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How have I let this happen? Suddenly, she had to know.

Had to know if he too felt this way. After all, there was every chance she was being unfathomably foolish, and Wyatt was counting down the days until he could pack her off to his country estate.

And if that was the case, she needed to know now, before she lost her heart to him entirely.

“Wyatt,” she said. “I?—”

A knock at the door silenced her. “Pardon me, Your Graces.” Fielding poked his head into the parlor. “Lord Anderson for you, sir.”

Wyatt nodded. “Show him in.” He looked back at Gemma and squeezed her fingers. “What were you going to say?”

Gemma shook her head. “Nothing.” Had she been about to confess her feelings?

Perhaps even tell him she loved him? Surely, surely, that would have been a mistake.

Once her emotions had settled after this most tumultuous of days, she knew she would see that with clarity.

Because this, after all, was nothing but a marriage of convenience.

It was about nothing more than securing the Duke of Larsen an heir.

She offered a smile to Lord Anderson as he entered, suddenly very glad he had arrived at the moment he had.

Wyatt found himself staring at the closed door Gemma had just disappeared through.

“Larsen?”

He realized Jonah had been speaking to him. “Huh? What?”

Jonah grinned. “I said, you and Lady Highbrow seem to be getting on well. I could have sworn I even saw her smile.”

Wyatt said nothing. He realized he did not want to speak to Jonah about Gemma.

His friend would make a joke of it or press him for sordid information like they had always done with each other's conquests.

Somehow, Jonah failed to see what Wyatt was becoming more and more aware of with each passing day: that Gemma was different. In every way possible.

But Jonah was right about one thing: Gemma had been smiling. Strange that she might do such a thing given all the lies that had just been spread about her. Wyatt was glad he had been able to console her enough to elicit a smile.

Jonah clapped him over the shoulder. “Come on, Larsen. Don't tell me you're going to close up on me now? Not now you've managed to get Lady Highbrow into bed. You did, didn't you? How on earth did you manage?—”

“Enough,” Wyatt barked. “That's my wife , you're talking about, Anderson.”

Jonah raised his eyebrows and stepped back in surprise.

“All right, old man. Calm yourself.” Wyatt regretted his outburst. But he was not going to apologize.

He knew the comment had been long overdue.

Instead, he went to the liquor cabinet and took out two glasses.

He filled them with brandy and handed one to his friend.

Jonah sank into an armchair, accepting the glass with a nod. “So. I assume a night on the town is out of the question?” A little of the cockiness was gone from his voice.

Wyatt sipped his brandy. “You assumed correctly.” His tone left no room for argument.

Jonah was silent for a few moments. He turned the brandy glass around in his hand, as though considering the contents. “You care about her then.”

“Yes,” Wyatt admitted. “I do.” Of course, he cared about Gemma.

He was dimly aware that he always had, ever since the moment they had woken up in such a compromising position at the Henfords' party.

Beneath his cocky bravado, he had always wanted to keep her safe from scrutiny, to prevent her from being shamed any further than necessary.

But now, he had to admit it was beginning to go further than that. The way he felt about Gemma when he was holding her in his arms, making love to her, he knew it went far beyond mere affection. Somehow, Gemma had found her way into his heart.

Not that he could ever admit such a thing.

He knew Gemma had never wanted a husband, and he had promised her that once she had provided him with an heir, he would give her the freedom she craved.

If he allowed these feelings he had for her to turn into anything at all, giving her up would be nearly impossible.

He shook his head to himself, taking a hurried gulp of brandy.

He could barely believe he was even thinking such things.

Having feelings for his wife was the last thing he had ever expected—or wanted.

Caring for someone that way was how you got hurt.

And he was not going to put himself through such a thing.

This thing between us is about nothing more than securing an heir. That is all it can ever be.

Nonetheless, he wanted to show Gemma—and the rest of the ton —that he was unfazed by these salacious rumors of her affair. Show the world that he trusted her, and that she was far too good a person to have such lies spread about her.

“We're to host a ball,” he blurted, before he knew what he was saying.

Jonah blinked. “A ball?”

“Yes.” Wyatt's thoughts began to catch up with him. “It's time I put an end to all this gossip and lies. Gemma and I will host our first ball as Duke and Duchess, and we will prove that we are a real, respectable couple, not merely a source of entertainment for the ton .”

Jonah raised his eyebrows. “Oh yes? And what about Miss Henford? I don't think she's going to be all that thrilled about coming to celebrate you and Gemma being a 'real, respectable couple.' Do you?”

“No, I am sure she won't.” Wyatt knew it would be easiest not to invite the Henfords at all—but he also knew that would do nothing to slow the gossip.

“But if Gemma and I—and Henrietta—are going to move on with our lives, I need to speak with the Henfords face to face. Make my apologies and put the whole sorry incident behind us.”

Jonah grinned. “You imagine it will be that easy?”

Wyatt tossed back the rest of his brandy. “I hope so.”

“All right, Larsen.” Jonah shrugged. If that's what you think is best.”

“You will come?” asked Wyatt.

Jonah laughed. “Believe me, old man, I wouldn't miss it for the world.”

Wyatt nodded and made his way to the drinks cabinet for a refill. Now all he had to do was get his wife to agree.