"Oh, yes, of course." Miss Willory scrambled to keep a book from dropping. "I don't know why why I can't seem to remember." I can't seem to remember."

"Because you are a selfish, spoiled, and monumentally spiteful individual, Mary Jane Willory, that that is why." She ignored Miss Willory's gasp to continue on in a frigid tone. "And since you appear incapable of observing even the most basic forms of etiquette when in the company of myself and those in my husband's employ, you will no longer be welcome at Haldon Hall for any reason. Do I make myself clear?" is why." She ignored Miss Willory's gasp to continue on in a frigid tone. "And since you appear incapable of observing even the most basic forms of etiquette when in the company of myself and those in my husband's employ, you will no longer be welcome at Haldon Hall for any reason. Do I make myself clear?"

Miss Willory's eyes grew round. Banishment from Haldon meant exclusion from some of the most fashionable parties of the year. It wasn't a completely fatal wound to Miss Willory's social ambitions, but it was a grievous one.

"You can't do that. You...you're...you're..."

"Lady Kate, Miss Willory still seems to be having difficulty remembering who I am. Would you be so kind as to remind her?"

"Oh, it would be my pleasure." Kate gripped her hands behind her back and took a deep breath. "Mirabelle Cole, the Countess of Thurston and mistress of Haldon Hall, the Thurston town house, Holly Terrace, Hartright Castle, Fryerton-"

"You've a castle?" Mirabelle interrupted with a stunned look in Kate's direction. "Really?"

"You have a castle," Kate corrected. have a castle," Kate corrected.

"Oh. Right." She turned back to smile pleasantly at Miss Willory. "I have a castle."

Miss Willory blinked once. "I-"

"Fryerton Abbey," Kate cut in. "Dreibruken House-that's in Germany, I've never been-Poplar Cottage, Wain-"

"Enough," Miss Willory finally spat. Her fingers stood out white against the bindings of her books. "You're hateful. Both of you. This girl is nothing more than a servant. I had every right-"

"The London town house is now closed to you as well," Mirabelle informed her calmly. "Care to try for the castle?"

Kate bit the inside of her cheek. The castle was a moldering pile of ruins in Scotland.

"You'll regret this," Miss Willory hissed, and then wisely spun away to storm down the hall before she lost access to another Thurston holding.

Mirabelle watched her go. "Oh, I've wanted to do something like that for years. years." She sighed happily. "I do so like being Lady Thurston."

Lizzy worried her lip with her teeth, obviously caught between delight and worry. "I'm not certain you should have done that, my lady."

"Why ever not? She deserved it."

"She'll make a fuss."

"Yes, she will." Mirabelle grinned at Kate. "She'll make a fuss to your mother about being banned from Haldon and the town house."

Kate grinned back. "And then she'll appeal to Whit when mother refuses to gainsay you. Oh, I do wish I could hear those conversations."

Mirabelle turned to Lizzy. "Would you be so kind as to see if tea is ready, Lizzy dear? Kate and I will be along shortly."

"Eventually," Kate corrected. A successful bout of eavesdropping took time.

"As you wish, Lady Thurston." Laughing, Lizzy bobbed an exaggerated curtsy and headed for the back staircase.

Kate took Mirabelle's arm and led her toward the front stairs. Her mother was taking tea in the parlor. Miss Willory would not be so foolish as to air her grievances there, but she would take the opportunity to ask for a private audience, and that could take place anywhere.

"Kate?"

"Hmm?"

"Am I really really mistress of all those places?" mistress of all those places?"

"Of course." She frowned a little, remembering her list. "Well, not the abbey. That I made up."

"I see." Mirabelle swallowed hard. "Good heavens."

Kate's laughter died rather swiftly at the sight of Mr. Laury coming toward them down the hall. Mirabelle's countenance, on the other hand, brightened considerably.

"Mr. Laury, how very nice to see you."

Mr. Laury, whose gaze had been trained on the floor, snapped his head up. By the way his eyes widened and his face paled, Kate half expected him to turn about and flee. But to his credit, his step faltered only a little before he continued his walk toward them. "Good afternoon, Lady Thurston, er, Lady Kate."

Kate returned the greeting and would have ended the encounter at that, but Mirabelle reached out to subtly take her arm and bring her to a stop.

"We're to have tea in a half hour's time or so, Mr. Laury. Won't you join us?"

Mr. Laury started, blushed and stammered. "Kind of you. Most kind, but-"

"Not at all," Mirabelle a.s.sured him. "Your company would be welcome. Don't you agree, Kate?"

She had no other choice but to smile and agree. "Yes. Certainly."

