meant to blurt it out to him this way. He would have to learn eventually, once they were married and he tried to bed her at least, but she had hoped she would have a little more time to decide just how, precisely, to go about her explanation.

But Tabitha couldn’t very well have expected to be in this particular situation. She hadn’t planned it, not by any stretch of the imagination. The story was far from a short one to tell, and Tabitha was over-stimulated to the point of desperation. She needed him.

Tentatively, she stretched out a hand and reached for him, only to have him grab hold of it and hold it captive. “Explain,” he growled.

Oh, good Lord. He clearly needed her as badly as she needed him. But he was behaving like an intractable mule. “It was years ago,” Tabitha said, with far more exasperation tainting her tone than she’d intended. “I was young and exhausted from all of the fortune hunters paying me court. One of Father’s footmen said sweet words to me and sent flutters coursing through me, and I thought myself in love.”

Noah riffled his free hand through his hair in the way that always made Tabitha want to take over the task. “One of your father’s...Did he...? Did they...? Is he still...?”

Tabitha frowned. She wished he would just bed her and let her finish the rest of it later. “James Marshall was sacked. Not because of our relationship. Well, not exactly because of it. After we had been intimate for a few months, I caught him coupling with a pretty, petite scullery maid in his quarters when I went to look for him. When I confronted him, he admitted he was only bedding a ‘fat wench’ like me because it allowed him the opportunity to sneak around the family’s wing—I’d arranged for him to work in that area of the house, because I wanted him to be happy. He’d stolen quite a bit of jewelry and some artwork already since he took up the position. James was quite sure I’d never admit what had been happening to my father or brothers. He was right. Instead, I found Owen and told him where he would find James and the maid in the act, and he sacked them both on the spot.”

She sniffed back her frustration and stole a glance at Noah; his eyes were closed tight, as though hearing her admission pained him. “Since him, no gentleman who wasn’t already a notorious fortune hunter has paid me any attention. Clearly, no one has any need for a ‘fat wench’ like me.”

“Don’t call yourself such an ugly untruth as that. I do. I need you.” His words were like a prayer.

“So you say. Your body appears to agree with your words, but then you push me away. Why? I’m no innocent, and I’m asking you to touch me, yet you tell me we must wait until it is all legal and proper.” Tears stung her eyes. Damn them for betraying her now. “What reason should I suspect is behind this if not your need to have my dowry firmly within your grasp before you force yourself to touch the ‘fat wench’ I am? If you even decide to touch me at all, that is.”

“You can’t still believe that,” Noah said. “I thought we were past your distrust of me. And for God’s sake, would you please stop calling yourself a fat wench? You’re not fat at all. You’re perfect.”

“Perfect?” Tabitha scoffed. “There are many things I am, Noah, but perfect is about the furthest thing from the truth.”

“You’re perfect to me.” His eyes were still pinched closed. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at her as he spread his falsehoods. “You’re perfect for me in every way.”

Tabitha turned away. “I’ll believe that when you can say it while looking me in the eye. When you can look at my body and all its imperfections, and then say it straight to my face.” James had never been able to look at her, either; he had always extinguished the candles before he would touch her.

“Look at me,” Noah commanded softly.

But she couldn’t. She didn’t want to see the disgust in his eyes while he tried to appease her. It might break her to the point she could never put herself back together.

She felt him come up behind her before she heard him. “Tabitha,” he pleaded.

His warm breath fanned over her ear and neck, sending tiny tingles of awareness coursing over her body, though he didn’t touch her anywhere. Even now, when she was more certain of her repulsiveness to him than she’d ever been before, her body betrayed her with a disloyalty so rapid her neck might snap. She couldn’t stay there with him. Not when he couldn’t bear to touch her. Not when he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. Tabitha started back toward the meadow without looking back, as fast as she could go in her gown and slippers without tumbling to the ground.

“Wait.” Noah caught her in a few long strides, grabbing her arm and holding her firmly in place. She tried to pull herself free, but his grip was unrelenting. “I’m not going to let you run away from me, Tabitha. You can’t always run away from the things you don’t want to face. It won’t solve anything.”

The velvet heat of a tear landed on the bodice of her gown. Blast, she didn’t want to cry. Not now. She desperately brushed the growing flood of tears away with her free hand.

Noah placed both his hands on her upper arms and forced her to face his direction, but she refused to look up at him. “Christ, how am I supposed to do what you asked if you won’t even look at me?”

Fine. If he could live with himself for lying straight to her face, if he could look her in the eye and tell her bald untruths while fighting off the revulsion he surely must feel, then she could force herself to watch as he did so. It would be far from the first time she’d seen such an expression in a man’s face, and she doubted it would be the last. Tabitha slowly lifted her gaze to meet his.

Noah released her arms and used the pads of his thumbs to skim over the dampness covering her cheeks. “You are so beautiful to me, Tabitha.” His tone and eyes were sincere, not filled with disgust. He leaned down to kiss first one of her eyes and then the other, before trailing feather-light kisses over her forehead, down the bridge of her nose, across her cheekbones, and along the line of her jaw. Then he returned to stare ardently into her eyes.

“I don’t know why other men have failed to see you the way I do—why they neglect to see your beauty and intelligence, why they refuse to acknowledge your wit and charm. But they are the ones who must live with the loss. My only disappointment where that is concerned is how their actions have evidently hurt you.” With a scorching kiss, his tongue met hers in a fevered dance. “I love you, Tabitha. I don’t know how else to tell you—what else I can do to make you believe me.”

Tabitha wanted to believe him. Deep in her chest, tiny little cracks were forming along the surface of her heart; it would shatter into a thousand pieces if she allowed herself to trust him and then his words proved false.

“But you don’t,” he said after long minutes of silence elapsed between them.

The first of the evening’s display of fireworks exploded overhead, lighting the night sky with a burst of color that seemed to rain down over their heads. “We should go back,” Tabitha said. They should have returned already. Jo and Lord Leith would find their absence conspicuous, even if no one else did.

She turned and started to leave again, but his arms came around her and he pulled her tight to his chest. His arousal pressed into her bottom, hot and hard and pulsing.

“Stay with me,” he murmured into her ear. “Let me show you. If you can’t believe my words, let me show you.” His lips met the sensitive skin on neck, just at her nape, and a frisson of electricity surged to her stomach, matching the display bursting overhead in a torrent of fiery hues flooding the sky.

Everything inside her begged to do just what he asked, but she couldn’t help but think it would be a mistake. “I thought you wanted to do this properly—to wait until we’re married.”

A rumble sounded in his chest. “I do. But more than that, I want you to believe you are as beautiful, as ravishing, as enticing as I find you.” The palms of his hands flattened over her stomach, pressing her backside to more fully nestle into his hips. Then he slid his hands along the torturous path up her torso, settling over her breasts to knead against her already distended and sensitive nubs. “I thought you wanted this. I thought you wanted me to look at you and tell you how perfect you are for me. Let me.”

Tabitha’s traitorous body melted a little more at his every touch. When one hand left her breast and moved to the top of her thigh, she nearly lost her ability to stand. His tongue flicked against a spot just behind her ear, just where the heat always gathered when she blushed. That proved to be her undoing. “Damn you,” she breathed, spinning around in his arms and pulling his head down to meet her in a kiss.

Noah struggled to remove his coat, and she tugged at the sleeves to help him out of it. When he finally had it free of his arms, he spread it out over a patch of freesias, then set to work unclothing her. “Damn me, indeed.”

In a flurry of kisses and heated touches beneath the flares and bursts painting the midnight sky, he undid the series of buttons holding her gown in place while she fumbled with the flap of his breeches, pulling desperately at his shirt to loosen it from the waist of his pants. He finished his task before she had done more than remove the neck cloth and pull his shirtwaist free, and in a single motion, he pulled her dress and shift from her body, leaving her in only her stays, drawers, and stockings.

Another flash lit up the sky, illuminating her to his gaze. She covered herself, an instinctual move, before she could think better of it, but Noah pulled her arms aside. “I need to see you, Tabitha. All of you.”

An intensity filled his eyes and he kissed her again, his tongue mating with hers in a slow, sensuous dance. Shaking hands lowered her to his coat. Noah lay beside her, propped up on one arm and undoing the laces of her stays and drawers with experienced ease.

When he had them both free from her body, another flash of color split open the night sky as his eyes traveled the length of her, taking in all of the crevices and valleys she so detested. But he contemplated her with hunger, not the repugnance she had expected.

He used a light touch to caress her with his fingertips, devouring everything he touched with his eyes. She watched his path, too, growing more aroused by the moment. As he fondled her breasts, Tabitha’s breaths grew uneven. In painstaking fashion, he lowered his lips to her taut nipple and suckled. An inundation of wet heat collected between her legs, increasing with each flick of his tongue and scrape of his teeth over her sensitive flesh.

“So sweet,” he murmured.

Noah raised his head and resumed his gentle, torturous path down her body, watching her reaction as he went. The tips of his fingers danced across her stomach, circling her navel. Spasms formed in the muscles beneath his tender onslaught. When he licked her navel, Tabitha’s entire body nearly came up off the ground.

This was all nice and lovely and good, but she needed him to get on with it. She would go mad with need if he didn’t come to her soon. “Stop teasing me.” She grabbed a handful of his hair and urged him up to kiss her again at the same time as another firework exploded overhead.

Noah would not be moved. He playfully swatted her hand away and moved himself lower. “I’ve only just begun.” This time when he repositioned his hand, he settled it at the back of her knee, tantalizing the tender flesh there with spiraling movements, gliding leisurely upward along the inside of her thigh. A little further and she gasped. Another few inches and she trembled.

When he stopped just a hair’s breadth away from touching her most intimate spot, Tabitha threw back her head and nearly whimpered in need. “Touch me. I need you to touch me.”

“All in good time, love.”

A light pressure from his hand impelled her to open her knees. Then his fingers twined in her curls and nudged the folds of her sex, urging them apart as he had done with her knees. He traced her center, twirling a finger around her entrance and driving her to the brink of madness.

All at once, he slipped his fingers inside and took the center of her need into his mouth. “Oh, God.” Tabitha had never experienced anything like it. James Marshall would have never done anything like this to her. It felt sinful and incredibly erotic.

Noah stroked her in the familiar rhythm of mating while alternately drawing her core into his mouth and blowing a cool breeze over her until she was writhing beneath his ministrations. She reached out with her hands to grab onto something, anything, everything she could. One hand found his hair, the other his shirt, and she pulled. The lawn fabric of his shirt tore at the same moment as a moan ripped from her lungs.

Wave after wave of sensation crashed over her body. She was drowning in sensuality, dissolving in a gratifying agony she wanted never to end. When she thought she couldn’t take any more, another, stronger surge collided with her, and she exploded like the sparkling bursts of color in the heavens, fading back down to earth in bits and pieces.

She lay there attempting to reassemble her mind, she knew not how long. Time couldn’t very well exist while she was fractured into millions of fizzling fragments.

Noah left her for a few moments and removed the remnants of his attire. And then he was above her, kneeling between her legs and leaning down to kiss her mouth. Naked. Beautiful. Perfect. Hers.

Tabitha ran her hands over the muscled planes of his chest and arms, exploring every aspect of this man who would be her husband. With her fingers, she followed the trail of hair from his navel down to his straining erection. It was hard and hot in her grasp, and she squeezed lightly.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Noah ground out.

“Nor can I.” Tabitha kept her eyes locked with his as she guided him beneath curls and inside. The initial contact between his sex and hers nearly unraveled her again from the heat. His jaw clenched and his arms shook as he held himself above her, never claiming control, allowing her to direct their coupling. The effort to hold back soon produced a sheen of perspiration over his brow.

He eased his hips forward until he was fully embedded within her, joined to her, and then stayed like that until she had adjusted to his size. She felt full. Stretched. Loved. Tabitha wanted more. She shifted her hips and reveled in the sensation.

Biting his lip, Noah released a distorted groan. She took his head in her hands, fisting them into his hair, and pulled him down for a kiss. With her tongue, she pursued a salty path over his neck and chest, at last arriving at one of his nipples. Tabitha took it between her teeth and grazed it as she ground her hips upward to meet him. His sharp, indrawn breath sounded beside her lobe. Finally, he moved within her, easing into an unhurried, measured cadence of lovemaking she had never known before. His strokes were smooth and restrained. Deliberate. Friction came in a gradual build, ever-increasing, climbing to higher and higher peaks.

Using his hands, he stroked her passion to a silky, violent blaze, first teasing her breasts, then dancing a lazy, circuitous path to the crux of her curls where he tantalized her. Small sounds came from her, rising in pitch and unrecognizable to her own ears. Again, he reached between their bodies and his thumb brushed her over the edge, her cries muffled against his mouth as he kissed her through the torrent of release.

Tabitha stroked her hands over his back, his buttocks, the tops of his thighs. She wanted to touch him everywhere. She wanted to do for him as he had done for her. The thrusting of his hips increased, as did her hunger for more. Somehow, he drove deeper than before as his pace became near frantic. With one final, firm plunge, he spilled inside her, filling her with his heat and calling out into the night.

For long moments Noah lay collapsed atop her, still buried deep inside her as they both fought for air. His weight pinned her to the ground, but Tabitha didn’t mind. She didn’t want the moment to end. For as long as it could last, she wanted to stay connected to him in this precise manner. They belonged together.

Finally, he lifted himself up on his arms and looked down into her eyes. “Beautiful. You’re so beautiful to me.”

For the first time in her life, she felt beautiful, too.

Noah couldn’t be certain how long ago the fireworks had ceased. But after several moments of basking in the afterglow of making love to Tabitha, it became amply clear that they were no more. Lady St. Benedict and her party had to be wondering at their absence. Surely Leith and Miss Faulkner, if no one else, would find their nonappearance conspicuous. They needed to put their clothes back on and return, and the sooner, the better.

