Next to his desk was a silver tazza, a platter on a pedestal that held a collection of whiskey tots that looked to be quite old. On the desk was an ivory pen and inkwell, and a crystal paperweight with a small gold coin embedded in it. There was a tobacco box and another wooden box that held a stack of high-quality vellum. And there, on the edge of his desk, was a heavy silver tray that held the post.

There were a few unopened letters in the tray, which, she a.s.sumed, Dawson had placed there today.

Ava sat down in the tall-backed leather chair and put the candelabrum aside. She spread her hands on the desk, imagined him sitting here, engaged in any number of important business dealings. Her eye fell to the post again, and she picked up the small stack of letters and flipped through them.

They were all of a business nature, judging by their wax seals. But the last one was different. It was a woman's handwriting, the script of it heartbreakingly familiar.

The Honorable Lord Middleton, Esq., it read on the front. Ava slowly turned it over and looked at the seal. There, embedded in the red wax, were three letters. A large W in the center, with a smaller M and P on either side of it.

Lady Waterstone.

Ava dropped the letter in the tray as if it were poisonous, and carelessly tossed the other letters on top of it. First Lady Kettle. Now this.

On second thought, she dug through the post, fished the letter out, and stuffed it in her pocket. It was a horrid breach of privacy-but then again, Lady Waterstone had breached her privacy.

Ava stood up, arranged Middleton's desk just so, and then picked up the candelabrum and walked out, her heart pounding in her chest. She was not a thief. At least not until tonight, not until she realized that whatever she might have thought marriage would be, whatever she might have made of it, she could never accept another woman in her husband's bed. At his breakfast table, perhaps. But in his bed? Never.

Now she had to convince him of it.

The next morning, Sally woke Ava by throwing open the drapes and slapping the bottom of her exposed foot, which had escaped the bedcovers.

"Up with you," she said sternly when Ava whimpered. "They'll have my head if you sleep too long. b.l.o.o.d.y rigid here, they are," she said, hands on hips as Ava tried to sit up. "Expecting me to clean and whatnot in addition to tending you!"

"Do they?" Ava asked sleepily. "I can speak to Miss Hillier-"

"Don't bother. She'll undoubtedly have me sent away before the day is gone-we had words this morning."

"Sally!" Ava cried, fully awake now. "Miss Hillier was his lordship's nursemaid! You can't go round angering her!"

Sally tossed her head and clucked her tongue as she dropped Ava's dressing gown on her lap. "Don't fret so! I'll be good."

Ava hoped that was a vow. She slipped into her dressing gown and stood up, stretched her arms high in the air, then walked to the basin, threw water on her face, and reached for a brush.

"Ach, but you don't look as if you've slept a wink!" Sally observed. "G.o.d help you if your bed is as hard as mine. Like sleeping on river rocks, it is."

"My bed is fine," Ava muttered. "It's not that."

Sally stopped in the making of the bed and glanced up. "What?"

Ava sighed, pulled open her bureau, removed Lady Waterstone's letter, and held it up between two fingers.

Sally quickly crossed the room to have a look. "What's it say?" she asked Ava.

"It's addressed to Middleton. The seal is that of Lady Waterstone." When Sally was clearly unaware ofwho that was, Ava felt tears welling up. "She is his mistress...yet. And perhaps not the only one!""Ooh," Sally said, nodding sagely. "Come on, then, let's have a look at it," she said, gesturing for Ava to open it."Read it? I can't break a seal on a letter addressed to him!""Would you share him with a wh.o.r.e?" Sally asked flatly.Ava shook her head."Open it," she said again.Ava reluctantly took the letter and broke the seal and began to read."Aloud, if you please," an exasperated Sally insisted.Ava drew a breath. "My darling," she read aloud, and felt her belly clutch. She closed her eyes until Sally lightly punched her arm. She looked at the letter again and turned partially away from Sally. "My darling,"she repeated. "I live in agony, counting the hours until I see you again. Every day extends unbearably longinto the next-you know my disposition too well to not be aware how desperate I am without younearby. The only pleasure I can seem to derive is to dream of what Providence will bring me when youare in London again. I have sacrificed for you, darling, and never will I be happy in this world if I cannotbe with you. Please hurry back to me so that I will suffer no more. Faithfully yours, M."

Ava angrily crumpled the letter. But Sally peeled it from her fingers and looked at the writing on thepage. "Very well done," she said, and looked up, a.s.sessing Ava closely. "She's right cunning, this one-she knows how to speak to a man's ego. You must be just as cunning, mu'um."