"I-I..." Mr. Laury shifted his weight on his feet, clasped his hands behind his back, brought them forward again, and then went back to clasping. All the shifting and fidgeting put Kate to mind of a squirrel. Possibly an injured one. "Most kind of you. Most. I've another, I'm afraid. Engagement, that is. Another engagement. Do excuse."

"Oh, but..." Mirabelle trailed off as Mr. Laury made a dash down the hall. "How very odd."

"Odder that you should have invited him," Kate commented. "Why ever did you do that?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"It's to be a ladies' tea."

"I was merely being polite." Mirabelle threw her a glance. "Don't you like Mr. Laury?"

"I hardly know him."

"Which is why I invited him to tea-so that you might better come to know him. He is a very nice man."

Kate watched as Mr. Laury threw a very uncomfortable glance over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner. "He is a very nervous man."

Mirabelle frowned thoughtfully. "A bit reserved in your company, that's all. I'm certain he would overcome his shyness upon better acquaintance."

Kate wondered how anyone could possibly be certain of such a thing, but decided not to ask lest Mirabelle take it as some sort of challenge. The last thing she wanted was both her mother and and her sister-in-law seeking to regularly throw her into the company of Mr. Laury. her sister-in-law seeking to regularly throw her into the company of Mr. Laury.

Hunter stood at the side of Pallton House and glowered at the door in front of him.

He wasn't in the habit of glowering at inanimate objects, but he felt the need to glower at something just then, and the d.a.m.n door was there.

He'd missed Kate while he was in town.

Less than twenty-four hours away from the lady and he missed her.

He was appalled at himself. He didn't miss people. He'd had mistresses of great beauty, considerable wit, and exceptional exceptional dexterity in the bedchamber. Business had routinely taken him away for weeks at a time, but had he ever missed any of those women? No, he had not. dexterity in the bedchamber. Business had routinely taken him away for weeks at a time, but had he ever missed any of those women? No, he had not.

He'd d.a.m.n well made sure of it, because missing implied one was significantly attached, and from significant attachment sprang inadvisable emotions like affection and need, and even love. All of which he'd spent his adult life avoiding like the plague.

A mild attachment was acceptable. The sort that had allowed for easy friendships and casual affairs. The sort one could lose, or have s.n.a.t.c.hed away, without feeling as if one's beating heart had been ripped from one's chest.

That last was a trifle melodramatic, perhaps, but d.a.m.ned if it wasn't accurate. He could still feel the echoes of that pain when he remembered. He made a point not to remember.

He made a point not to become significantly attached.

And yet one hour after leaving the house, all he'd been able to think of was returning to Kate. He wanted to see her soft blue eyes, wanted to hear her airy laugh, wanted to see the way candlelight colored streaks of gold into her pale blonde hair.

He'd thought of her when he'd spent the day with Lord Martin as well, but only as a means of distracting himself from visions of ripping out Martin's incessantly flapping tongue. He'd pictured pulling the pins out of Kate's hair to watch the locks settle on her shoulders. He'd pictured running his fingers through the tresses. And he'd imagined taking a handful to pull her in for a kiss. It had been an idle fantasy, mildly erotic in nature, and one over which he'd had complete control.

Unlike today's embarra.s.singly tame daydreams of laughter, and candlelight and...heaven help him, he'd even thought of her nose. Her nose. Her nose. No man daydreamed about a woman's nose. It wasn't natural. No man daydreamed about a woman's nose. It wasn't natural.

It was just that Kate's nose had the smallest, most adorable dimple at the very tip. Just the faintest line one didn't notice until one was an inch away and, and being an inch away from Kate...

"Oh, b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l."

It had had to stop. He would to stop. He would make make it stop. And there were only two ways of seeing it done. The first, and most expedient, was to simply walk away. Surely, with adequate time and distance he would be able to regain perspective. Probably. He would never know for certain, because he had no intention of leaving. In part because there was still the mission to consider, but mostly because walking away was a retreat, and a retreat, even a strategic one, went against every instinct he had. He wanted to win the game, not give it up. He'd not dragged himself up from the gutters by crying defeat at every obstacle thrown in his path. He'd acquired his place in the world by removing, destroying, or simply ignoring those obstacles. it stop. And there were only two ways of seeing it done. The first, and most expedient, was to simply walk away. Surely, with adequate time and distance he would be able to regain perspective. Probably. He would never know for certain, because he had no intention of leaving. In part because there was still the mission to consider, but mostly because walking away was a retreat, and a retreat, even a strategic one, went against every instinct he had. He wanted to win the game, not give it up. He'd not dragged himself up from the gutters by crying defeat at every obstacle thrown in his path. He'd acquired his place in the world by removing, destroying, or simply ignoring those obstacles.