But he couldn’t bear to end the moment. Not so soon. Not yet.

Noah traced a lazy pattern over Tabitha’s bare stomach, watching her skin flutter and tremor beneath his touch in the moonlight peeking through tree branches overhead. “Did you love him?” he asked. Immediately he wished he hadn’t, because of the surge of jealousy that flooded through him. The thought of another man touching Tabitha as he had just done, of another man being inside her, was not one on which Noah wished to dwell.

“James Marshall?” At his nod, Tabitha continued. “I thought he loved me. I wanted to be loved. I probably convinced myself that I did love him, just because I wanted so desperately for someone to choose me.”

Noah’s heart broke for her. The one time she’d thought a man had loved her, he’d been using her. She had given this James Marshall everything she had, her body and her innocence, and he had called her a fat wench. The bastard stole far more than her jewelry that day. He stole her belief in herself and her ability to trust.

No wonder it had taken so long for her to believe Noah could want her for more than her dowry. No wonder she still questioned his intentions.

“He didn’t deserve you,” Noah said softly.

Tabitha snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. After a few minutes, she was asleep. He watched her, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the light flickering of her eyelids. She was at once entirely at peace, and still the most enticing vision Noah could imagine.

Something sounded in the distance, like a twig snapping underfoot, and Noah’s head snapped up. He scanned the area, but nothing seemed to move in the darkness.

It must have been his imagination. Or maybe an animal had caused the sound, a squirrel or a bird of some sort. Either way, it was nothing to worry about.

But he did need to take Tabitha back to her cousin. The disturbance only served to remind him that they were completely nude in a public place. Anyone could come upon them at any moment. The trees only provided so much cover.

Time to wake his sleeping angel. There were only thirty-six more hours, after all, until she would be his wife. Then he could watch her sleep as often as he wanted. Every day, in fact.

“Today is your last day as a free man,” Shelton said, coming up alongside Noah on the path to Shelton Hall. Noah had been heading in; Shelton was on his way out, with Raynesford, Claremont, and Leith not far behind. He draped an arm across the back of Noah’s shoulders and turned him around, changing his course. “You need a drink. Come along. I’ll buy.”

Unless the drink in question was coffee, Noah didn’t think he wanted anything to do with it. He held up his hands and shook his head. “I’d intended to call on Tabitha today.” Then he realized it was hardly past noon. “And isn’t this a little early in the day for drinks?”

Shelton frowned and raised an eyebrow. “It is never too early in the day for drinks. Once you’re awake, that is. If you’re still sleeping, it might be just a touch on the early side.”

“You’ll be able to see her as much as you want for the rest of your life,” Raynesford countered. “More than you want, even.”

Claremont chuckled. “And I’m sure she’ll survive without your presence for another hour or two today. I don’t think she’s come down from her chamber yet.”

“Imagine that,” Leith murmured where only Noah could hear. “Quite unlike Lady Tabitha to sleep in so late. One might think she had something of an extraordinary evening last night, if one didn’t know better.”

Noah studied Leith. The earl didn’t appear inclined to divulge anything he knew—or for that matter, anything he suspected—to Tabitha’s brothers about what had happened the previous evening. A brief nod had been all that was exchanged between them the night before, when Noah and Tabitha had returned to find the supper box deserted save for Leith and Miss Faulkner, who patiently awaited their return.

“Come on,” Claremont put in. “We want to toast your impending nuptials. And Helen expects me home in a few hours. Why she thinks I ought to participate in her at-home, I’ll never understand. But it is easier to comply than to listen to her complaints after the fact.”

Raynesford winked. “Yet another thing Devonport ought to make note of.”

It wouldn’t hurt to go along with them. Particularly not since Tabitha was still abed. They had been out later than he’d intended last night. And their activities had been a bit more vigorous than a leisurely stroll through the gardens. She needed to rest.

Indeed, having her well-rested for the next day was of chief importance. She would need all the energy she could muster for what Noah had in mind for the honeymoon.

“Very well,” Noah agreed. “Where shall we be off to?”

Shelton pulled him along to a waiting carriage. “White’s, I should think. There is a certain matter in the book there which needs to be settled, after all.” They all clambered inside and it rocked into motion.

“Not so fast, Toby,” Claremont said. “Not until after the vows have been said. I want signatures in the church register before I’ll pay up.”

Leith chuckled and his broken nose tugged slightly to the left. “Helen keeping tight rein over the purse strings again?”

“I think we all know who wears the breeches in that relationship,” Raynesford drawled, earning himself a punch on the shoulder from his cousin.

“The deed is as good as done.” Shelton held out an open palm. “Cough up.”

“Sounds to me like you’ve exceeded your allowance again,” Claremont said. “Maybe you ought to ask your father for an increase. I’d love to see what Uncle Drake thinks about that.”

Raynesford snorted. “There is no chance Father will grant him more than he already has. If Toby asks, he’ll demand to know how he has gone through what he already had—what it was spent on. The answers, I can assure you, will hardly suffice. No matter what the specific answers may be.”

The brief journey to White’s was filled with much the same sort of easy banter. It dawned on Noah that he could expect year after year of the same, now. He’d be far from alone, despite the fact that his mother and sisters had all left him for their husbands. He’d have Tabitha’s family.

He’d have Tabitha.

It shouldn’t be possible to feel so altogether content with one’s lot in life. It felt as though there ought to be something inherently wrong with being pleased to the point of sheer bliss with one’s existence, when one considered how lamentable the existence of so many others were.

But content he was. No, perhaps content wasn’t the right word. Cheerful. Delighted. Exultant. Something more along those lines might be a more apt description.

Upon entering their club, they took up a table near the back of the main room and Shelton ordered a round of whiskey for them all.

“Brandy, for me, if you don’t mind,” Noah cut in. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to smell whiskey again without possibly casting up the contents of his stomach. Leith grinned at him from across the table, no doubt remembering their last mutual visit to the establishment like he was.

After their drinks were brought around and they laughed for a few more minutes about Shelton’s dwindling allowance (“I swear, most of what I have spent has gone toward buying presents for Lady Backingham, and even then, I haven’t spent remotely what you seem to believe I’ve spent”). Then talk once again turned to Raynesford and Shelton wanting to go ahead and call the bet between the five of them a done deal.

“The marriage will take place tomorrow. Won’t it, Devonport?” Raynesford’s tone brooked no argument.

Noah started to agree, but Shelton cut him off. “Of course it will happen. He knows we’ll cut his ballocks off with a dull, rusted blade if it doesn’t.”

“Fine way to guarantee collecting on your bet,” Claremont said on a laugh. “Threatening the man’s ballocks hardly seems fair.”

Leith downed the last of his whiskey. “I’ve never known Toby to care about fairness. That said, there is no doubt that Devonport and Tabitha will marry tomorrow. I’m willing to pay up right now.” His eyes fixed onto Noah’s as he spoke, with a warning in their depths.

“I’ll pay and we’ll call it finished,” Noah agreed. “I don’t want to chance forgetting after the wedding, once I’m otherwise occupied, and then having you lot send debt collectors knocking at my door.”

Claremont heaved a forced sigh. “Fine. You win. We’ll settle it all now and mark it in the books.” He threw back his tumbler and finished off his drink. “But let this be known. If anything happens to change it, I’ll expect my coin back with interest.”

“Fat chance that’ll happen,” Shelton grumbled. In the time required for the rest of the table to finish their one whiskey each (or half a brandy, in Noah’s case), he had worked his way through two and had started on a third. He tossed the rest back and swallowed, holding out his open hand for their money. When all the coins had exchanged hands and everyone seemed satisfied, he pushed back from the table and asked, “Who’s going to finalize everything in the betting book? We can’t just leave it sitting there like the wager is still unsettled.”

Noah stood as well. “I’ll handle it and meet you all out at the carriage.”

The other gentlemen all got to their feet and made their way out the door, except for Leith, who walked with Noah up to the bow window. “Because you’re marrying Lady Tabitha tomorrow morning,” he said with a quiet voice, “I don’t feel it necessary to call you out. Nor do I think it wise to inform her brothers and cousin of what happened last night. Miss Faulkner agrees with me.”

They drew closer to where the betting book was situated. A large group of gentlemen were situated around the table, talking in animated tones and laughing robustly. Noah and Leith inched their way forward, pushing politely between bodies until they were close enough to discern what was causing the commotion. Oglethorpe. The bastard. He stood directly in the center of the grouping, alongside Eggerley. But it was Oglethorpe’s voice coming over the din of the crowd.

“Time to pay up, Eggerley. She took me off onto one of the dark paths, and then we found a little copse of trees. The cow was pulling my clothes off faster than a starving whore working for a half-crown. I tupped her right there in the open air beneath the fireworks. Got the grass stains on my trousers to prove it, as you can see.” He brushed a hand over his thigh, drawing every eye to the green marks staining his buff-colored breeches. “I’ll be making my way to see Newcastle this afternoon. Let him know I’ll be glad to rectify the breach in short order. Since word’s already out to you all, I’m sure he’ll agree that a special license is in order.”

“Lord Newcastle will agree to no such thing.” Noah couldn’t stand there and listen to one more word out of the cur’s vile mouth. With every word, with every syllable, a vise seemed to tighten around Noah’s throat until he couldn’t breathe at all. “Nothing of the sort happened, so there is no reason—”

“Nothing happened, you say?” Oglethorpe let out a high-pitched laugh, almost a giggle. Probably nervous laughter. “I suppose that is what a man ought to say when he’s just been made a cuckold. Though you aren’t really a cuckold, are you, since you’ve yet to marry the cow? What does that make you, Devonport?”

A raucous chorus of laughter filled the room. How these men could consider themselves gentlemen, Noah would never understand. There was nothing chivalrous amongst the lot of them. Nothing redeeming.

He had to shut them out. Ignore them. Only his quarry deserved his attention at the moment. His pulse roared through his veins so loud he could scarcely hear anything else. Nothing existed save Noah and Oglethorpe. “I’d advise you to stop calling Lady Tabitha that. And while you’re at it, I’d advise you to recant your claims before this crowd. They’re untrue and you know it. Defiling a lady’s name in such a way is indefensible.”

A practiced sneer covered Oglethorpe’s face. Noah’s hand itched to strike him until he could never sneer again. That or until it was made permanent.

“And if I choose not to take your advice?”

Inside Noah’s head, a cacophony of retorts warred with each other for dominance. He’d beat Oglethorpe to a bloody mess of flesh. He’d rip his heart out through his throat and toss it into the Thames to be eaten by the fish. He’d pummel him in the stomach until he begged for his nursemaid.

None of them came close to being sufficient.

“Then I’ll see you at dawn. Do you prefer pistols or swords?” Where on earth had that come from? He’d never handled a sword. Pistols weren’t much better. But it was the only solution.

Oglethorpe raised a brow and a half-smile settled over his features. “Lord Devonport wishes to duel? How very risqué. Whatever will his mummy and precious sisters think of their little mollycoddled milksop?”

“They’ll think he’s the man of honor and decency he’s always been, Oglethorpe,” Leith cut in, “unlike the ignoble excuse for a gentleman you are.”

Turning shrewd, narrowed eyes on Leith, Oglethorpe pursed his lips. “Indeed,” he replied. “If Devonport didn’t have friends such as yourself, he might find himself an effeminate fop, from the influence of all the females surrounding him. But no matter. If he wishes to burden them with the job of cleaning him up once I’ve embarrassed him, who am I to argue? Eggerley, might I borrow your dueling pistols?”

The burlier dandy nodded. “I’ll be your second, if you’d like.”

“And I’ll second Devonport,” Leith said.

“That’s settled then.” Noah tried to slow the flow of blood racing through his system so he could hear himself think. “I’ll see you at Hyde Park at dawn.”

Before he could change his mind, Noah spun and left White’s, with Leith on his heels. When they got outside, only Claremont stood waiting for them. No carriage. Shelton and Raynesford were both gone.

“We’ll have to hire a hack,” Claremont said congenially. “Lady Kibblewhite and Lady Plumridge came upon us as the carriage came around and asked Owen if he would mind giving them a lift to Shelton Hall. They wanted to call upon Tabitha this afternoon. While he was helping them into the carriage, Toby realized he’d forgotten his hat and went back to retrieve it. When he came back out, he looked as angry as I’d ever seen him. He climbed inside with Owen and the two older ladies, and they were off before I got an explanation.”

All the blood drained from Noah’s face.

“Bloody hell,” Leith murmured beside him.

Shelton had heard. How much he heard was anyone’s guess.

“We’d better go,” Noah said. “Before Shelton murders my bride.”

A crash sounded in the front entryway. “Where is she?” Toby roared. “Tabitha. Tell me where she is before I rip you in two.”

Tabitha’s eyes widened as she looked across the drawing room at Elaine. “What has gotten into him?” Little Lily bounced happily on Tabitha’s lap, oblivious to the fact that her uncle was a stark-raving lunatic.

Elaine just shook her head slowly back and forth.

Livingston’s muted voice mumbled something Tabitha couldn’t make out mere seconds before the double-doors flew back, clattering and banging against the wall. Toby barreled through them with Owen close behind. For some reason, Lady Kibblewhite and Lady Plumridge followed them, their thirsty eyes drinking in everything before them.

Tabitha wasn’t granted much time to wonder at their presence, however. Toby reached her side and pulled her bodily up by the arm. If not for her hurried reaction, pulling the little girl close, Lily would have fallen to the floor.

“Is it true?” Toby demanded, glaring down into her eyes. Owen came over and took his daughter from Tabitha even as Toby shook her.

“Is what true?” Tabitha hadn’t been the only one to ask. The two swarming vultures each chimed in at the same time.

Owen handed Lily off to Elaine and then came back, loosening Toby’s grip on Tabitha’s arm before her twin could pull it off altogether. Tabitha rubbed herself where his hand had been. It probably wouldn’t leave a mark, but it had hurt like the dickens.

