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K it was in his chamber tying his cravat, as Piggott kept up a steady stream of conversation.

Normally Kit was interested in the goings-on of the house in which he was visiting, but to-day he impatiently waited to hear what Lady Theo had planned for Mary.

Kit vowed to thwart any attempt by the formidable female to match his Mary to anyone else.

Yet asking his valet to just get it over with and tell him seemed a bit pathetic.

She was everything he wanted in a wife; they had never lacked for conversation, she was intelligent, resourceful, responsible, kind, and so lovely it made his heart and the rest of his body ache with longing.

The depressing fact was, during the last three days of travel he’d fallen irrevocably in love with her, and she hadn’t appeared to notice.

He’d never before spent so much time in one female’s company, never danced attendance on only one lady, and he’d damn sure never had to stop himself from pulling one into his arms. His fingers came close to trembling each time he touched her.

Yet other than a few blushes, which were charming, she hadn’t seemed to have been affected.

He would like to take his friends’ advice and kiss her, but first he must ensure she would welcome his advances.

Kit gave himself a shake, and Piggott cried out, “Sir, you’ve ruined another one.”

Hell and damnation! Kit glanced in the mirror. “Well, it’s not the Trone d’Amour, but it’s not bad. The extra two creases are even interesting. I shall leave it at that. We’ll name it ‘The Featherton.’”

His valet came around and peered at his neckcloth. “You might have something there, sir, and I defy anyone to replicate it.”

Kit doubted if he could tie it the same way again. “My jacket, please. ”

Piggott assisted Kit in donning his jacket. Tucking his watch and quizzing glass in his waistcoat, he should be just in time to escort Mary to the drawing room. If only he knew what Lady Theo had planned. Leaving his chamber, he headed toward the grand staircase.

Fortune was with him. Mary turned the corner from her wing of the house. Lady Theo apparently didn’t believe single ladies and single gentlemen should sleep near each other. Any other time he would have agreed, but now he was not so sure. “Shall I escort you, my lady?”

“Oh. I didn’t see you.” She gave him a tenuous smile. “Yes, thank you. I believe the others will be along shortly.”

Something was bothering her, and he wished with all his heart she’d confide in him. “Did your meeting with Lady Theo go well?”

“Yes.” Mary’s finely arched brows drew together slightly. “She has a great many invitations all ready. To-morrow we ladies will accompany her on morning visits.”

It was time to start ensuring she would not be spending all her time without him.

“When you expressed interest in seeing the city, I borrowed a guidebook. If you like, we may walk to some of the closer sights to-morrow afternoon.” She glanced up at him, confusion lurking in her lovely gray eyes.

“Only if you won’t be too tired after a round of meeting new people. ”

Finally Mary laughed. “I doubt copious cups of tea will tire me, and after three days in a carriage, even a well-sprung one, I’d love to walk.”

“I’ll arrange for a footman to accompany us. I imagine the proprieties are the same as in London.”

“Yes.” She heaved what sounded suspiciously like a sigh. “I’d forgotten.”

She wasn’t the only one. After living for a year as a “married lady,” the constraints of being an unwed female might chafe.

He should apply his mind to the best way to turn that to his advantage.

By this time they’d reached the door of the drawing room.

Lady Theo and Lord Titus stood by a window, talking. They turned when Kit and Mary entered.

He bowed slightly. “Good evening.”

“Mr. Featherton.” Lady Theo glided toward them.

“Just the gentleman I need to speak with.” She drew him away as Lord Titus engaged Mary in conversation.

“One of my dear friends has a daughter who is painfully shy. I mentioned to her you were here, and we thought you might engage her daughter for a dance. I understand you have a way of drawing young ladies out.”

Not what Kit wanted to hear, or do for that matter. “Of course, my lady. I am happy to be of assistance.”

“Come, Mr. Featherton, what do you prefer to drink before dinner?”

“Sherry is my preference.” He stole a glance at Mary, who was in discussion with Lord Titus. She already had a glass of sherry.

“I believe we can find some. I understand Lady Phoebe’s uncle, the Marquis of St. Eth, is a connoisseur.”

