Page 117 of The Art of Sinning

“Is my brother being wicked again?” Amanda asked as she approached them. “Haven’t you cured him of that yet?”

“Certainly not.” Yvette grinned. “Why would I?”

“Well, he’s not the only wicked man around here,” Amanda grumbled. “Some stranger just came up to me in the hall and kissed me right on the lips.”

When Jeremy laughed, Yvette said, “Oh, dear, I probably should have explained mistletoe to your sister, too.”

“How did you respond?” Jeremy asked Amanda.

“I kissed him back, of course. It’s not every day a handsome gentleman kisses me.”

“That’s because it’s not every day that you dress so well.” When his wife elbowed him, Jeremy said, “What? It’s true. Amanda looks unusually well-attired tonight.”

Yvette had been advising his sister on her clothing choices. Sometimes his sister even listened.

“Be that as it may,” Amanda said, “after I found out who he was, I wished I’d slapped him for his impertinence.”

“Why? Who is he?” Jeremy asked. “Point him out and I’ll go defend your honor.” Then he ruined that statement by laughing.

“You’re such a child.” Amanda pointed to a man engaged in a heated conversation with Knightford. “That’s him. I don’t even know his name.”

“Uh-oh,” Yvette said. “That’s Lord Stephen.”

“Knightford’s youngest brother?” Jeremy said incredulously. “Is he one of our guests?”

“He is now. Clarissa spotted him in the village today and asked me if she could invite him. I was happy to do so. Edwin and I know him well.”

“Yes, but Knightford doesn’t seem pleased about it. The reason I haven’t met the man is the marquess wouldn’t even let him join St. George’s,” Jeremy said.

“Probably because he’d bore all of you with his heated opinions. I would brain him in under a minute, myself.” Amanda scrutinized the man with a more than cursory interest and colored oddly before snapping her gaze back to them. “Well, I think I’ll go look at the portrait. People have been crowding around it so much I haven’t yet had the chance.” And off she went.

For the next few moments, as Yvette’s attention was commanded by another guest, Jeremy watched Amanda and Lord Stephen. When his sister wasn’t sneaking looks at Lord Stephen, the man was staring brazenly at her.

Jeremy recognized that look. It was how he’d stared at Yvette the first night they’d met.

And given what Knightford had said about his bro­ther, it worried him. Lord Stephen had no money, he’d burned every bridge to every connection, and he had no useful profession other than causing trouble. He’d probably kissed Amanda be­­cause he’d heard she was an heiress.

Thunderation.

The guest Yvette was speaking to walked off, and she caught the direction of Jeremy’s gaze. “What do you think?” Yvette whispered. “Aren’t they perfect for each other?”

“No. He’s probably hunting a fortune.”

“Oh, I doubt that. And even if he were, she would see right through it.”

He frowned. “I’m not so sure. My sister isn’t good with managing men the way you are, sweetheart.”

She burst into laughter.

“What?”

Tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow, she leaned up to kiss his cheek. “You are absolutely the only person who sees me that way. And I love you for it.”

When she then cast him a sparkling smile, he forgot all about his sister. He forgot all about the guests and the portrait and the fact that it had been accepted for exhibit at the Royal Academy.

All he could see was his wife. Yvette had been so frantic with making sure their new house was ready for guests, and then settling them in yesterday, that it had been three long nights since he’d made love to her.

“Tell me, sweetheart, as my guide to all things English: just how improper is it for a hostess to leave her guests and disappear for, say, an hour or two before dinner?”

“Very improper.” Her gaze turned sultry. “Why? What did you have in mind?”

“I thought we might take a walk in our new gardens. Find a wooded area. Or maybe even an ornamental bridge.”

“It’s rather cold outside,” she pointed out.

“Ah, right.” He bent to whisper, “Then I suppose we’ll have to settle for our own bed.”

And as she laughed, he drew her from the room. There were definitely some compensations to being a man who no longer blew with the wind.