“Is it true that you had relations last night at Vauxhall beneath the fireworks? In a blasted field?”

His words clenched her stomach. It tightened into an icy ball. How did he know? Had Noah said something? Had someone seen them? Oh, damn and blast, she was stupid. Such idiocy to stop thinking, even for a moment, and just act.

“I think,” Owen said placidly, “this is neither the time nor the place for this discussion.” He gestured with his eyes toward the two gossipmongers, hanging on every word and waiting to pounce.

Toby shrugged his brother’s hand off, never taking his burning eyes from Tabitha’s. “I don’t care who is listening. I want answers. Is it true?”

Lying would serve no purpose. The wedding was already scheduled for tomorrow morning. Even if the two old dragons ran off and spread the word, the scandal would hardly warrant more than a week’s worth of on-dit at most. They were practically married already.

Tabitha nodded. “Yes, it’s true.”

“Bloody hell,” Toby muttered and started pacing. “I’ll kill him. I’ll tear every finger and toe from his body one at a time and let the rats have at him. No, that’s better than he deserves.” Nothing like taking things a bit too far. What else ought she to expect from her brother, though? Tabitha sighed.

“Watch your language,” Father said from the doorway. “There are ladies present, and your niece too, in case you’ve forgotten. And explain to me why there is such a commotion going on in my house.” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited. His posture lent him an authoritative air.

Well, this was uncomfortable. Still, she might as well come out with it. Father would find out from Toby or Owen anyway. It might be better for her if he heard the truth from her own lips. She opened her mouth to speak, but Toby’s voice cut across her.

“Oglethorpe ruined Tabitha last night at Vauxhall. Ruined in the deepest sense.”

“What?” Father roared.

“Oglethorpe!” Owen cursed beneath his breath.

“Oh, my. Oh, dear me.” Lady Kibblewhite looked positively gleeful. Before Tabitha could explain, the Ladies Kibblewhite and Plumridge dashed out of the drawing room faster than she had imagined they were capable of moving and were gone, waving over their shoulders and calling out something about forgetting an appointment as they left.

Elaine sucked in a breath, but stayed quiet. Lily said something incomprehensible to anyone but herself and giggled.

What? Tabitha shook her head. “No—”

Father stopped her with his hand in the air. “Silence.” He glared in her direction. “Toby, how did you come to learn this?”

“Oglethorpe was boasting about it at White’s. Trying to collect on some bloody bet or something. And when I asked Tabitha, she confirmed his claim.”

“No, that’s not—”

“Elaine,” Father interrupted Tabitha again, silencing her with a wearied stare, “please take Tabitha upstairs to her chamber. Stay with her there until I come for her. We have to decide what is to be done. Leave your daughter with her nurse.”

Tabitha had to make him understand. She didn’t know what Oglethorpe’s game was. But it would all be so much better if they all knew the truth. “But Father—”

“Enough, Tabitha.” He looked wounded. His eyes begged her silently to comply. She hated to ever disobey him, to cause him more heartache. “Not another word right now. You’ve already done more than enough.”

Elaine’s gentle touch prodded her forward.

Like a sheep being herded to pasture, Tabitha took several steps before coming to a stop. “No. I’ll not be banished to my room like a misbehaving child.” Father’s expression was thunderous, but she pressed on anyway. She would not cower in fear before him. Not before any of them. “I did have a liaison at Vauxhall last night. But it was with Noah, not with Lord Oglethorpe. My blasted fiancé. And since our wedding is set for tomorrow morning, I don’t see that it is anything for any of you to get so upset about.”

“But you said—” Toby spluttered, then searched the air for words. “You said it was true.”

“It was true, you blithering blunderbuss,” Owen said. “You didn’t name names. You just asked if she’d had relations at Vauxhall last night.”

Toby’s face dropped to the floor. “Oh, damn.”

Father looked from one of them to the next as Lily fussed in her mother’s arms. “What am I missing?” he asked when no one spoke for a few minutes.

Elaine walked over to him and gestured to the open doorway. “Lady Kibblewhite and Lady Plumridge.” The gravity of the situation came over Father’s face like a sunset. “Surely they’re off to tell everyone they can what they just overheard. They didn’t stay long enough to discover the truth.” She turned and looked apologetically at Tabitha. “I’m afraid, my lord, that your daughter is well and truly ruined.”

“I’m not bloody well ruined.”

“Watch your language,” Father said. “Elaine and Lily, at the very least, should not be subjected to such profanity.”

Tabitha ignored her father and barreled on with her objections. “And whether I am or not, Noah will still have me. He won’t care what Oglethorpe has done, but he will care what we have done. We’ll marry tomorrow morning, as planned.” She hoped. But now was not the time to let her family see her doubts.

The anger seemed to dissipate from Father by the moment, lifting off of him in waves. “I hope you’re right.”

“She’s right,” Owen said. “Devonport is an honorable man, however deplorable his actions last night may have been. He’ll not leave Tabitha to fend for herself against this.”

“To fend off Oglethorpe, you mean,” Toby muttered. “He’ll still have to be dealt with. We can’t allow him to besmirch her name further. Tabitha’s reputation reflects upon the entire family.”

Owen looked pensive for a moment, reflecting on his brother’s point. “He’ll have to be called out. Will it be you or me?”

Oh, good grief. Tabitha shook her head. It was a stupid, silly lie. There was no truth in Oglethorpe’s claim. “Challenging the man to a duel will only fuel the rumors and give his claims credence. It would be like admitting he was right.”

Toby smirked at her. “You don’t get a say in this.”

“But she’s right,” Elaine said. She looked as affronted as Tabitha felt, with her eyes blazing and one hand planted on her hip.

“Right or not, this is about the principle of the matter,” Owen said.

Tabitha raised her hands in the air. “Exactly my point!” She might have overdone it on the dramatics by a bit.

Rolling his eyes, Toby turned to Owen. “I’ll do it. And maybe I’ll do as good a job of it as Isaac did a few years ago.”

Absolutely not. Tabitha couldn’t let anything so utterly idiotic happen. “You will do nothing of the sort. And I’ll murder you if you kill the man.” But what if Oglethorpe killed Toby? “And you’d damned well better not get yourself killed or I’ll never forgive you.”

Owen spoke over Tabitha. “I’ll be your second.” He looked over to their father. “Unless you would prefer to have that honor.”

Tabitha felt desperate. She needed Jo, but Jo wasn’t there so Elaine would have to do. “Elaine, you have to help me. They’ve got to see reason.”

Her sister-in-law stood there with her mouth opening and closing, like a fish. Nothing would come out. She definitely wasn’t as much help as Jo would have been.

Father cleared his throat and looked between Owen and Toby. “I’ll trust you two to take care of this matter. And Elaine, I’ll trust you to keep Tabitha out of more trouble in the meanwhile. On that thought, I think I’ll send word over to Josephine. Her assistance might be required, as well.”

Thank goodness. If Jo came over, maybe the three of them—the three with any sense—could come up with a plan to stop all this bag of moonshine about dueling.

“Oh, Lord Devonport, you poor dear!” The noxious voice of Lady Kibblewhite flooded over Noah and somehow pierced through the fog that had clouded his thoughts since leaving White’s.

Claremont had tried to secure a hack for their conveyance, but Noah was impatient to get to Shelton Hall. Leith agreed that they shouldn’t wait. After a few minutes, the three had left on foot. Up until coming across Lady Kibblewhite—and her just-as-bad companion, Lady Plumridge—Noah had thought it a fine solution. Now, he wished he was safely enclosed in a rickety, smelly carriage where he could hide from them.

But why had the two gossips already left Shelton Hall? On foot, no less? This seemed highly peculiar for the pair of them.

“Good afternoon, Lady Kibblewhite,” he somehow forced himself to say. “And to you too, Lady Plumridge.” Noah and the other gentlemen tipped their hats. He moved to the side of the path, hoping to allow the gossipmongers to pass so he could continue on his way without further delay.

He shouldn’t have bothered hoping. For that matter, he needn’t have bothered moving out of their way.

Lady Plumridge placed one of her pudgy, gloved hands on Noah’s arm and clucked her tongue. “Such a shame, Lady Kibblewhite, would you not agree?” She looked up at him with feigned sadness in her eyes.

“Indeed it is,” her companion said. “But at least the wedding has not taken place yet. Lord Devonport isn’t quite a cuckold, not yet.” Lady Kibblewhite turned to Noah with an earnest stare, even as he felt the blood in his veins turn to ice.

A cuckold? Surely she hadn’t heard Oglethorpe’s claim. Ladies were not allowed inside White’s. But Shelton had heard.

Noah closed his eyes while she continued. “Though I would advise you to leave Lady Tabitha to Lord Oglethorpe. She has made her bed, my lord. Let her lie in it.”

He couldn’t allow them to believe Oglethorpe’s boast. “You are mistaken, ladies, I can assure you.”

Lady Plumridge pinched closed her lips, until they looked exceedingly out of place on her broad face. “And we can assure you that you are mistaken.”

“Indeed,” Lady Kibblewhite crooned, “not only has Lord Oglethorpe been sure to inform half the gentlemen at his club of his conquest, but Lady Tabitha has confirmed his assertion.”

“She wouldn’t have,” Leith said. “She’d never agree such a thing had happened.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure, if I were you, Lord Leith.” Lady Kibblewhite narrowed her eyes up at him. “But really, we must be off. The gathering at Lady Marcheford’s at-home, I’m sure, will be desperate to hear the latest.”

“That they will,” Lady Plumridge agreed.

Before he could stop them, they had scurried away down the walk. Claremont turned to Noah and Leith, his eyes wide. “There’s no truth to that, is there?”

Leith cursed. “At this point, does it matter? The whole of the ton will have heard it by tonight.”

“And hearing something is all it takes for it to be considered absolute truth,” Noah finished. “Let’s get to Shelton Hall. We’ll explain there.”

They continued on foot, moving faster now. By the time they arrived, the butler showed them into the drawing room where only Shelton and Raynesford remained, their expressions black.

“Excellent,” Shelton drawled. “We were just getting ready to head out and challenge Oglethorpe. You can come along to watch.” He stood and checked his watch fob. “But then again, just issuing the challenge might not be such a great show. You’ll come tomorrow? A duel in the morning might make the wedding seem more exciting.”

Claremont perked up. “There’s to be a duel? Fantastic. Helen never lets me have fun anymore, but that should brighten my outlook for the week.”

“You can’t challenge him.” Noah frowned. They were Tabitha’s brothers, true. But she was going to be his wife. “I’ve already done so. We’ll meet at dawn.”

Shelton scowled. “I could challenge him, too. I should challenge him, too.” He scrunched his eyes together, revealing a crease above his nose. “For that matter, I should challenge you.”

“So Tabitha has explained what really happened, then?” Thank God. He only hoped she was none the worse for wear after the encounter. The Shelton brothers’ wrath, he could handle; a crying, distraught Tabitha, he could not.

“Yes,” Raynesford said. “And she’s damned lucky that it was you she met for an assignation and not Oglethorpe.”

“She might not be so lucky tomorrow,” Shelton said. “If Devonport kills Oglethorpe in his duel, and then I kill Devonport for taking liberties with her before the wedding, she’ll be left with no options.”

“But with her honor well defended,” Leith cut in sardonically.

Shelton nodded. “Precisely.”

“She won’t have to worry about that.” Noah heard the front doors open and close, but ignored the sound. “There’s no reason for Shelton to kill me, since I fully intend to marry Tabitha. The wedding will take place as planned. No need for that duel.”

“You’re taking all the fun out of my day.” Shelton crossed to look out the front window, crossing his arms over his chest. “All that will be left is your bloody wedding.”

“And his duel with Oglethorpe,” Raynesford said.

The sound of a woman clearing her throat came from the double doors of the drawing room. Noah turned, hoping to see Tabitha, but instead found Miss Faulkner. “Is Tabitha in her chamber, then? Uncle Drake sent for me. Said there was a bit of an emergency.” She planted her hands on her hips and glowered at the lot of them. “From what I heard from Lady Kibblewhite on my way over, it seems to me there is more than a bit of an emergency, though. She was telling everyone she passed on the street. Lady Plumridge was on the other side of the street, no doubt doing more of the same.”

“Bloody hell.” Shelton walked to the sideboard and poured himself another whiskey, downing it and refilling before he continued. “I will challenge him, too. Be sure you don’t kill him, Devonport. I want a turn.”

Raynesford focused on his cousin. “She’s in her chamber, Jo. Elaine is with her. Keep her out of trouble.”

“From the sound of it, I ought to stay here and keep all of you out of trouble. Or perhaps you’ve forgotten that I’m a better shot than the lot of you by far.” Miss Faulkner narrowed her eyes at Noah. “Well, I know nothing of your aim, Lord Devonport, so I suppose I can’t make that claim.”

Shelton swallowed another mouthful of his whiskey and grimaced. “Just go upstairs and be sure she stays put until the wedding tomorrow, Jo.”

She glared at Shelton, but remained silent before spinning on her heel and leaving them. Leith’s eyes remained transfixed on the sway of her skirts as she left for a bit longer than they ought to have done.

Claremont shook his head. “Ordering Jo about was a stupid move, Toby.”

“I have never been afraid of your sister, and I don’t plan on changing that now. Just because you’re petrified of her retribution doesn’t mean the rest of us should be. Don’t be sore with me for putting her in her place when you should have done that and more a long time ago.”

“You think rather highly of your own abilities.” Leith chuckled. “No man will ever put Josephine Faulkner in her place.” He sounded like a man who knew that to be truth all too well.

Claremont brushed off Shelton’s comments. “Do you still want to duel Oglethorpe when Devonport’s done with him?” His voice was eager, excited. Like he could think of no better way to spend his day. By gad. “We should go find him, to make your intentions known. Make sure he accepts.”

