He turned to Lucinda. "I believe I'll join the faro table. There is an open seat." He bowed to her, then nodded to Campbell. "Good evening."

For the next few hours, he played without cease, tossing back gla.s.s after gla.s.s of brandy. Lucinda watched him from the other side of the room, but he didn't care. They were finished.

Campbell was a more visible irritant. He joined the table next to Jack's, talking behind his hand to the gentlemen on his right and left, glancing frequently at Jack.

The details of Jack's marriage would be all over town tomorrow, d.a.m.n it, along with the story of Fiona' s "abilities." While no one would believe it, they would unconsciously be on the lookout for signs.

What a b.l.o.o.d.y mess. If he kept Fiona in seclusion, the rumors would only grow. The only answer was to present her to society quickly, and make her known. Which meant he would have to attend all the boring, bland affairs he studiously avoided.

d.a.m.n it all. He was just beginning to realize how much his lifehad changed.

The bright sunlight awakened Fiona, and she opened her eyes to an unfamiliar room. Ah, yes. She was in London. With Jack.

But the bed was empty. She sat up uncertainly and looked at the clock. Nine o'clock. And no Jack.

Blast him. She threw aside the cover and scooted to the edge of the bed. The movement tickled her aching muscles, reminding her of how heavenly making love with him had been.

She swung her feet over the edge of the bed, hugging a pillow to herself. Heavenly.

Now she had to face the other realities of her marriage, namely her absent husband.

"This will not do," Fiona announced. "I did not come to London to sleep by myself."

She slid from the bed, her bare feet sinking into the thick rug. Her clothes lay on the floor, a puddle of muslin and silks topped with her boots. She scrunched her nose; if she put her gown back on, it would be a wrinkled mess. Still, she had little choice. She gathered her clothes and went to the washbasin on a stand in the corner. She washed as well as she could and dressed, then put up her hair.

She crossed to the door and flung it open, then stood, listening, trying to discern where she might find some breakfast. She could hear the rumble of carriages outside, the shout of a coachman, dogs barking, vendors shouting their wares-all the normal street noises of a city. She also caught the faint murmur of voices inside and came out onto the landing, smoothing her gown as best she could.

She had just taken the first step down when a plump lady dressed in the neat gray and white of a housekeeper came into the foyer below. Fiona recognized her from the night before and said, "Good morning."

The woman stopped dead in her tracks, her face instantly folding into disapproval.

Fiona paused. She had done nothing to merit such a look. It was almost as if the woman- Realization dawned. Jack hadn't introduced her to the servants when they'd arrived last night; he'd

carried her into the house and straight upstairs to his room. They must all think she was a ladybird. Fiona's hands fisted at her sides. Blast Jack for leaving her alone! Well, she'd just have to deal with it herself.

Head held high, Fiona descended the stairs. She nodded pleasantly to the housekeeper. "I am looking for Lord Kincaid." The woman's chin lifted. "If he didn't tell you where he was going, then 'tis none of your concern." Fiona's back stiffened. "I beg your pardon, but itis indeed my concern. He is my husband." The housekeeper gawked."What?" Fiona didn't think she could have shocked the woman more if she'd announced she had just grown another head. "I am Lady Kincaid."

A door at one side of the foyer opened, and a tall man emerged from a side room, a neat swath of linen

folded over his arm. "Mrs. Tarlington, I believe this is-" He stopped when he caught sight of Fiona."Oh, I am sorry. I did not see-forgive me, Miss-?" "Lady Kincaid." The butler blinked, then bowed. "Good morning, my lady. I am Devonsgate, his lordship's butler." "It is a pleasure to meet you," Fiona said. "I am looking for his lordship. Do you know where he might be?"

Mrs. Tarlington sniffed but didn't say anything more.

Fiona gave the plump housekeeper a stern look before turning back to the butler. "His lordship went out last night shortly after we arrived. I thought he would be home before now, but he is not. Unless he is taking breakfast?"

The butler cleared his throat. "His lordship doesn't take breakfast. At least, not before noon, and only if he arrives home in time, which he didn't."

"I see," Fiona said.

"Yes, my lady. It is not unusual for his lordship to stay out all night."

That would have to change; she could not imagine that such behavior was healthy.

She frowned, catching sight of herself in one of the large mirrors that flanked the hallway. Her gown was hideously wrinkled, her hair barely contained with her few pins, her face flushed. It dawned on her that the gown she wore was the only one she possessed.

She turned her gaze to the butler. "Before he left, did his lordship make any arrangements for me?"

"No, my lady. He just called for his carriage and left." The butler gave her an apologetic look. "Usually when his lordship has aguest, he will tell us she is not to be disturbed and to see to it that she arrives home safely. He did not make such a request in your case."

"Mrs. Tarlington, please send a bath to my chambers and have someone come help me with my hair and gown. I was forced to leave my home in a hurry and did not bring anything else with me, so I shall need to have this gown cleaned and pressed."

The housekeeper's lips thinned, but Fiona turned to the butler. "Devonsgate, please send a tray to my room. Just tea and toast will do."

