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“You can leave off with your condescending manner,” Wolfe told him. “Have you forgotten I was one of your witnesses at your arranged marriage you were none too certain about at the time?”

“Aye, well.” Strath tugged him onward toward the carriage.

“I had forgotten, actually, because Sarah and I were fortunate enough to be well matched and fall in love.” He rolled his shoulders and made a face as if trying to swallow something horrible.

“Yet I fear ye will not be so blessed if and when ye marry Lady Margaret. Her and that mother of hers…” He shuddered.

“And ye ken the daughter is much like the mother when she nay realizes anyone is watching? Why do ye not break it off? I understand it would nay be easy or pleasant—but dammit, man, ye are miserable. Break it off.”

“Her mother would unleash a breach of promise suit the likes of which the ton has never seen. You know that.” It was Wolfe’s turn to shudder.

“And I can tell Lady Margaret will one day become her mother. Maybe even worse. Why do you think I’ve avoided the altar as long as I have?

It is my hope she will break the engagement.

” A subtle wave of guilt washed across him.

“I am sure Lady Margaret will make a fine wife for someone—just not me.”

“Ye canna carry on as ye have, man. ’Tis not fair nor good for either of ye. What are ye now? Seven and thirty and without an heir?”

“Six and thirty, you bloody devil, and you well know it.”

“And ye canna dally with Broadmere’s sister. Ye know that—aye?”

“I know.” Wolfe stopped walking toward the carriage and turned into the cool night breeze, lifting his face to it in the hopes of clearing his head.

Lady Grace both infuriated and entranced him.

The woman must be descended from a long line of seductresses, because he found himself unable to shake her from his thoughts.

She was a thorny rose that had pricked him and gotten into his blood.

Strath stood there in the darkness watching him. “Gads, man. Has she already bewitched ye?”

Wolfe huffed a humorless laugh. “Not only me. Connor intends to marry her.”

“Aye, ye mentioned that the other day.”

Thoughts of that first meeting with the enchanting Lady Grace made Wolfe smile as he stared off into the darkness, seeing her once again garbed in those scandalous clothes, her lovely face flushed with righteous fire.

“Connor proclaimed her beyond compare after she saved his pup and gave him and Susannah a ride home on her very fine thoroughbred.”

“Beyond compare, eh? From where I’m standing, it looks as if ye feel the same.”

“Quite possibly.” Wolfe expelled the deep breath that he felt he’d held since first setting eyes on Lady Grace. “I’ve never met a woman like her, Strath. She’s always in my thoughts. Always on my mind.”

Strath nudged him onward toward the carriage. “Appears to me it’s time ye did something —even if ye fear that something is wrong. Ye have a woman ye dinna want, and canna have the woman ye wished ye had. ’Tis not fair to either of them, unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless Lady Grace would rather spit on yer grave as to look at ye when it comes to accepting your attention.” Strath shook his head.

“If ye want her, ’tis time ye cleaned yer house, made things right, then went after her.

She’ll not remain unattached forever, ye ken?

That is something ye need to think about as well. ”

“Where the bloody hell do you get all this wisdom about affairs of the heart?”

Strath winked before stepping up into the carriage. “My lovely wife. Where else?”

“Then ask your lovely wise wife how I might disentangle myself from my current predicament with Lady Margaret.”

Strath dipped a curt nod. “Consider it done. My wee Sarah has always loved a challenge.”

*

Grace shouldered open the door the servants had used long ago, before Papa had the second floor redesigned for the expanding family.

It was partially hidden behind a wardrobe in the sisters’ shared dressing room, but the large piece of furniture was angled so the door could still be used due to Papa’s concerns about house fires trapping those he held dear.

“Merciful heavens!” Nellie jumped and launched her armload of freshly folded clothes into the air.

“Oh, Nellie. Forgive me.” Grace scrambled to help the poor maid gather the stockings and shifts tossed about the room. “I forgot you might be in here sorting things for bedtime.”

“Oh, my lady, did the evening not go well?” With a sympathetic tilt of her head, Nellie quietly clicked her tongue like she always did when disappointed for Grace.

“ Not go well does not begin to cover it.” But Grace knew better than to share all that had happened with the Duke of Wolfebourne.