“I think one duel in a day will be more than enough,” Raynesford said. Shelton started to protest, so Raynesford merely raised his voice to be heard over his brother. “Devonport’s challenge has already been accepted. And since he is the one who will be married to Tabitha, it is his right to be the one to defend her.”

Finally. Someone who could see reason.

“We can at least all come along to watch, then can’t we? Making it through the entire day otherwise will be more trying than I can manage. And I suppose we might have to clean Devonport up before we rush him off to the church.”

Noah had to stifle the laughter that threatened to overwhelm him at Shelton’s pout. He’d not seen a grown man pout that he could remember in his life. “We can’t very well expect you to suffer the boredom of a day without a duel.”

Raynesford, in his ever-serious manner, eyed his brother for a minute before turning to Noah. “We’ll all come with you in the morning, and then we’ll be sure you meet Tabitha at the altar. I’m not going to take any chances.”

“Of course.” At last, perhaps they were all in agreement over how things would proceed.

Shelton returned to the sideboard and helped himself to yet another whiskey. “Anyone else want a drink? Devonport?” He waved the bottle of whiskey around, as though the motion would entice Noah into accepting the poison.

He tried not to lose the contents of his stomach just from the thought of drinking more whiskey. “None for me. But should we perhaps send word up to Tabitha that I’m here to see her?” He’d seen enough of everyone but Tabitha for the day.

“I can’t have just heard you properly.” Tabitha plopped down on her bed and shook her head, thinking maybe it would clear the cobwebs filling her ears.

Jo did have a diabolical streak, but this went beyond her typical fodder—and it was directed at Tabitha, not at one of the men of the family. Jo wouldn’t do that to her. Not now. Not when Tabitha was still reeling over her family knowing what she and Noah had done the previous night. Not when she was trying to face the fact that the most notorious gossips in the ton were in the midst of executing her downfall. Would she?

“I thought you said that Noah had challenged Lord Oglethorpe to a duel. This is supposedly in addition to the duel Toby intends to have with Oglethorpe, which I was already aware of, and a duel between Toby and Noah.”

Elaine looked up from the embroidery sampler she was working on by the window. “It sounds to me like you heard your cousin quite plainly.”

“Lainey seems to have the way of it.” Jo took a seat in the Louis XIV chair closest to the hearth and crossed her ankles, thumbing through the fashion plates displayed on the table before her. She either neglected to notice or ignored the fact that Elaine visibly blanched at Jo’s pet name for her. “You really ought to try harder to keep up, Tabby.”

“But that’s all preposterous.”

“Preposterous or not, that’s what I heard.” Jo frowned at the fashion plate in her hand and set it aside, moving to the next one. “And why, pray tell, is it preposterous for the men who love you to wish to defend your honor?” Her tone had turned mordant for the question.

“This isn’t a question of my honor,” Tabitha spluttered, flopping onto her back and stretching out over the counterpane.

Elaine raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it?”

“Of course it isn’t. No matter what the gossips say about me, the truth will eventually become known when I have nothing to do with Oglethorpe and I instead marry Noah tomorrow.” If she were to still marry him tomorrow, that is. Tabitha was beginning to rethink her decision, based on the fact that her intended was behaving in such an idiotic manner as to challenge the blackguard to a duel. She shoved those thoughts aside for the moment. “What this is about is a group gentleman, each trying to exaggerate his own prowess in a bid to impress the others, or perhaps to impress me, in one case. This can only lead me to wonder when they’ll work out that a bleeding hole in the chest can only lead to my distress.” Granted, in Toby’s case she might be glad for impending death.

No, even she couldn’t be glad for that.

Lily’s nurse knocked at the door then, begging Elaine for a moment’s time. Elaine ducked out to go see to her daughter.

“You didn’t react in even a remotely similar manner to Isaac’s duel with the Earl of Loring several years ago,” Jo said. “Unless I am mistaken, you even encouraged me to take matters into my own hands.”

Tabitha sat up again so briskly she felt dizzy from the blood rushing back down from her head. “There is no comparison between the two situations. None. Loring had attempted to ravish Bethanne, and then he did ravish Miranda and refused to marry her to restore her reputation. How can you even attempt to make such an association with what is happening here?” Thank goodness Elaine was gone for the moment. Tabitha hadn’t even thought about what she was saying until she’d already said it.

Tossing the fashion plates to her lap, Jo sighed. “You’re off the point, Tabby. What Oglethorpe has claimed—what he wants society to know—is as bad as what Isaac knew of Loring when he called the wretch out. We know better. Your betrothed and your brothers know better about this situation, but the remainder of the beau monde does not. A duel will serve to clear the air.”

The door opened again as Elaine returned. “Lily is all settled for her nap now,” she said, resuming her seat and picking up her sampler. “Go on with your discussion. Pretend I never had to leave and return.”

Easy enough. Tabitha intended to do just that. She frowned at her cousin. “Duels are illegal.”

Jo returned her attention to the fashion plates, picking them up in her hands again and scanning over them. “A point of which I’m sure all parties involved are aware. That doesn’t seem to be enough deterrent. Try again.”

“Fine. I can understand their desire for a duel. Meaning one. One duel. Not three. And why on earth is Toby challenging Noah? That makes no sense whatsoever.”

“Since when do the men of this family make sense?” Elaine asked.

Jo nodded in Elaine’s direction. “Touché. See, Tabby? Lainey may be amongst the newest members of the family, but she understands them all better than you seem to at the moment.” Her lips pinched into a frown. “Of course, your lack of understanding might be due more to a choice than anything.”

Tabitha no longer possessed enough thought capacity to decipher Jo’s veiled comments. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Simply that you are unwilling to concede that you’re worth raising a breeze over. Yes, dueling is illegal. Yes, all of these supposed challenges are a feckless display of their virility and bravery, perhaps more for their own conceit than for your safety and comfort. But the fact of the matter remains that you are at the center of it all.” Jo returned all of the fashion plates to the occasional table and stood to look out the window. After several long moments of Tabitha staring at her fingernails and pretending not to have understood her cousin’s claims, Jo murmured, “Aunt Rosaline was right.”

Of course Aunt Rosaline was right. Aunt Rosaline had been right about almost everything in her life, right up until the point where her mind stopped functioning the way it ought. But heaven help Tabitha determine what, specifically, Jo thought Aunt Rosaline had been right about in this moment. “Care to elaborate?” Tabitha asked dryly when Jo didn’t finish the thought on her own.

Without turning, Jo held her own counsel for what felt an eternity. Tabitha could almost see the wheels turning in the back of Jo’s head. It was as though the choice between telling Tabitha the truth and telling her some other story could affect far more than the conversation at hand. “Aunt Rosaline always said you believed yourself unworthy of attention. That you felt a grand display would be wasted on you—someone undeserving of such notice—when it could be better spent on someone else. Someone more commendable or admirable. Someone less plump.”

Jo’s carefully chosen words stung more than a blow to the face. Is that really what she thought of herself? She’d always remained in the background, it was true. Tabitha wanted to avoid the scorn and derision she sensed from the ton, when they would comment on her stoutness.

The observations always hurt Tabitha, whether they came from an infamous gossip or from her own father. Perhaps they hurt more when they came from someone she loved and who loved her. Someone whose opinion of her held weight. They hurt more, because if the commenter cared about her and still made the remark, then it must be true.

Tabitha would never be loved for anything but her money, particularly not when she was plump and plain. Not when there were so many other candidates who were far more appropriate.

That’s what Tabitha had believed to be true for as long as she could remember. At least, she’d believed it until very recently. Perhaps until the last few weeks.

Maybe it had been true of most of the gentlemen in society. But Noah was not most gentlemen. He rarely drank. He never swore. He cared what was in a lady’s head as much as what was on her person. He listened more than he talked. He made everyone—everyone—feel they were worthwhile. He was patient and kind and infinitely good.

And he loved her. Tabitha. He loved her despite (or perhaps even because of) the fact that she was not as thin as a stick. He loved her despite her preference for hiding. He loved her despite her tendency to run away from things that most people in the world would simply confront head-on.

He loved her.

His love made her feel warm and safe, and immeasurably treasured. She couldn’t think herself undeserving of any grand gesture he chose to make for her, no matter how foolish and reckless such an act may be. Doing so would be a great disservice to his devotion.

“Dry your eyes.” Gentle arms came around Tabitha and she blinked back tears to see. Elaine dabbed a handkerchief over Tabitha’s face and smiled. “He wants to see you, silly. Go on. Don’t keep him waiting.”

When Tabitha finally cleared all the remnants of her crying away, she was dazed to discover Hester in her chambers, looking expectantly upon her. Tabitha had been thoroughly ignorant of everything happening around her while she was lost in her own thoughts. She sniffled. “Don’t keep who waiting?”

“Your fiancé,” Jo replied. “He’s downstairs in the drawing room. No doubt he wishes to reassure you that he’ll handle the affront to your reputation and tell you there is nothing to worry about.”

Even whilst informing her he would be participating in a duel or two. Tabitha would somehow find a way to accept a grand gesture if he was so inclined to make one. She could accept a token of his love and believe herself deserving of it.

Just not this one.

“I’ll not stand for it.” Tabitha sat before Noah, her usually silvery eyes as black as a thundercloud, hands folded neatly on her lap, with posture as ramrod straight as the barrel of a gun.

After explaining everything that had transpired over the course of the day (much of which she appeared to already know, no doubt thanks to the ever-observant Miss Faulkner), this was far from the reaction he would have expected. Certainly it wasn’t the reaction he had hoped for.

“You don’t have a choice. This is not up for debate.” Raynesford’s words sliced the opaque silence of the room. Noah was thankful for them. He hadn’t a clue what he would have said, himself, but he doubted it would have been as succinct as his brother-in-law’s choice of phrasing.

Tabitha narrowed her eyes and glared at each of her brothers in turn. Yet another thing Noah was glad for—the presence of Raynesford and Shelton during this conversation. Their company helped to diffuse her ire amongst them. “Why is it that every time something involving me happens of late, I supposedly have no choice in the matter?”

“You want to answer this one, Devonport?” Shelton shrugged his shoulders. “You’ll be the one dealing with all of her antics soon enough.”

With a haughty cluck of her tongue, she turned her heated gaze on Noah.

“The challenge has already been issued and accepted, Tabitha. We’ll duel tomorrow, whether you are happy about the situation or not.”

“Back out of it. Call it off.”

Raynesford shook his head in disbelief. “He can’t do that, Tabitha.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” Shelton nearly shouted. His current state of inebriation seemed to make him think they were all hard of hearing.

Noah idly wondered if he’d behaved in a similar manner that day he’d gone overboard in his drinking with Leith.

“Christ, Tabitha, if he backs out that will only serve to cause even more problems than we already have. At least half the ton already knows about the duel, so backing out will damage his reputation. Then I’ll have to go through with the duels I threatened earlier. Oglethorpe, in order to protect your reputation, and Devonport in order to show the ton what we as a family think of his spineless behavior for backing out of the duel in the first place.”

She scoffed. “That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” Lord Newcastle said from the doorway. “It’s prudent. Devonport has to prove to the ton what we already know and believe about him. Like it or not, sweetheart, that is how it has to be.”

Tears pooled in her already red-rimmed eyes. “So you will not assist me, either, Father?” Tabitha hastily brushed one tear away as it escaped and fled down her cheek. “You’ll encourage this barbarism even though it is against the law? Even though it is the exact opposite of what I want?”

Newcastle crossed into the room and sat beside his daughter on the sofa. “You know we only want what is best for you. Even when it is sometimes not what you want.” He pulled his daughter into his arms and stroked her hair soothingly.

It was true. Noah could see it clearly. No matter how caustically her twin might treat her at times, no matter how baldly Raynesford might state things, no matter how aloof Newcastle might be with his affections, they all loved Tabitha more than they knew how to handle. She realized this, too. Somewhere, deep down, she had to know that her father and brothers would do anything they could to keep her safe and happy.

Noah would be joining good company in the morning.

After a minute, she pulled away from her father. “But what if Noah is hurt? He could be killed, you know.” Tabitha’s eyes widened with dawning fear. “Goodness, are you even a good shot?”

Talking Noah out of his blasted duel had not gone according to plan. Tabitha’s appeals to her father and brothers had fallen on deaf ears.

Chivalry be damned, if it involved risking life and limb. She could survive famously without so much as a trifling reputation, and with a husband who had no reputation, as long as it meant that she still had a husband.

If it meant she still had Noah.

She would be furious with him—with them all—if he was in pieces when he was supposed to be meeting her before the altar.

Noah’s assurances that he’d once held a dueling pistol and was quite sure he could determine how to operate the thing had achieved the opposite effect from what he’d intended. The blithering fool was going to get himself seriously injured, if not killed, if left to his own devices.

Lucky for him, Tabitha had no intention of leaving him to his own devices.

There was just one problem. She didn’t have the first inkling of an idea as to how she would to stop him. Particularly not since he had flatly refused to tell her where the duel was to take place. Father and her brothers were of the same accord.

But Tabitha would not be deterred. She’d spent twenty-nine years in training with Jo and Bethanne, crafting ways to thwart the plans of the men in their lives. And she had damned well not wasted all of that time and effort.

The first pink and orange streaks of dawn streaked across the sky, filtering through a slowly lifting fog as Noah stood waiting for Oglethorpe to arrive. Leith and Claremont had come with Noah, meeting him at deLancie House with a carriage in the pre-dawn hours. When they arrived at Hyde Park, Shelton and Raynesford were already there—alongside Newcastle. As a group, they’d gone back to the darker recesses of the park, away from the popular paths and trails.

Not that anyone else would be around to observe their proceedings at such an hour. The ladies and gentlemen of the ton rarely did so much as rise from their beds before the crack of noon. Being dressed and in public before the sun had come up was a downright preposterous idea.