"Yes, madam. Will there be anything else?"

"Yes. I wish to send a note to his lordship. Do you know where he might be?"

The butler's expression froze. "I might be able to locate him," he said cautiously.

"Excellent. Pray send him this message. Tell Lord Kincaid that hiswife wishes him to come home, and if he does not make an effort to do so soon, she will come and fetch him."

Devonsgate paled, but for the first time, Mrs. Tarlington's wide mouth split in a reluctant grin.

Fiona turned back to the stairs. "I shall expect the bath and the maid immediately. Breakfast can wait until after that." She paused, one foot on the bottom step. "Actually, make that breakfast for two. I am certain his lordship will waste no time in returning home."

Thatshould set a precedent of no small order. Feeling better, Fiona walked briskly up the steps.

Mrs. Tarlington said, "Well, I'll be! His lordship has a wife!"

Devonsgate stared up the stairway after Fiona, his mouth agape.

Chapter Eight.

Don't think the MacLean was not affected as well. He was. He took one look at the White Witch, and he tumbled head over heels. MacLeans are like that, ye know. They only love once, but och! What a love that is!

OLDWOMANNORA OFLOCHLOMOND TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD NIGHT.

"My lord?"

Jack looked up at a footman who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. "Yes?"

"My lord, I have a message for you." The footman glanced about the table, then back to Jack.

"Animportant message."

Jack blinked blearily around the room, noting with faint surprise that the company had greatly thinned.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"It is almost ten o'clock, sir."

Jack squinted at him again and recognized the livery. "You're one ofmy fellows?"

The footman gave a sigh of relief. "Yes, my lord."

"Well, then, what's the message?"

The footman again glanced at the other gentlemen, then bent near Jack's ear. "It's aprivate message, my lord." "Ah!" said the duke of Devonshire, filling his and Jack's brandy snifters again. "Aprivate message, is it?

Then by all means, tell it!"

The footman looked pleadingly at Jack. "Perhaps we could retire to the hall?"

"h.e.l.l, no," Jack said. "I'm winning!"

The duke nodded. "He's right. He is winning."

Lord Kennelsworth shook his head. "Aye. He can't leave with all of our money."

"Andmy new jeweled buckle," the duke said.

"Sir,please, " the footman said in Jack's ear, his expression growing desperate. "We should leave."

"I can't," Jack said. "I'll get wet."

The footman blinked. "But...the sun is shining."

"As if that b.l.o.o.d.y matters!" Jack snarled. "Just give me the message and be done with it."

The footman bit his lip. "But my lord...this is not a message you'd like repeated aloud."

"Oh-ho!" Lord Kennelsworth looked up from his cards. "You'd best be ready, Kincaid-here it comes!"

Jack eyed Kennelsworth blearily. "Here what comes?"

"You have a new wife, don't you?"

Jack nodded.

"And you left her at home," Devonshire interjected. "Now here is your man, telling you he has a private message for you."

"So?"

Lord Kennelsworth shook his head. "You don't see it, do you? Poor b.u.g.g.e.r! Do we have to spell it out for you?"

Jack knew he was missing some great truth, but his mind would not focus. "Spell it out."

"Good G.o.d, Kincaid!" the duke said. "It's obvious your lovely wife wants you home.Now. So she's sent this young fellow to fetch you."

Kennelsworth tossed his cards to the table. "I'm done here, anyway."

"Poor Jack." Devonshire shook his head sadly, throwing his own cards down as well.

Jack pushed his cards across the table, then pulled his winnings forward. "You are all mistaken. Fiona would never call me home." Kennelsworth pocketed the coins on the table. "I think you're wrong, Kincaid. Ask your man for the message."

Jack looked at the footman. "Very well. Tell us your message."

The footman took a deep breath. "The message is from the woman you left at the house. She says she is your wife-"

"Aha!" Kennelsworth said, grinning broadly.

"I knew it." Devonshire chortled.

"And her ladyship requests that you come home as soon as poss-"

"Ha!" Kennelsworth banged his hand on the table, sending brandy sloshing onto the felt cover. "I should have asked you to wager on it, too! Come, Devonshire. Shall we go to White's and have a bit of breakfast?"

The duke nodded, clambering to his feet, and the two men wove their way out the door, arms around each other for support.

"My lord? Should I call for the carriage?"

Jack scowled. His d.a.m.ned damp carriage. "No. I think I'll walk home."

He rose, stuffing wads of notes into his pockets. "You may accompany me if you wish."

"Yes, sir," the footman said, looking none too happy.

Half an hour later, they reached the house. Jack staggered as his boot hit a loose cobblestone at the curb.

The footman immediately rushed forward, but Jack waved him off. "I can walk by myself, thank you."

The footman bowed. "Yes, my lord." He stepped out of the way, but not so far back that he couldn't catch Jack's arm if he stumbled again.

Jack noted that but decided to be magnanimous. It wasn't the footman's fault that he didn't understand Jack's superior ability to drink and remain unaffected.