“As is the lady herself.” If Lady Theo had another point to make, he wished she’d get on with it and stop this slow perambulation around the room, the sole purpose of which appeared to be to keep him away from Mary.

“Indeed. I do hope she will not be disappointed by my cellar.”

Before he could answer, the rest of the group arrived. Lord Titus served them all glasses of sherry.

“This is fine for before dinner,” Lord Titus said, “but afterward, I have some well-aged Scotch from my family’s stock. In my opinion, it is better than the finest brandy.”

“I’ve had the pleasure of sampling Scotch whisky a few times,” Marcus remarked. “When it’s well brewed and aged, it can indeed rival a fine French brandy.”

Lord Titus, in the act of lifting a glass to his mouth, paused. “And where did you drink it? I thought you hadn’t been to Scotland before, and to the best of my knowledge, no self-respecting Englishman would willingly partake of it.”

Lifting his lips into a smile, Marcus saluted him.

“In general, you are correct, my lord. My father would not have it in his house. I, however, traveled broadly for eight years and had the great good luck to come across more than one of your countrymen. They always seem to have a taste of home around. In parts of America and Canada, it’s actually produced in small quantities. ”

Lord Titus laughed. “You’ve put me in my place, my lord. I should not make suppositions.”

“Nor,” Lady Theo said in a harsh tone directed at her husband, “do we wish to dredge up all the problems between England and Scotland.”

He strolled over to her and kissed her cheek. “My apologies to you, my love, and our guests. In my defense, I’m suffering from political overstimulation.”

Kit began to amble toward Mary, but before he could take his place next to her again, Lady Theo had the women in conversation at the other end of the long room. If he didn’t know better, he’d think his host and hostess were purposely keeping Mary and him apart. That he would not allow.

Mary glanced at him. Yet the moment her gaze met his, she lowered her long, dark lashes and turned her head.

What the devil did that mean? He never should have agreed to come here until they were married.

After all, Huntley and Caro had wed before they loved each other.

Kit could have made it work as well. Damn it all .

From the moment Lord Titus had drawn her aside, Mary had surreptitiously studied Kit from beneath her lashes.

Then their gazes met. It never occurred to her he’d be watching her as well.

She missed him by her side, and no matter what else she attempted to think about, it all came back to him.

Next to her Caro laughed, but Mary had missed the joke.

Surely, he’d escort her to dinner. He was coming her way, after all.

Yet when the meal was announced, her host was bowing before her, not Kit.

Lord Titus held out his arm. “My lady, allow me.” She placed her hand on his arm, and he escorted her to the seat on his left. Phoebe sat on his right, and Kit was at the other end of the table on Lady Theo’s right. Not exactly the correct protocol, but it left Caro and Huntley together.

Well, drat it all.

Unless Scottish manners allowed shouting down the table, Mary was not even going to be able to talk with him until the gentlemen joined the ladies after dinner.

She made herself smile as Lord Titus recommended a dish. “This is baked salmon with tarragon, a particularly Scottish receipt.”

Kit’s deep, smooth voice carried lightly down the table. She would not look. She’d not make a spectacle of herself. “Thank you, my lord. It sounds delightful. I’m sure I shall love it.”

It was the longest meal of her life. A thrumming started behind her ears and spread through her head. By the time Lady Theo rose, indicating it was time to leave the gentlemen to their libations, Mary had a rare headache. Once in the corridor, she caught Caro’s arm. “I need to lie down. ”

Caro searched Mary’s face. “You do look pale. Shall I come with you?”

“No, thank you. Mathers will know what to do. Please make my excuses to Lady Theo.”

“Naturally, I will. Get a good night’s sleep. I’m sure all will be well come morning.”

Mary gave Caro a quick hug. “Of course. Thank you.”

Several moments later, Mary entered her empty chamber.

Not expecting her mistress to retire so early, Mathers was probably with the rest of the servants.

Perhaps some time alone would help Mary think.

She toed off her silk slippers, moved to the dressing table, took the pins and ribbon out of her hair, then dragged a comb through her curls.

This visit was not going at all as she’d thought it would.

She wished she was back at Rose Hill, or that she’d never gone to Northumberland in the first place.

The only good thing that had happened was that she wasn’t dodging her cousin.