Or so he’d thought. When Noah and his entourage arrived at the agreed-upon location, no fewer than three dozen other gentlemen stood around. He recognized some of them from White’s. A few nodded in his direction. Most looked anywhere but at him.

Lovely. Just what he needed. An audience.

The six men stood in a line, shoulder to shoulder, watching the opening in the trees for any sign of Oglethorpe and Eggerley while the growing gathering stood in groups behind them. With every passing moment, Noah’s nerves increased until he felt like a rampaging hoard of elephants were traversing Britain, using his stomach as a stomping ground.

“Remember what I told you,” Leith muttered under his breath as they waited—loud enough for only Noah to hear. “Keep your arm straight and your breathing under control. Squeeze the trigger in a fluid motion. Don’t jerk your finger on the trigger, or you’ll probably jerk your arm. And we don’t want that to happen.”

“Right. No jerking. Arm straight.” It would be bad enough if he hit his intended target. Noah definitely didn’t want to hit anyone else.

“Pull straight back on it, too,” Claremont added, “not to one side or the other. And don’t wait too long once you’ve raised it. You’ll move around too much, otherwise.”

“Straight back. Shoot soon after raising.” Every heartbeat sounded like a clap of thunder in his head. He shouldn’t have done this. What was he thinking? Noah hadn’t shot a pistol in his life. This had to be one of the stupidest, the most idiotic, the most imbecilic thing he’d ever done.

Raynesford clapped him on the shoulder. “When it’s over, we’ll all be here.”

“Good.” Breathing. Leith had said something about breathing.

“And don’t get yourself killed,” Shelton said. “You’ve got a wedding to attend in just over three hours.”

Noah nodded. That, at least, he couldn’t forget if he tried. The rest, however...

As Oglethorpe and Eggerley finally made their way across the expanse of meadow, Newcastle eyed him from the end of the line. “Any last-second questions?”

Licking his lips, which were suddenly dry, Noah said, “Just one. How do I load the thing?”

All of his companions burst out into laughter. How terribly polite of them.

“You really haven’t ever shot a pistol, then, have you?” Shelton barked. “Please tell me this duel is just to first blood or something else of the sort.”

“Sounds to me like he hasn’t the first clue about dueling, in general,” Claremont said. “Did you even designate how the outcome will be determined?”

Was he supposed to have? By Jove, what else didn’t he know?

Leith sobered sooner than the rest. “As your second, I’ll load for you. All you have to do is cock the hammer and fire.” The look on Noah’s face then must have been sheer terror, because Leith rushed on with, “I’ll show you how to work the hammer. It’ll be fine. I hope.”

Newcastle crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “It had better be fine. If I have to go home and explain to my daughter that her fiancé is dead, I’ll kill you myself.”

Why did the entire Shelton family find such jokes amusing?

There was no more time to mull that over, though. Oglethorpe and Eggerley had nearly reached the middle of the clearing. Noah looked to Leith, who nodded. As one, they made their way across to meet their adversaries in the center.

In one hand, Eggerley carried a wooden box decorated in ornate metalwork. When they were only a few steps away from each other, Noah could finally get a good look at it. The intricate, arabesque lines carried a French feel, like it had been crafted at Versailles. Did the man participate in enough duels to justify such an expense? Apparently so.

“No chance you’re going to back down, Devonport, is there?” Eggerley asked. “Showing up with this sort of a throng assembled as witnesses ought to be enough to appease your honor. We’re all here, and you can just call yourself satisfied and be done with it.”

Noah shouldn’t go through with it. He’d get himself killed. He’d hardly ever touched a dueling pistol before, and he had never in his life fired one. For that matter, he hadn’t held any sort of firearm at all since he was a lad on his father’s farm, out hunting quail for supper.

But this wasn’t about Noah’s honor. It was about Tabitha.

“I’m not satisfied. Not yet.”

Leith cleared his throat. “But if Oglethorpe would admit his lie before the gentlemen present—if he would retract his claim about Lady Tabitha and apologize to Lord Devonport, Lord Newcastle, Lord Raynesford, and Mr. Shelton—then, perhaps, Devonport might consider himself satisfied.”

Noah nodded. That would be enough. And then he could walk away without a bleeding hole in his person.

“Not a chance,” Oglethorpe sneered. “But Devonport, have no fear. Once I’ve put you six feet under, I’ll make amends with Lady Tabitha and be sure her honor is restored. I’m sure Newcastle will agree to anything at that point, in order to marry her off.”

Red. Everywhere he looked, Noah saw red, and his blood felt like it was boiling in his chest. That couldn’t happen. No matter what happened to him, he couldn’t allow anything bad to happen to Tabitha.

Leith acted as a calming influence by his side. “Well, I suppose there is no option but to proceed, then. Eggerley, present your barking irons.”

The craven, simpering man opened his wooden case and revealed two matching pistols. Noah focused on the design of them so as not to think about what he was about to do. The rich walnut wood gleamed beneath more of the intricate burnished silver patterns over the handles, in the same manner as adorned the box itself. They lay upon a rich, red velvet lining.

It was all so luxurious, so ornate, so delicate almost. So wholly opposite of what they were designed to do.

Reaching a hand inside, Leith extracted one pistol and began to load it. Watching the process was enough to convince Noah he never wanted to repeat it again. Flint and powder, ball and patch, pressing it all into place with the rod—if he ever had to do it himself, he’d forget half the steps, or do them in the wrong order. But Leith’s hands flew through the process with ease. He finished loading the barrel, poured an amount of gun powder into the pan, and then waited for Eggerley to complete the process with the other pistol.

Wordlessly, Leith and Eggerley exchanged their pistols and examined them before trading them back.

“All set?” Oglethorpe asked. He took his pistol from Eggerley’s hands without waiting for a response. “Let’s get started then.”

Leith put the pistol into Noah’s hand, positioning his fingers just so. “Aim and shoot. It’s all set for you.” He walked out into the clearing, leading Noah to stand with his back to Oglethorpe’s. Ever so quietly, so soft that Noah almost couldn’t hear, he said, “Be sure you shoot first.”

Noah’s pulse roared through his ears. He tried to catch a breath, but all the air kept escaping him, like it was floating away above his head along with the mist and fog that was rising from the ground.

“Ten paces?” Oglethorpe asked.

Would ten paces be enough to prevent Oglethorpe from connecting with his shot? Noah had to hope so. “Yes. Ten paces.”

“On my count, then,” Leith said. His voice sounded like it was far away, and maybe underwater. Each second that ticked by felt bloated. Distended. Just as Noah’s body might be in mere moments.

“One.”

Noah took a step. His foot made contact with the ground beneath him, slipping slightly on the dewy grass. Somehow, he kept himself upright. The scene before him blurred though, so he closed his eyes. Better to step blindly than to get dizzy and fall.

“Two.”

Another step. Was it too late to call it off? No, he couldn’t do that. Shelton, Raynesford, and Newcastle would fight over who got to kill him, then. Leith and Claremont might even join in. Noah took a shaky breath. It would all be much easier if his legs would stop shaking.

“Three.”

Did he take a step? He wasn’t sure. But at least he was still standing. The wind blew and rustled the tail of his coat. That only served to make it shake like the rest of him.

“Four.”

This time, Noah knew he took a step. He knew it because he nearly twisted his ankle in the little hole his foot landed in. Biting back a curse, he straightened himself.

“Five.”

Was that a horse galloping? Couldn’t be. Must be his pulse. Noah shook his head to clear it and took a step. Imagining things would not help right now.

“Six.”

Good God, it was getting louder and louder by the moment. Probably because his death was growing closer and closer by the moment. He took a step.

“Seven.”

Forcing his foot to leave the ground and move forward before rejoining the earth was becoming ever more difficult. A horse nickered. That was definitely a horse, and not some sign of terror coming from his own person. Noah whipped his eyes open and turned in the direction the sound had come from.

Definitely a horse.

Racing straight toward him, no less. A white charger with a rider would overtake him in seconds, if he didn’t move. Long brown hair whipped around the rider’s head, and rich blue skirts did the same about the rider’s legs as they were draped over the saddle, riding like a man. She rode neck-or-nothing out of the rising dawn, streaks of pink and gold and orange painting the sky around her so she looked like Athena, the warrior-goddess, racing to his rescue. Noah could do nothing but stand and stare, dumbfounded.

“Tabitha! What in bloody hell are you doing here?” Shelton’s words cut through the fog in Noah’s head. “On a horse, no less. I thought she was afraid of riding.”

“She is,” Raynesford said. Trust him to keep it short and to the point.

Oglethorpe threw up his arms. “What the blazes is going on here? I thought we were having a duel.”

Tabitha drew up on the reins and the horse came to a stop just before they trampled Noah. “Help me off this damned thing.”

With one arm around her waist and the other holding the pistol like his life depended on it, Noah lifted her down to stand by his side.

“Is it loaded?” she asked. He stood there mutely, still unable to speak. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, with her silver eyes flashing in the intensifying light of the morning.

He should order her to go home. He should demand an explanation for her behavior, for why she was there, for how she had learned where they would even be that morning. He should find his sister and Miss Faulkner, and berate them heartily for allowing Tabitha out of their sight.

All he wanted to do was kiss her.

But before he could kiss her or chastise her, or do anything else for that matter, she ripped the pistol from his hand and turned it on him, turning one side of her lips down into a frown. “I told you I wouldn’t stand for it.”

Tabitha wasn’t sure how it had worked out this way, but her arm was steady. Everything inside her was quaking, though. Particularly her nerves. Damnation, now what was she going to do? She ought to have thought this all through a bit further than just getting to the location where the duel was to take place.

Why had she yanked the pistol from his hand? Even worse than that, why had she turned it on him? Ever so slowly, Noah raised his hands out between the two of them. His eyes were as wide as she’d ever seen them, and somehow they kept getting wider. With a tiny motion, he shook his head.

“What is that supposed to mean? No what?” Tabitha brought the barrel of the pistol up to Noah’s face, pointing straight between his eyes.

“It’s loaded and ready to fire,” Toby said from behind her. She whirled around and aimed it at him. He, too, raised his hands as though to capitulate. “Don’t do anything rash.”

Too blasted late for that, now, wasn’t it? Her gaze swung over the gathering behind her father and brothers, all the while taking great care to keep her arm steady. Most of the gentlemen wore aghast expressions, but a few seemed enthralled as they watched the proceedings in a hush.

Owen took two long, slow strides toward her. “Hand it to me.” He stretched out his hand, as though she would do as she said, like a good girl.

Tabitha was done being a good girl. She was finished with being told what to do and when to do it, with having her entire life dictated by the men in her family where she had no voice, no part in making the decisions that would affect her as much as anyone. “Stop where you are or I’ll use it on you.” For the moment, she kept it trained on Toby. He deserved a ball to the chest more than any of them. But if Owen didn’t stop advancing on her soon, she’d change her mind. For a moment, she wished she could shoot and reload. But none of them would be so stupid as to give her another ball and more powder.

Lucky for him, he stopped, drawing up into a position only a few feet away from her. Owen kept his hands where she could see them. Another intelligent decision on his part.

“Are we having a duel here or not?” Oglethorpe shouted from across the way. “I would prefer not to spend all day on this.” When Tabitha looked in his direction, he was coming closer to her, as well. He still carried his pistol, but it was down at his side.

This would be much easier if he wasn’t armed. Not that she had a clue what she would do, but undoubtedly her chances of escaping this mess with no one getting hurt would be exponentially increased if no one else had a weapon. She could control herself. Others, however? Not so easy to control.

Before she could think better of it, Tabitha turned her pistol on Oglethorpe. “Stop where you are and put the pistol on the ground.”

He laughed. The bloody blackguard dared to laugh at her. “Devonport couldn’t handle his duel on his own, could he? He needed to bring in his fat cow of a fiancée to take care of things for him?”

A collective chorus of indrawn breaths came from the onlookers at his insult, but Tabitha couldn’t be bothered by it. She expected that and worse from the lecherous wretch. What she found more bothersome was the fact that so many apparent “gentlemen” had come to witness such a barbarous activity.

“No less than I’d expect from such a milksop.” Oglethorpe continued toward her, closing the distance between them with every word and waving his weapon about as he spoke. If he wasn’t careful, he would fire the thing at random. He could hit anyone.

Father. Owen. Toby. Noah. She couldn’t let that happen. If anyone was going to shoot one of them, it was damned well going to be Tabitha.

“I’ve already warned you once, Lord Oglethorpe. I’ll not warn you again.” She aimed her pistol at his heart.

“Finally grown a backbone, have we, Lady Tabitha?” Coming to a standstill, Oglethorpe smirked. “You’re quite the feisty wench—I realized that from our tryst here at Hyde Park a few weeks ago. I expected you to run home to your dear Papa then, and this would have all been settled long ago. But you bowled me over. Didn’t say a word to him, did you? Or your brothers, either? I should have gone to them and told them what a common doxy you are then. We could have been married right away and avoided this whole scenario.” Throughout his speech, he continued to wave the pistol about like it was nothing more dangerous than a lady’s fan.

“What are you saying?” Father took a few steps closer to Oglethorpe before turning and catching Tabitha’s eye. “What is he saying, Tabitha?”

She shook her head. In the intervening weeks, Tabitha had done everything in her power to avoid thinking about Oglethorpe. To avoid thinking about what he’d almost done to her, the way he’d tried to ravish her. Tears stung at her eyes and blurred her vision, but she fought them down.

Behind her, Noah moved closer. She felt him more than heard him. His heat told her he was close enough to touch her, close enough to rip the pistol from her hands, close enough to move between her and Oglethorpe, but he didn’t. He was just there. Calming. Soothing. Letting her know he was there if she needed him.

If she needed him. If.

What a freeing thought. Noah was going to let her handle the situation. He wasn’t going to make a decision and force her to live with it. She was in control, this time.