She had long suspected the servants were Serendipity’s ears.

While Nellie was as devoted as she was efficient, the maid would not hesitate to share anything and everything at the downstairs kitchen table.

“Are you aware that Chance invited the Earl of Middlebie for an extended visit?”

Nellie unhooked a shift from where it had snagged on the corner of the mirror, shook it out, and refolded it. “I was not, my lady, else I would have told you. Is anyone else staying? I’ve not been downstairs yet this evening.”

“No one, as far as I know.” Grace spotted a tear in the hem of her gown.

She must have caught her skirt on the trellis when it snapped.

“Drat! Can you repair this? Seri will have nine kinds of fits if she discovers I have ruined yet another silk, and this shade of pink is so difficult to find. Madame Couire said so when we chose it.”

The maid knelt and examined the damage closer, then winced. “The dressmaker in the village might be able to add a bit of lace as trim to hide it. If I try to mend that rip, I fear the material will pucker.” She gave Grace a look of gentle accusation. “The trellis again?”

That reminded Grace of the mess she’d made of that. “Of course the trellis again, and would you mind getting word to Fred or Jasper that I would be ever so grateful if they could see to it before anyone is the wiser?”

Nellie winced again. “Before anyone is the wiser about what, my lady?”

“About the fact that it appears to have torn away from the wall and snapped in two. I prefer that Mr. Warren not discover it, because he will insist on mentioning it to Chance.” Mr. Warren was the estate overseer doing his best to foster the same genuine interest for the country estate in Chance that Papa had always possessed, but Grace feared that was a lost cause.

Chance loved London and the excitement it offered.

At Nellie’s open-mouthed shock, she held up a hand.

“I was not injured. It slowly sagged away from the wall and enabled me to land safely.” Which was not a lie.

She had landed safely in Wolfebourne’s arms—of course, the safe part was debatable at this point, especially since her heart still beat so fast that she was somewhat breathless.

She extended her arms. “See? Not a scratch.”

Nellie stared at her in earnest. “Forgive me for being so bold, my lady, but your dearly departed mama—God rest her soul—would be most displeased.”

“I am in no mood for lectures, thank you. I get quite enough from Seri.” Grace didn’t appreciate being scolded by her older-than-usual lady’s maid who had been chosen for her because she was deemed too much of a handful for a maid closer to her own age.

She especially didn’t like being scolded when she knew the maid was correct.

She turned and gave Nellie her back. “Please undo my hooks and buttons, then I can handle the rest. You may retire and enjoy what little there is left of the evening.”

“Yes, my lady.” Nellie’s regret about speaking her mind was unmistakable in her tone.

“I am not angry.” Grace bowed her head and rubbed her temples. “I am simply tired and wish to be alone before the herd comes upstairs.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Lovely. Grace blew out a frustrated sigh.

For the next few days, Nellie would my lady her to death, and there would be no further updates on tidbits of gossip from the servants’ table.

She supposed that served her right for getting churlish with poor old Nellie, but this evening had rattled her to her core.

She clenched her teeth and waited for the maid to finish and leave the dressing room before she sagged down onto the stool in front of the dressing table.

“How could you let him get the upper hand?” she asked her reflection in the mirror.

“Allow him to kiss you not once, but twice?” She dropped her head into her folded arms, trying to escape this mess of her own making.

But the kisses had been so very nice. She swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the knot of emotions making her throat ache.

The Duke of Wolfebourne, Wolfe , was not for her.

He belonged to another. Society placed him and Lady Margaret within a hairsbreadth of the classification of husband and wife.

A gentle nudge against her leg paired with a snuffling woof made her lift her head. “Oh, Gastric. What am I to do?”

The sweet hound whined and thumped his tail while snuggling closer.

Slipping off the stool and onto the floor, she hugged him into her lap and rested her cheek against his velvety head. “I let him kiss me, Gastric. I am such a fool.”

“You did what?” Joy stood in the doorway of the short hallway that interconnected the bedrooms. “Who kissed you?”

“Lower your voice,” Grace snapped, defensive desperation nearly choking her. “Who else has already come up from the circus below?”

“I am the only one for now, but it won’t be long.” Joy hurried over and plopped onto the floor with her. “Who kissed you?”

“Are you truly that thick?”