"But I don't know how to be cunning!" Ava moaned, falling helplessly onto a chaise. "It's hopeless, isn't

it? I shall lose my husband before I've even known him!""For the love of G.o.d!" Sally cried. "Will you give in so easily! You may as well deliver him to her with apretty bow tied round him. Will you not at least attempt to have him?"

"I don't know how," Ava said morosely.

"Well I do," Sally said, and sat on the chaise next to Ava. She put one hand on her shoulder, forcing Avato look up. "Now, mu'um...have you heard of the harem?""The what?" Ava asked dully."The harem," Sally said, leaning forward. "They've a way of moving that drives a man to madness," she whispered, and began to describe-in very graphic detail-how a woman in a harem conducts herself in

the presence of a man.

Ava gasped, covered her hand with her mouth, and made sounds of shock as Sally talked. How Sally knew such things Ava did not want to know.

But she hung on to every blessed word.

Twenty-one.

J ared returned to Broderick Abbey at dusk the next day, having cut short his trip to Marshbridge for reasons he wasn't entirely certain.

He asked for his wife, but Dawson told him she was engaged and, incidentally, would not be available to dine with him at supper, either, as her lady's maid had arrived, and there was some work that could not wait.

"Work?" Jared asked skeptically. "What sort of work?"

Dawson's face pinched slightly. "I wouldn't rightly know, my lord, but were I to venture a guess...Iwould note that quite a lot of trunks arrived along with the lady's maid."

"Ah," Jared said, and nodded sagely, knowing full well a woman's love of her things. "Well, then...didshe say when I might be allowed the pleasure of her company?" he asked wryly.

"She did not, my lord. I could inquire-"

"No, thank you," Jared said with a small smile. "I shall inquire personally."

He retreated to his study and reviewed the post, but finding nothing remarkable, he adjourned to his rooms to change for supper. In his suite, however, he heard the faint laughter of women filtering in through the hearth. He paused to listen, but heard nothing more. He started to move again, but heard the distinct sound of laughter again.

He sighed. Apparently, he would have to speak with her. He had hoped that Ava had come around tothe reality of their marriage and harbor no fantastic illusions about it, but he hadn't realized that she'd betraipsing off to Broderick on foot, or splashing about the lake, or carrying on with her lady's maid.Another burst of laughter, however, made him curious. He left his suite again and walked the length ofcorridor to the main door of Ava's suite.

There it was again, the laughter of two women. But when he rapped on the door, the laughter abruptly stopped. In fact, there was no sound at all coming from the room. He frowned and rapped harder. He then heard some muted sounds of movement, and had the distinct impression that someone was running in circles about the room.

He was just about to rap again when the door opened a crack. "Oh! Good evening! I beg your pardon, I was resting," Ava said, her eyes full of something that was most definitely not sleep.

"Were you?" he asked skeptically. "I swear I heard laughter."

"From me?" she asked, blinking innocently. "Oh yes-I was reading a book that is quite humorous."

"Oh?" he asked, knowing full well that she was lying. "What is the t.i.tle? Perhaps I've read it."

"I rather doubt you have," she said as her fingers curled tightly around the door.

"Perhaps I have," he politely insisted. "What is the t.i.tle?"

"Hmm. It's interesting," she said, her brows dipping into a slight V, "that a book so cleverly done should have such a difficult t.i.tle to recall." She flashed a fleeting smile at him. "I trust that your journey was safe? "

He nodded.

"Very good. I hope you will forgive my absence at supper, my lord. I've read so much today that I'vesomething of a headache.""You've read as much as that?" he asked, smiling wryly. "Then perhaps you might join me later? There is something I'd like to discuss with you."

"Hmm...well. I had thought to retire early," she said, as if the thought had just occurred to her. "That is-if that's acceptable to you."His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Whatever you desire, Lady Middleton," he said, inclining his head. "

Perhaps, then, on the morrow, we might have that riding lesson. Provided, of course, you've recoveredfrom your headache.""Yes," she said, her eyes lighting up. "That is...depending, on how I'm feeling.""Naturally.""All right. Well, then. Good day, my lord." She smiled and shut the door.He was surprised, he realized, and disappointed there wasn't more.

He stood there a moment longer, listening for the laughter, but heard nothing. With a shrug, he walked back to his suite of rooms. But when he reached them, he heard a shout of laughter coming from Ava's rooms and shook his head.

He dined alone in the small dining room. As he ate, he saw a footman go by with a large tray and two silver-domed plates. "Where's he off to?" he idly inquired of Dawson.

"To her ladyship's suite, my lord. She is taking supper in her rooms with her lady's maid."