“He’s revealing himself for the libertine he is, Father.” With deliberate care, Tabitha pulled back the hammer until it clicked into place. In the silence that had descended over the clearing, the sound carried well. It almost seemed to echo, like it was caught in the slowly lifting fog, destined to repeat until all of the mist had disintegrated into the atmosphere. “I’ll ask you one final time to put the pistol on the ground. If you don’t, I’ll shoot.”

He sneered, like he didn’t believe she would do it. Or perhaps as though he suspected her aim would fail. “Be a good wench and give the gun to your namby-pamby fiancé over there, so he and I can finish what we started.” Once more, he waved the pistol.

Tabitha couldn’t be held to blame for Oglethorpe’s churlishness, nor for his idiocy. Why did the man insist on endangering everyone present? And the way he continued to cast aspersions on Noah’s character was beyond the pale. In an instant, she adjusted her aim and fired.

It hit him in the upper arm. The horse whinnied beside her and pulled away, dashing off into the park. Oglethorpe screamed and dropped the pistol he’d been holding, grasping at the bleeding wound with his other hand. “Good thing your aim is poor, you fat bitch.”

Briskly, Tabitha moved over to where he’d dropped the firearm and grabbed it before any of the men scrambling to pick it up could do so, dropping her discharged pistol in the process. A good half of the observers had made an attempt at Oglethorpe’s weapon, and she waved the barrel in their direction, silently warning them to back off before returning her focus to Oglethorpe.

“On the contrary, you’re quite fortunate my aim is precise. You can thank my brothers for that. They took great pains to instruct me in all variety of pursuits you might find improper for a lady. But then again, you don’t seem to think of me as a lady, so perhaps I’m mistaken on that point.”

She cocked the hammer of his loaded weapon and pointed it at his face, point-blank. “Now, I’d appreciate it if you would stop calling me a wench, my lord. And cease insulting my fiancé. It makes my fingers itch, and I might accidentally fire again.”

A few of the men in their audience chuckled.

Oglethorpe cast his eyes about madly, scanning the crowd. “What are you all waiting for? The bitch shot me, and she’s threatening to do it again. She ought to be imprisoned. Someone call the watch.”

“I don’t think you want to do that, Oglethorpe,” Lord Leith said from by her side. When had he moved? She hadn’t heard him, and she certainly hadn’t seen him. “Lady Tabitha has done nothing wrong, from what I can tell. And you might want to rethink what you just called her.”

Oglethorpe lunged forward. “Nothing wrong? I could bleed to death.”

“From my perspective, that would be a vast improvement.” Toby stepped closer, putting a hand out to stop Oglethorpe’s progress. “Besides, nothing would happen to Tabitha if the watch came. I’m the one who shot you.”

Tabitha shook her head at him. “No you’re not. I did it.”

“No, I did it. I shot him.” Noah came to stand by her other side. He took her free hand and pressed it firmly, enveloping her in his warmth. “It was my duel.”

“You can’t have shot the bastard, Devonport,” Owen said. He took up a position near Toby and Oglethorpe. “I did it.”

Father and Christopher moved in, each claiming to have fired the shot at the same time as nearly half the gentlemen in their audience did the same.

“You’re all mad,” Oglethorpe shouted. “Eggerley, fetch the watch. And a doctor while you’re at it.” He was shaking, whether from loss of blood or anger, she couldn’t tell.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Eggerley,” Father said coolly. “It would be the word of the two of you against all of us.”

Owen looked at the wound on Oglethorpe’s arm. “The shot went straight through. You’re fine.” He pulled Oglethorpe’s coat off of him and wrapped it around his arm. “Hold that tight. It’ll stop the bleeding. And I’d suggest, if Devonport agrees and is satisfied, that we call this duel settled.” Owen ignored the look of abject outrage on Oglethorpe’s face and turned to Noah.

“I’m satisfied,” Noah said.

Tabitha jerked her hand in his and he squeezed. It was a let-me-handle-this sort of motion. Damn and blast, she had thought they were past that. She was not going to just stand by and let him decide this. “I’m not satisfied. Since I’m the only person to have fired a shot in this duel, and since I’m the party over whom the duel is being fought, I think it should be my satisfaction we should be looking to secure.”

“Agreed,” called out an unfamiliar voice from the crush of onlookers. “Let the lady do as she will with the sorry rat.” Noah and the rest of her family looked between each other and eventually nodded.

Keeping her weapon trained on Oglethorpe, she took a breath to steady her thoughts. Tabitha wanted to be sure she covered everything. “We’ll let you leave with no more than the two holes in your arm if you cooperate.” When he finally nodded his assent, she continued. “You’ll admit before every gentleman present that you lied and that nothing took place between us at Vauxhall—that we did not so much as speak a word to each other, in fact. And I’m sure that I can count on their assistance in making certain that word will spread to the rest of the ton of your lie.”

A murmur of assent traveled over the crowd. Oglethorpe cast his eyes about, likely looking for someone to side with him. “Fine.”

“You’ll also refrain from making any disparaging comments about either myself or Lord Devonport in the future, or you’ll find yourself right back here.”

Oglethorpe nodded. “Satisfied now?” he drawled.

“Yes, I believe—”

“Not quite yet,” Noah interrupted. “We want one more thing. You’ll take out a page in the Times telling the entire beau monde that you’re a lying fortune hunter. I want a full page, detailing for every mother of a young miss, for every father of a debutante, all of the countless ways you’ve schemed to leg-shackle yourself to a lady with a generous portion.” He looked around at the throng of gentlemen, each of them grinning from ear to ear as Oglethorpe squirmed and the color drained from his face, and nodded. “And I can assure you, there are enough of us present who know enough of your exploits that we’ll know if you leave anything out. Understood?”

Oglethorpe nodded, but Toby apparently wanted more. He took Oglethorpe’s arm, just where the wound was, and gripped hard. “Give Devonport an answer.”

“Yes. Understood.” Oglethorpe’s voice was hardly more than a squeak.

“Excellent. Then I believe we are all satisfied. Correct?” Toby turned and looked to each of them in turn, waiting for a nod of affirmation. “Off you go, then. I expect to see your page in tomorrow’s paper, Oglethorpe. It can be your wedding gift to the happy couple. Don’t make me hunt you down.”

Before anyone could change their minds, Oglethorpe scurried away, holding his bloodied coat over his arm, with Eggerley hot on his tail. Tabitha watched them go until their forms disappeared behind the trees and she couldn’t see them any longer.

Noah’s hands ran over her shoulders and her arms, lowering the one still holding the pistol in a death-grip until it was pointed at the ground. Lord Leith took the barrel in his hand and tugged gently, but she couldn’t release it. “Let go, sweetheart,” Noah urged in her ear. “It’s over now.”

But her hand had been molded around the wooden butt of the gun for so long, with her fingers positioned just so, she didn’t know how to release it. One by one, her fingers were pried loose and the pistol came free.

Strong arms came about her and picked her up. “I’ve got you,” Noah said. “You can stop shaking now.”

Shaking? She didn’t realize she’d been shaking. How long had that been happening? Tabitha buried her face in the crook of Noah’s neck and breathed in the familiar scent of his cologne.

“My carriage is closest,” Father said from somewhere behind them. “Let’s get her home.”

Moments later, Noah placed her on the seat of her father’s carriage and sat beside her. He brushed a few stray hairs away from her face and kissed her over her cheeks.

“Oh, but the horse!” In all that had happened since, Tabitha had forgotten about the horse she’d taken from her father’s stables.

“Leith is taking care of it,” Toby said as he climbed in after them. “He’ll manage that and he’ll still make it to the wedding on time.” The wedding. Devil take it, how could she go and sit through a wedding after the morning she’d had? She wanted to enjoy her own wedding, after all. But Toby was still prattling on. “Speaking of the horse, what in God’s name were you thinking riding in like that?”

And Toby was back to being Toby. Picking at her mercilessly. Tabitha huffed.

“She was perfect,” Noah said. He smiled down at her with such devotion, she thought she’d melt from it. “My knightess in shimmering muslin, racing in to save the day on a white charger.”

Tabitha felt a blush rising up the back of her neck at his words and turned away. Father and Owen were climbing into the carriage, so that was enough distraction that she hoped the conversation would move to something else.

Once they were all settled inside and Father rapped on the wood to signal the driver into motion, Noah turned back to Tabitha. “Promise me one thing.”

She looked up at him dubiously. She wasn’t going to make any promises until she knew what she was agreeing to.

“Promise you’ll never hold a loaded gun to my face again.”

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God,” Mr. Hyde said loudly over the echoing stillness in the small church, “and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony.” Noah tried to concentrate on the parson’s words, but too many thoughts were flying through his head as he stood beside Tabitha.

After they had returned Tabitha to Shelton Hall earlier, they’d sent her up to her chamber to prepare for the wedding. He, however, had been brought in to Newcastle’s library. Explaining what had happened between Oglethorpe and Tabitha weeks before at Hyde Park to her father and brothers had been uncomfortable, at best. Lucky for him, he’d been unable to burn the memory from her explanation from his mind, despite his countless attempts. But if he could survive the experience of having her turn his own dueling pistol on him, then he could survive anything the Shelton men wanted to throw at him.

While they hadn’t been overly pleased that he’d kept that information from them—and also the information about Oglethorpe and Eggerley’s wager—they had eventually agreed that Noah had handled it all as well as could be expected. Better, perhaps, than Shelton would have done.

They were all in agreement over that one.

But now, with Tabitha standing beside him before the parson, wearing a floaty, diaphanous white gown, Noah still hadn’t managed to force himself to stop shaking. Somehow, he imagined it might never stop. Maybe it was a sign of being in love with her. Or of Tabitha loving him enough to brave riding a horse, despite her fear of such an activity, racing in to shoot the villain and save the day. How could he deserve such a courageous woman as his wife?

But Noah knew better than to let such questions sink in. He said a little prayer of thanks for the providence he’d been granted.

Tabitha looked up at him and smiled, a shy and beguiling smile that brought him back to the present just in time to hear the parson’s question.

“Will you have this woman as your wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, honor her, and keep her in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, so long as you both shall live?”

A chorus burst to life in his head, rejoicing to finally be able to answer this question. By Jove, yes. A thousand times, yes. Noah stared down into her laughing eyes, silvery and light today, and could have wept with joy at the love he found there. Tabitha squeezed his hand. A moment later, Mr. Hyde cleared his throat and waggled an eyebrow at Noah when he looked up. “Oh. Right. I will.” How could he have neglected to answer? He chuckled at himself, earning a little titter from Tabitha as well.

“And will you have this man as your wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you obey him, serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him—” Mr. Hyde paused and winked at Noah before delivering the last portion of Tabitha’s vows—“and will you promise never again to draw a pistol on him, so long as you both shall live?”

“I will.” Tabitha’s voice rang out clearly in the small parish church after a brief glare in Noah’s direction, so there could be no doubt. The bouquet of poppies rustled in her hands as she passed them off to Miss Faulkner.

Then Mr. Hyde turned them to face each other, taking one another’s hands and looking into one another’s eyes. They said their vows, promising to love and to cherish until death. When prodded by the parson, Noah placed a ring on Tabitha’s finger and repeated the words he was prompted to repeat.

“With this ring, I thee wed, with my body, I thee worship—” if only she had any idea how much he intended to worship her with his body over the next lifetime or two—“and with all my worldly goods, I thee endow. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

Was it over yet? Noah had never been able to pay much attention during the wedding ceremonies of his sisters and his mother. They had seemed to go on and on. But no, this one had yet to finish. Mr. Hyde gestured for them to kneel as he said a prayer. Noah bit back a groan of impatience and did as he was directed.

The sooner they could leave the church, the sooner he could get Tabitha back to Shelton Hall for the wedding breakfast. And the sooner that took place, the sooner they could leave Shelton Hall and begin their honeymoon.

Today, they would just return to deLancie House. He didn’t want to begin a journey in the middle of the day. And he did want to take her to bed as soon as possible.

Making love to Tabitha beneath the fireworks display at Vauxhall had not been enough. Not nearly enough. He wanted to love her slowly, to keep her in bed for long hours while they explored each other.

Mr. Hyde’s voice grew louder, recalling Noah’s attention to the matter at hand. “Those whom God has joined together, let no man put asunder.” He motioned for Noah and Tabitha to once again rise to their feet. Had the ceremony finished now? Apparently not. The parson continued speaking, turning his focus now to the guests at the wedding.

But at least they didn’t have to sit through the rest of it on their knees.

Tabitha caught Noah’s eye and winked. “Not much longer,” she whispered. Either she felt as anxious as he did, or she could tell how restless he was to finalize everything and move on with the day. Not just with the day—with their new life together.

Noah watched his wife through the rest of the service. His wife! He liked the sound of it. Everything about her was fascinating to him. The way she toyed with the pearls around her neck. The sleekness of her lips under her tongue when she’d wet them. The way her breathing would increase under his attentions and her breasts would lift and fall beneath the fabric of her gown.

He probably ought not to be thinking about her breasts at the moment. They were in a church. But maybe God would understand. After all, He’d been the one to make such a glorious creation. Surely God would want others to appreciate His handiwork.

Finally, Mr. Hyde smiled down at the two of them again. “Lord Devonport, you may now kiss your bride.”

Thank God. He thought they’d never get to that part. Taking her face between his hands, Noah pulled Tabitha close and kissed her tenderly. He had to restrain himself from kissing her more fully. It felt wrong, since they were in church. All the more reason to get out of there as fast as they could.

“And now, allow me to present Lord and Lady Devonport.”

Noah and Tabitha turned and joined hands as the small gathering—primarily family for both of them—rose from the pews and applauded. The guests made their way down the aisle and out of the church to await the new couple.

In Noah’s ear, the parson said, “I’ll just need you two to sign the register before you leave.” He directed them over to where it stood and opened it to the appropriate page. Noah signed and then passed the quill to Tabitha. Even watching her sign her name, the gentle swirl her hand made over the parish register, made his breath catch in his throat. He was truly a lost cause.