Which left him with the second, far more appealing, option. He could indulge himself a bit. In all likelihood, his preoccupation with Kate was due in large part to his not having done so. It had been a very long time since he'd denied himself something he wanted. A very long time since he'd had to. And he'd been craving Kate as if she were a forbidden treat for what seemed like an eternity. So he'd indulge himself. Better yet, he'd over overindulge. One satisfied an inconvenient craving by tasting. One eliminated it by gorging. He'd take all he wanted of laughter, candlelight, heady kisses, and d.a.m.n it, even the dimple at the end of her nose. When he'd had his fill, he'd get back to the business of wrapping Kate around his finger.

Looking forward to both endeavors, and feeling considerably more cheerful than he had for most of the day, he pushed through the door and headed toward his room. He was going to wash off the dust of the road. Perhaps he'd have a drink. He didn't need to seek the woman out the very second he returned. He wasn't quite that preoccupied with her.

"Oh, Hunter. You've returned."

As if to prove him a liar and a fool, every nerve ending in his body sprang to attention at the sound of Kate's voice.

b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, he wasn't just preoccupied. He was obsessed.

Kate had the irrational and nearly irresistible urge to step right up to Hunter and throw her arms about his neck.

She'd missed him terribly.

While working on her music, she'd been able to push thoughts of him, if not completely away, at least far enough to the side that she was able to concentrate on the music. But without the distraction of her composition, she'd gone right back to thinking about him and her strong attachment to him and whether that attachment might be on its way to something more.

Even as she and Mirabelle had gone on their eavesdropping expedition, she'd been thinking of Hunter's dark eyes, and how they were so often guarded. And she'd thought of his deep laugh when she'd asked him what his Christian name was. And she'd thought of the strength in his arms when he'd wrapped them tightly around her in the ballroom.

Remembering now that she hadn't spoken to him since that encounter in the ballroom, she felt her cheeks heat and her heart begin to pound. Her gaze darted to his mouth. She'd thought of that as well-his firm, warm, wickedly seductive mouth. She dragged her eyes away.

"Did..." She had to clear her throat. "Did you learn anything of interest in town?"

"Not a thing," he replied, and she was delighted to see his gaze flick to her mouth. "Didn't expect to, really. The townsfolk are loyal to Lord Brentworth, and to his son by extension."

"Oh, well." She twisted her fingers behind her back. "Did you at least enjoy your visit?"

"Have you not been to Iberston?"

"Oh, yes." She laughed lightly and felt herself relax. "There's a tavern, a handful of shops, and very little else. Lord Brentworth is quite fond of it."

Hunter stepped back to lean against the wall. "He has been known to boast of its charms."

"It is rather charming, in its sleepy way. And in comparison to Pallton House, it is a marvel of entertainment. Particularly for the ladies."

"And how did you spend your day here?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest in a relaxed manner.

"Composing, mostly, and then tea with Lizzy and Mirabelle-a rather late tea due to an ugly spot of business with Miss Willory." And a brief and sadly fruitless attempt at eavesdropping. "And after tea, I ran into Lord Brentworth and Lord Martin. Lord Brentworth asked if I would play for the guests after dinner, and Lord Martin invited me to take a walk on the beach."

"Did he?" Hunter asked in a tone that somehow managed to be both casual and cool.

"Yes, and I had an excuse at the ready, you'll be pleased to know. But I never got the chance to use it, because Whit appeared, quite out of nowhere it seemed to me, and convinced Lord Martin to take up cards in the billiards room instead. Poor man looked fairly pained by the idea."

"Lord Martin?"

"Whit," she explained. "Lord Martin was delighted. He's even more easily distracted than I."

"Is that why you lost interest in him? His flightiness?"

"I..." The question startled her. Hunter hadn't broached that topic before, and she'd thought-hoped really-that he never would. She wasn't proud of the tendre tendre she'd had for Lord Martin, nor happy with the way that she'd had for Lord Martin, nor happy with the way that tendre tendre had ended, nor particularly eager to discuss either. But there was no getting out of answering a direct question. had ended, nor particularly eager to discuss either. But there was no getting out of answering a direct question.

"That would be rather hypocritical of me, wouldn't it?" she hedged, of the opinion that a direct question didn't necessarily require a direct answer. Hypocritical or not, Lord Martin's flightiness had had irritated her a little. irritated her a little.

"The two of you have different sorts of flightiness."

"There's more than one sort?"

"Aggravating and not aggravating. Yours falls into the second category," he said with smile. "If it wasn't his aggravating sort that cooled your ardor, what was it?"

She shrugged, unwilling to answer.

"Is it because your affection was returned?" he guessed.

She was willing to answer that. that. "I would "I would never never be so fickle." be so fickle."