So much for her headache. Or retiring early. Apparently, he'd been relegated to dining alone. His father, for as long as he could remember, dined apart from his mother, unless there were guests. That irked him. It irked him that his wife was obviously avoiding him. Whatever their arrangement, she had no call to avoid him.

He finished his meal, then stepped outside to have a smoke. He liked the feel of cold on his face, and walked to the edge of the terrace that overlooked a small river that fed the lake. But when he turned back to the abbey, he noticed a movement at the far end of the wing where the master suites were housed. He paused and looked up at Ava's window. There was the glow of a fire and candlelight, but what caught his attention was a shadow on the wall that seemed to be dancing.

His gaze narrowed. Not only was she avoiding him, she was apparently having a grand time without him.

The feeling of disappointment surprised and confounded him. This was precisely what he wanted. That it should disappoint him in the least seemed ridiculous and hypocritical.

He shrugged it off and returned indoors, had a bit of brandy, and read awhile, and at a quarter to midnight, he decided to turn in.

He walked up the grand, curving staircase and headed down the long corridor to his suite, untying his neckcloth and opening his waistcoat. When he pa.s.sed Ava's suite, he paused only briefly, heard nothing, and walked on.

In his rooms, he had barely divested himself of his coat and waistcoat, had pulled his neckcloth from his collar and his shirt from his trousers, when there was a knock at the door. He sighed wearily-Dawson was nothing if not a very attentive butler, sometimes to the point of vexation. The man was probably apoplectic that Jared had retired before he could offer his services.

In his bare feet, Jared walked to the door, pulled it open-and was completely startled.

It wasn't Dawson at all, but Ava at his door, wearing a dressing gown loosely tied and holding a long strip of red silk. But what he noticed more than the provocative dressing gown and long strip of red silk was her eyes. Her green eyes were glittering, and it was a very stirring sight. "Lady Middleton, you deign to favor me with your company after all."

She chuckled low and abruptly reached up and shoved him in the chest, forcing him backward. She stepped over the threshold after him and quickly shut the door behind her, leaned up against it, and spread her arms wide, her fingers on the door frame, the scarf dangling from her hand. "I do, but on my terms, sir."

"Oh?" he asked, his eyes roaming her curves, "Have I given you leave to define our terms?"

She smiled, held up her arm, and twisted it slightly, so that he could see the gold bracelets she wore. "

Must I have your permission?"

He didn't quite know how to answer that. He didn't quite know his mind at all at the moment. "Why didn 't you join me for supper?" he asked.

Ava raised a brow. "Did you miss me?"

"That is beside the point," he said brusquely.

"Is it, indeed?" she asked low, and pushed away from the door, her shapely leg sliding out from beneath her dressing gown. A flash of gold on her ankle caught his eye.

"What-"

She boldly covered his mouth with her hand, tilted her head back, and smiled seductively. "Now whichof us is the unhappy one?" she whispered, and pushed him backward.

Jared moved back, his legs b.u.mping against the chair at the hearth. She reached up, put her hands on his shoulders, and pushed him down. He sat, his legs sprawled before him, watching her warily, his curiosity and his blood highly aroused.

Ava said nothing, but still smiling seductively, she began to move. It seemed strange at first, as if she were dancing to music only she could hear, draping the silk across him, following it with the trail of her fingers -but soon his mind and sight were preoccupied with very delectable parts of her body moving very sensually. Hers was not a dance he'd ever seen before. She moved with her hips, draping the silk over her arm, flinging it up, then draping it on him as her hips swung back and forth.

As his focus grew intent on the curves of her body, and she used her hands to skim her body suggestively, he became aroused. She twirled around him, reaching her hands high in the air and shaking her bottom, then twirled again, leaning over him, caressing his cheek with her hand while the silk draped across him, then she was up again, twirling, and frankly, driving him quite mad.

The woman, this innocent whose virginity he had claimed, was making him delirious with thirst for her. He was completely seduced, could not take his eyes from her. Yet when he would reach for her, she swayed away from him.

"Ava," he said, his voice surprising him with its hoa.r.s.eness, and his hands, his skin, surprising him with the need to just touch her.

But she laughed at his desire, twirling around in a blur of red silk and flesh and honey blond hair before suddenly falling to her knees between his legs.

"Jared," she said, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s rising with the pant of her breath. She slowly leaned forward and pressed her lips to his chest, to a patch of skin visible through the slit of his shirt.

She might as well have burned him; his body seized with the sensation of her moist lips. He put his hands to her face, tried to draw her up, but she gripped his arms, pushed them away, and kissed him through the slit of his shirt again, the tip of her tongue flicking against his flesh as she slipped her hands beneath his shirt and moved them, light as a feather, up his torso to his nipples.