Good thing they were actually married now. He might not let her out of bed for a week, if something so mundane as watching her sign her name had him in such a state.

Leith and Miss Faulkner also signed the register, as the witnesses to the event, and then they all made their way out. When they walked through the doors of the church, their families cheered as Noah and Tabitha dashed for the waiting carriage. Once inside, he emptied a bag of coins and tossed them in handfuls out the door.

“I love you, Tabitha.” Noah kissed her again before rapping the wall of the carriage to signal the driver they were ready.

“I love you, too. Even if you sprung that little line into my vows with no warning.”

Noah chuckled. “I can’t very well take any chances on that matter.”

Tabitha frowned, but didn’t contradict him. When they had been traveling for a few minutes, she slid closer to him on the bench, drawing her hand along his thigh and stopping just shy of his burgeoning erection. “Do we have to go back to Shelton Hall? Why don’t we go straight home? My trunks have already been sent over, I’m sure.”

Home. Her home. Their home. “Don’t think the idea hasn’t already crossed my mind at least a thousand times in the last half hour.” Noah pinched his eyes closed and tried not to picture her naked. Her father and brothers would murder him if they didn’t make it to the wedding breakfast.

Gleefully.

Tabitha leaned into him further, until her breath tickled the lobe of his ear with each whispered word. “If you’re thinking it, and I’m thinking it, then what is stopping us? We’re married now.” She inched her hand higher, until it ever-so-lightly brushed over the hard evidence of his arousal.

He sucked in a lungful of air. “We have to at least make an appearance, Tabitha. Not for long. I’ll find an excuse to escape as soon as we can.”

With a pout that sent devilish images of a dozen better uses for her lips racing through his mind, Tabitha flopped back against the squabs. “Fine. Go on and ruin my plans to seduce you in the carriage.”

“Trust me. They all know we want to leave as soon as possible, not to mention why.”

Tabitha’s eyes flashed silver like lightning in the night sky as she frowned at him. “Precisely the problem. Do you honestly believe Toby will let us leave easily?”

“He’ll be perfectly glad to see us go, if it means I won’t toss up your skirts and claim my rights as your husband on the breakfast table,” Noah said with a chuckle.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Crossing her arms over her chest only served to push her bosom higher and therefore drew his attention there, instead of achieving the haughty deportment he assumed she’d been going for.

“But can your brother be sure of that?” At the moment, Noah wasn’t wholly sure he wouldn’t dare. He wondered how fast he and Tabitha could manage to eat their meal and make their excuses.

Not nearly fast enough. That much was certain.

It was hardly past noon when Noah finally led Tabitha into her rooms—the marchioness’s rooms—at deLancie House, but it felt like it should be much later than that. The day had been one of the longest in his life. In a good way.

Well, it hadn’t started out so wonderfully, but that was ancient history.

Just as they came through the doors, Tabitha’s lady’s maid had finished pulling the draperies back to allow sunshine to flood into the chamber. She gave a brief curtsey. “Lord Devonport, Lady Devonport. Your belongings are all in your dressing room, my lady,” Hester said. “Miss Faulkner also had your trousseau sent over.”

“Thank you,” Tabitha said. “Would you mind—”

“That will be all for today, Hester,” Noah interrupted. “Lady Devonport will have no more need of your assistance until morning.” From behind her, he could see the heated blush creeping up her the back of Tabitha’s neck. Today, he would discover just how many places turned pink on her body when she was abashed just so.

She flipped around to him. “Oh, but I’ll need—”

“Anything you need until morning, I’ll provide.” And then some. Actually, and then a lot more.

Tabitha couldn’t have mistaken the desire in his voice. Hester clearly hadn’t. “I’ll be off then, my lady. Ring when you need me tomorrow.” Skirting around the bed, she darted out the door to Tabitha’s dressing room and was gone in an instant.

For a moment, they stood there looking at each other. Noah studied every plane of her face. The high cheekbones. The long, straight nose. Those full, luscious lips pursed together, letting him know she wasn’t happy with his decision.

She’d change her mind soon enough.

Noah placed his hands on the slope of her shoulders. So soft. So delicate. So pink. She trembled lightly beneath his touch, but her eyes never wavered. With deliberate care, he slid his hands down her back to the first tiny pearl button keeping her enclosed in the gauzy gown.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Tabitha said. She reached for his cravat and started to tug. In mere seconds she had it free and tossed to the floor, and then set to work loosening his shirt. “I thought I would explode if I didn’t get to touch you soon.”

Noah grabbed her hands and stilled them. “No. We’re doing things my way this time, Tabitha.” She started to complain, but he caught her argument in a kiss. Not a searing kiss. Nothing all-consuming or overwhelming or needy. Just a kiss. Tender. Loving. Slow. Soft.

Just how he intended to make love to her.

Just like she deserved.

Little by little, he deepened the kiss. Her lips gave way, and he stroked his tongue inside. Peaches. She tasted sweet, like the strawberries and peaches they’d eaten as part of their breakfast celebration. Someday, he’d remember to thank Miss Faulkner for that little touch.

When he angled his head and took the kiss deeper still, a little hum sounded deep in her throat. She grabbed onto the lapels of his coat and held on like she was afraid she’d fall otherwise. Maybe he could move on now.

Without removing his mouth from hers, Noah went back to work on the buttons at the back of her gown. With painstaking care, he undid them one at a time. There must have been over a hundred of those little pearl fastenings. The process was torturous exultation. Every clasp undone brought him a moment closer to heaven.

Halfway down her back, Noah broke off the kiss as Tabitha’s bodice began to fall forward, revealing tantalizing glimpses of her breasts through the paper-thin shift. He groaned at the strain of taking his time.

“Let me help,” Tabitha said. “I can move things along more swiftly.”

“No.” His erection was full and his sac felt heavy with need. But some things shouldn’t be rushed. Some things ought to be savored.

Trailing a path of kisses along her jaw and down her neck, he continued releasing the complicated line of closures until his hands were over her perfectly rounded derrière. If not for his hands moving over her and the small cap sleeves, the gown would be on the floor. Come to think of it, that was precisely where he wanted her gown to be.

Noah released her for a moment and gave the dress a little tug, marveling as the gossamer-fine fabric fluttered down to pool at her feet. Tabitha was left in her shift, drawers, and stockings, with dainty little slippers on her feet. The bright, mid-day sun flitted through the sheer underclothes, outlining her curves in exquisite detail. Her pert nipples were already pebbled and begging for his attention beneath the barely-there fabric.

Tabitha hugged her arms over her chest, attempting to hide herself from his view. “Should we close the draperies?”

“No. I want to see you.” Noah brought her close, pulling her arms away from her body. Her neck and cheeks were flushed pink again and she looked down at the floor. “Don’t hide from me, Tabitha. You’re so beautiful.”

Shaking her head, she opened her mouth to speak. Noah placed a finger over her lips to stop her and pulled her close with his other hand around her waist. “You are. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’ll not deny you much, if I can help it. But you are not allowed to doubt how beautiful you are to me.” Tears sprung into her eyes. “Ever. Understood?”

Tabitha nodded, fighting to keep the tears at bay.

“Good. Now let me see you.” Before she could argue, Noah lifted the hem of her shift and tugged it over her head. He took a step back, holding her hands to prevent her from covering her breasts. If anyone was going to do that, it was him.

He would, too. But not yet. Noah pulled at the strings holding Tabitha’s drawers up. In seconds they, too, fell to her feet, leaving her with only her stockings and slippers. She gasped. The curls at the apex of her legs matched the shade of her hair. If he didn’t get her into bed soon, he would lose the small amount of control he still retained. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her over to the four-poster bed he’d asked to be prepared with the finest silk beddings he owned. He pulled down the counterpane and gingerly placed her on her back.

Noah sat beside her legs, taking one foot into his hands to slide the slipper free. He massaged her foot, easing her tension with each stroke. She squirmed against him, but he had no intention of moving things along until he was ready. When he could feel no more resistance, he replaced that foot on the bed and repeated the process with her other foot.

“Take off your clothes. I want you to bed me.” With her free foot, Tabitha tried to slip it over his leg and use it to stroke his erection.

Noah pushed her foot away. “I’ve already told you. My way this time. I intend to spend hours exploring your body, finding every sensitive spot, every place that makes you gasp and moan. I want you to know how much I adore you. How much I need you in my life. How perfect you are for me, in every way.”

To emphasize his point, he licked the bottom of her foot through her stocking, grazing the arch with his teeth before sucking her toes into his mouth one at a time. Tabitha bucked her hips in response and let out a little mewl. Her wetness was already glistening over the tangle of her curls, without him even touching her breasts or her sex. By Jove, she was so responsive.

When he brushed his hands up the curves of her legs to her knees, she whimpered. Noah lavished equal attention on her calves, the underside of her knee, the length of her thighs, as he had done with her feet.

By the time he had finished, she was a heated, writhing jumble of desire. “Touch me. Blast, Noah, I need you to touch me or I’ll go mad.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing this last while?” Noah stifled a chuckle at the outrage in her near-black eyes. “Where do you need me to touch you, love? I want you to touch yourself for me.”

Tabitha’s eyes shot wide. “What? I can’t do that.” That glorious blush sprawled over her again, her neck and cheeks, her breasts, all the way down her stomach until it disappeared somewhere near her navel.

He couldn’t resist licking her there, tasting her navel and feeling her core jump at the unexpected touch. “You can. Anything that happens between us is all right, sweetheart. There is to be no shame between us.”

She hesitated. Her eyes showed her fear. But slowly, ever so slowly, Tabitha lifted her hands off the bed sheets and placed them on her breasts. At the faintest touch, her eyes darkened, ardor overtaking the fear.

Noah’s erection became even harder, pulsating against the flap of his breeches at the sight. He needed to get his clothes off, and he needed them off now. Noah tugged at his Hessians and flung them across the room, then set to work on the rest of his garments. “Show me. Show me how you want me to touch you.”

Tabitha flattened her dainty hands over her breasts and squeezed lightly at first, tentatively. Letting out a little groan, she closed her eyes and pressed them harder.

“Open your eyes. Watch me.” He had his coat, waistcoat, and shirt off now and was fighting with the buttons holding his flap up as Tabitha snapped her eyes open again and met his. Almost frantic with need, Noah couldn’t take his gaze from his beautiful wife pleasuring herself. For him. She was doing it for him.

Rolling her nipples between thumbs and forefingers, Tabitha whimpered. “Hurry. I need...” Her voice trailed off as her hips rose up off the bed.

“What do you need? Show me what you need.”

Her right hand left her breast and hesitantly moved down her body, her fingers dipping below her curls into the gateway to his piece of heaven on earth. He had to touch her. Noah’s need—Tabitha’s need—it was all too great to wait any longer. The last of the buttons of his breeches wouldn’t give, so he ripped, pulling them down along with his smallclothes, all in one motion.

As soon as his clothes were free, Noah returned to the bed and supplanted her hand with his own. He placed two fingers inside her wet heat and stroked, rubbing his thumb over her straining nub. Within seconds, she was shuddering, pulsing beneath his attentions, rocking her hips forward to match him stroke for stroke. She called out something inarticulate and magnificent.

“Yes. Come for me, love.” While she was still in the throes of her climax, Noah positioned himself at her entrance and thrust forward until he was buried to the hilt. The walls of her sex quaked around him, urging him to set a pace to match.

But he didn’t. Noah began a slow, languid lovemaking. As she returned to herself after the climax, Tabitha lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, taking him deeper. He held himself above her with one arm, using the other to give her breasts the attention she’d asked him for earlier.

With each thrust, with each manipulation of her nipple, with each kiss or nibble along her jaw line, Tabitha let out a little pleasure-sound.

When he didn’t think he could last much longer, Noah picked up the tempo and slid his hand between their bodies. He parted her folds and found the secret to her release, rubbing over it with increasing friction until she was panting and holding onto his shoulders with a grip so tight she might leave marks.

Both their bodies tensed for the coming release. Noah tightened and swelled inside her. With a keening moan, Tabitha trembled around him as she came. He pulled back, gave a final thrust, and spent himself inside her with a shout.

After a few moments, when he could breathe again and she mumbled something beneath him, Noah rolled over, pulling Tabitha with him. He held her there, stroking the hair back from her face for long minutes.

“Noah?” With heavy eyes, she looked up at him. Whatever she might ask him for at that moment, he would do anything to be able to give. But she didn’t ask him for anything. Instead, she whispered up to him shyly, “I feel beautiful.”

It sounded like a prayer on her lips.

“I’ll do everything I can to be sure you feel beautiful for the rest of your life.”

Tabitha stretched her head forward and pecked him on the nose. “I love you. And I really do promise I’ll never try to shoot you again.”

Noah let out a bark of laughter. “I love you too.”

Minutes later, the rise and fall of her chest slowed to the deep breaths of sleep. Tabitha was exhausted. As well she should be. It had been quite a day for them both. He watched her for a while, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing, studying the peaceful expression on her face. So serene. So perfect.

In her sleep, her hand fell from his chest to land near his manhood. Instantly, he was hard again. Noah hated to wake her up...but then again, he had an entire lifetime to watch her sleep.

Spring, 1816

London

“If you don’t keep breathing, I’ll smother you with a pillow, myself.” Jo pushed Tabitha’s shoulders back down on the bed and then took her hand, patting it comfortingly. “And don’t think Bethie wouldn’t say the same thing if she were here. She would. Your mother would have, too.”

Tabitha didn’t have the energy to fight with her cousin at the moment. It was taking everything in her not to rip her hair out. That might be why they had taken to holding her hands so tightly, come to think of it—to prevent her from doing them bodily harm.

“Jo’s right, Tabitha,” Aunt Matilda said. She squeezed Tabitha’s other hand and wiped a cool, damp cloth over her brow. “Breathing is absolutely necessary. For you, and for the baby. Trust me. I went through this five times. I know.”

Tabitha shook her head. Unbelievable. “You can’t have gone through this. You can’t have survived such a thing.” No one could have survived the pain threatening to rip her cleanly in two. The aching in her back was enough to send her to Bedlam, alone.

Aunt Vanessa smiled from the foot of the bed, where she sat next to the midwife. “I know it feels like the end of the world, but I can assure you it is not. Four times for me, and I came out just fine after every one. Your mother only had to go through childbirth twice, since you and Toby came at the same time. Lucky her.”

Aunt Matilda, Aunt Vanessa, Lavinia, and Elaine all shared knowing looks.

“I don’t care. I don’t care what you say or what you went through.” Tabitha sucked in a huge gasp of air as another sharp pang assaulted her middle. Every muscle in her body seemed to clench in agony. She squeezed the hands she held as tightly as she could, trying to ease the discomfort, to no avail.

“Breathe,” Jo commanded. “Take a deep breath in, and then slowly let it out.”

Somehow, Tabitha managed to do as she was ordered. A cool cloth came over her head again, over her chest, down her arms. Finally, after what could have been a minute or maybe a lifetime, the worst of it passed. For now. She slumped back against the mound of pillows behind her, utterly exhausted, trying to rest until the next wave assaulted her.

“Are you sure that Jo ought to be allowed in here?” Lavinia asked. Her voice grated on Tabitha’s last nerve for some reason. “She’s not been through this herself yet. For that matter, she’s not even married.”

“I’m not leaving Tabby. Not for anything.”

Lavinia scoffed. “This is not something an innocent should see. Mother, you really ought to send her away.”

Now that was beyond toleration. Tabitha sat up as far as she was capable. “If Jo is leaving, I’m leaving.”

“You, my dear, are not going anywhere until this child is born.” Aunt Matilda took her turn to shove Tabitha’s shoulders back into the pillows.

“Then I suppose Jo is staying, too. If Lavinia thinks someone ought to leave, she is more than welcome to go.”

Lavinia huffed from her position in the corner, well away from being useful in any context. “Well, I never.”

Elaine came closer to the bed, carrying more clean strips of fabric. She set them down on the bedside table beside Aunt Matilda, and then dipped one into the basin of water before using it to wipe down Tabitha’s legs. Her gentle touch was more soothing than anything else up to that point. “I wished someone would help me cool my legs when I was having Lily,” she murmured. “Can I get you anything?” she asked when she had finished.

But then another pang struck. This one was worse than before, worse than all the rest combined. Tabitha let out a scream, only no sound came from her mouth.

When it finished and she regained her ability to reason, she turned to her sister-in-law. “Yes. Yes, you can bring me something. Two things.”

“Of course.” Elaine jumped to her feet, prepared to do anything Tabitha asked.

“I need you to bring Noah in here. And a pistol. A loaded pistol. I’m sure Toby will help you out with that one, if Owen won’t.”

Noah had gotten her into this predicament, after all. He could damned well participate in every aspect of it.

Elaine’s jaw dropped. “A pistol?”

“Yes. A pistol. Go. Quickly.” Another pain shot through her center.

“They’re coming much closer together now,” the midwife said. “It won’t be much longer.”

Jo motioned to Elaine to hurry along. “Get your brother.”

“Don’t forget my pistol!” Tabitha shouted through the waves of torture washing over her by the moment.

A moment later, Noah replaced Aunt Matilda by her side, taking her hand into his own and brushing her hair back from her head. “You asked for me?” He brushed a kiss over her forehead. “And a pistol, I understand.”

“I’ll kill you. If I survive this, if you ever do this to me again, I swear I’ll kill you.”

“Ah, yes. The twisted Shelton love. I love you, too, Tabitha.”

“It’s time to push. Help her sit up.” A voice from the foot of the bed.

Strong arms lifted her and settled around her as a firm chest pressed against her back. “Push, sweetheart.”

“And keep breathing.”

Tabitha pushed. She felt ripped straight through the middle, and still she pushed and screamed and pushed some more, until there was nothing left to push.

Moments later, the cries of her child filled her consciousness.

“It’s a girl.”

“What shall we name her?” Noah asked as their baby was placed gingerly in Tabitha’s waiting arms. “She’s beautiful. The most beautiful little girl I’ve ever seen.”

She looked at her baby, at her red little face and head full of light brown hair, just like her father’s, and was instantly in love. “Lucinda. For my mother.” Tabitha glanced over at Jo’s tear-stained face and winked. “I suppose we’ll have to call her Lucy, I think.”

Elaine came rushing back into the room. “I see I’m too late. Congratulations. Are you still in need of a pistol? Toby said he could arrange to borrow one from Lord Leith.”

Noah looked at his sister like she was daft. “My wife is most assuredly not in need of a pistol. She vowed she would never hold one on me again. Every last one of you heard her say it, too.”

Tabitha laughed. “That’s true. I did make a promise. I suppose I’ll have to keep it.” She looked down at her daughter, resting peacefully in her arms. “But I haven’t yet provided you with an heir.” Tabitha caught Elaine’s eye and grinned. “We’ll have to wait and see how I feel about things next time.”

Next time. And the time after that. And the time after that.

To my dear readers,

I hope you have enjoyed reading WALLFLOWER as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you have, would you be so kind as to leave a positive review at the site where you purchased the e-book? Thank you so much!

All my best,

Catherine Gayle

About the Author

Catherine Gayle has been an avid reader of romance novels (and almost anything else she can legally get her hands on) for as long as she can remember. Her mother might say it started in the womb. When she is not writing or reading, she can often be found buried beneath her sleeping cat or chasing the Nephew Monster.

Catherine would love to hear from her readers. You can send her an email at catherinegayle.author@gmail.com.

Available Now:

A Summons From the Castle

Regency Christmas Summons Collection 3

© 2011 Catherine Gayle, Suzie Grant, Christi Caldwell

In CATHERINE GAYLE’s An Unintended Journey, Abby Goddard’s life is going along just swimmingly, apart from the disappearance of her life’s love—Wesley Cavendish, a man well above her station. Just before Christmas, Grandmama dies after revealing the identity of Abby’s grandfather. The Duke of Danby, no less. Now the entire family will travel to Yorkshire to confront Danby, hoping to gain a dowry for Abby. But then Wesley reemerges, sparking a hope Abby thought long destroyed. * Shall the prodigal son’s sole inheritance be an unsightly gash? Wesley Cavendish aspires to the political realm, despite his father’s near-murderous opposition…not to mention his opposition to Abby Goddard. But since Father died, will the new Earl of Fordingham rescind Father’s disgraceful allegations? Fordingham thwarts Wesley at every turn, threatening marriage to a prominent Tory family—which precludes Abby—to put an end to Wesley’s Whig involvement…unless Wesley can find a loophole.

In SUZIE GRANT’s Caribbean Jewel, blackmailed by a British Naval Commander, Captain Randall Whitton, a smuggler with a penchant for gold is rescued by Jewel Derington, a feisty plantation owner and the very woman who betrayed him in the jungles of Barbados. Escaping danger has never been so thrilling. Together they are drawn into a political game of winner takes all from which only his grandfather, the Duke of Danby, can rescue them.

* Fascinated by the glitter of his Caribbean Jewel, Randall's lust for gold soon fades. His quest to tame this fiery treasure catapults them both into an adventure where the stakes are higher and the prize greater than either of them have ever dared dream.

In CHRISTI CALDWELL’s A Scandal for Christmas, for Lady Alexandra being the source of a cold, calculated wager is bad enough....but when it is waged by Nathaniel Michael Winters, 5th Earl of Pembroke, the man she's in love with, it results in a broken heart, the scandal of the season, and a summons from her grandfather--the Duke of Danby. To escape Society's gossip, she hurries to her meeting with the duke , determined to put memories of the earl far behind.  Except the duke has other plans for Alexandra....plans which include the 5th Earl of Pembroke!

The Betting Season

An anthology of Regency novellas

In BY ANY OTHER NAME by Ava Stone: Lord Cleasby bets Mr. Potsdon five hundred pounds that Lord St. Austell will bed Lady Philippa Casemore before the end of the season. ~April 19, 1813

Lady Philippa Casemore caused quite a scene at her very first ball of her very first season. She even landed herself, somehow, on the pages of the infamous betting book at White’s gentlemen’s club. Unfortunately, she doesn’t remember one moment of the night in question. Not the music. Not the notorious rake she’d dragged into the middle of the dance floor. Not the flask of opium-laced brandy she’d downed without realizing its contents…

Jason York, the wicked Earl of St. Austell, can’t quite forget the lady who stole his breath away the previous night. Of course, his broken nose, courtesy of the girl’s brother, did have a way of making an impression. When he stumbles into Lady Philippa the next day, his ego is more than bruised when she doesn’t seem to recall him at all, and a scheme to make certain she never forgets him again quickly forms in his mind.

In FLIGHT OF FANCY by Catherine Gayle: Lord Falkland bets Lord Jefferson Blount two hundred fifty pounds that Lord Haworth will ensure the ruination of Lady Georgianna Bexley-Smythe by 15 May unless the Marquess of Stalbridge returns to Town and settles his debts before that date. ~19 April, 1813

Cedric Loring, the Earl of Montague, has been an honorary member of the Bexley-Smythe family for years. He’s always had a special, if sometimes strained, bond with Georgie. But when her name ends up in the betting book at White’s before she’s even made her debut, he knows no one can protect her quite like he can. If only she’d stop chasing after the very gentleman who could single-handedly see to her ruin.

Lady Georgianna Bexley-Smythe has the uncanny ability to remember nearly everything she’s ever read, and thus knows everything about almost everything. But as knowledge and experience are not interchangeable, she intends to make her first Season one of adventure. What could be more adventurous than seeing London from Lord Haworth’s gas balloon? Now she must avoid Monty long enough to make Haworth’s acquaintance and beg an airborne adventure.

In LANDING A LAIRD by Jane Charles: Mr. Fiske bets Lord Alston three hundred pounds that Lord Lydell will allow encourage be compromised by Lady Moira Kirkwood and hauled be off to Scotland before the end of the season. ~ April 19, 1813

Heiress Lady Moira Kirkwood will do anything it takes to marry a laird to take her north - far, far away from London and her domineering mother. Unfortunately, a pair of gentlemen overhear her jest about Scotland and compromising a fellow if she has to. Before the sun has risen the next day, Moira’s name and a scandalous wager have found themselves inside the infamous betting book at White’s.

One penniless gentleman after another begs Gideon Baxter, Viscount Ainsely, for his assistance in wooing Lady Moira. Unfortunately, Gideon would like to woo the charming lady himself. If only she cared more for him than for the location of his estate, he’d could be assured of where her true feelings lie.

In THE MARRIAGE TRAP by Jerrica Knight-Catania: Rowan Findley bets Lord Swaffham 200 guineas that he cannot bed Miss Patience Findley without finding himself leg-shackled to her within the month…

When Miss Patience Findley discovers, at her first ball of her first Season, just how much her father’s scandal has affected her chances of marriage, she resigns herself to being alone and dying a spinster. That is, until she hears that her friends’ names have landed in the betting book at White’s. In a moment of desperation, she asks her reprobate cousin to place a bet on her behalf, in the hopes of trapping an unsuspecting gentleman into marriage.

Tristan Wallford, Lord Swaffham, loves a good challenge. So when his friend, Rowan Findley, claims that his cousin Patience cannot be cured of her melancholy state, Tristan lays a bet that he will be the one to cure her. He could certainly use the money, after all. But as the game begins, Tristan begins to realize that not only does Miss Findley not need curing, but she might be worth trapping for himself.

Pariah

An Old Maids’ Club novel

After selling his major’s commission in the Dragoons, Lord Roman Sullivan wants nothing more than a calm, sedate life in the country where he’s agreed to act as steward over his father’s estate. Society is no place for a man who can’t sleep without fear of attacking an innocent in the night, after all. But upon his arrival, madness lands in his path in the form of a secret-keeping pixie of a lady, a precocious boy, a lady in the throes of dementia, and a band of rabidly loyal servants, who combine to capture both his attention and what’s left of his heart in one fell swoop.

Bethanne Shelton keeps a great many secrets, most of which are not hers to reveal. Keeping them close to her chest is the one sure way to make certain her life remains as normal as possible. Even her family can’t discover the truth, lest Finn be taken away from her. In order to protect him, she ignores the whispers of pariah and worse. But her Aunt Rosaline’s health is rapidly declining, and Roman is the only one able to calm her. He’s getting too close, and if he unveils Bethanne’s mysteries, she’ll lose her family. One thing is certain: no matter what happens, she is bound to lose her heart.

Pariah is available now.

Shelved

An Old Maids’ Club novel

Miss Josephine Faulkner refuses to come in second to anyone—not even to a husband. Oh, sure, Duncan Ramsey, the Earl of Leith, has been owner of her heart since she was a girl, chasing after him and her older brother when they tried to leave her behind. And while it is true she once gave herself to Duncan completely, when she was only offered marriage in return (and therefore, second class status within the relationship), she told him in no uncertain terms where he could put his blasted chivalry. Now he needs an heir to prevent his ne’er-do-well cousin from one day inheriting his father’s marquessate, but having sulked over the mistakes he’s made with Jo for over a decade, he can’t imagine anyone else being suited for the job. Somehow he must convince her that a life at his side will be more worthwhile than a life of stubborn independence.

Look for Shelved in late 2012.

Other titles available from

Catherine Gayle

LORD ROTHEBY’S INFLUENCE SERIES

Twice a Rake

Saving Grace

Merely a Miss

The Old maids’ club trilogy

Pariah

WANTON WIVES

Available as a collection, or as individual titles

Of Love and Lust

One Lonely Night

A Perfect Pearl

Leg-Shackled

Uninhibited