Meg moved closer. "She's right, John Graves. You know she is."

"Promise me you'll do nothing." Jane squeezed his hand. "Say you'll return to your room once you leave here."

He bit back all the words he wanted to say and stood silently, fuming at the two women.

"Promise me."

"All right, you've my word. I won't do anything. I won't say anything."

"Thank you." As Meg nearly collapsed with relief, Jane turned to her. "I want you to go with him to make sure he stays out of trouble."

"But I should help you bathe."

"Actually, I'd rather be alone. I'll clean up, and then take a bit of the fresh morning air. I need to clear my senses and decide how to face the days to come."

"If you're certain ..."

Meg looked so torn between her duties to her lady and to her lover that Jane's heart ached. What would it be like to love someone so much? "Go." She smiled. "Don't worry about me. I'll ring as soon as I need you again. Enjoy the last few hours of the night together."

While she wanted to have a long luxurious bath, she didnat want the Earl walking in while she was naked and thinking he could exercise his marital rights. If he wanted her again today, she'd kill him. She truly would.

After soaking as long as she dared, she dressed herself in a comfortable day dress, leaving behind her corset and other trappings. Feeling refreshed, she wanted to get out of the house to the fields beyond, perhaps to walk along the river and watch the sunrise while she planned her next move.

Quietly, she tiptoed down the stairs. No one was about yet, and probably no one would be for several hours. She made it across the foyer without encountering guest or servant. Heading for the back of the house, she stepped into one of the huge sitting rooms, intending to slip out a back door onto the terrace and down to one of the pathways leading through the gardens.

Whispers stopped her only a few feet into the room. A man and a woman were having a romantic assignation on one of the couches. The back of the couch faced her so she couldn't see who it was, which was just as well. What kind of people were these friends of her husband's that they would couple on one of the divans where anybody might walk in? The woman sighed, the man groaned and Jane blushed bright red as she turned to go, hoping to back into the hall undetected.

But the woman's voice stopped her cold.

"Yes, right there. Oooh . . . you know how I like that." Lady Margaret.

The man chuckled. "You are such a glutton for pleasure." Her husband.

In all her life, Jane had never imagined she had tendencies toward murder. While killing was rare, it happened, and whenever she'd heard of it, she'd been unable to fathom the rage required to take the life of another.

Now, upon hearing her husband whispering love words to another woman a few short hours after their wedding, she knew. Quiet but determined, she retreated to the hall.

Because of the hours she'd spent alone at the Ship-works, her father had instructed her in the use of firearms. She'd always kept a pistol nearby, although she'd never had occasion to use it. There was a collection of pistols in the library, neatly arranged on display in various cases. Wessington owned several varieties of the Dragoon pistols so favored by British cavalry soldiers. She chose the one with the longest barrel; it looked intimidating. Then she headed back to the sitting room.

Although she walked quietly, as she approached the couch and stepped around the end, she realized she could have made any amount of sound and neither of the lovers would have noticed. They were too caught up in what they were doing. She tucked the pistol into the folds of her skirt, hiding it from view.

Lady Margaret was stretched on her back, Wessington on top of her. He was shirtless. She was dressed in some sort of exotic red underclothing trimmed in black, which, when fully in place, would have barely covered her torso. Unfortunately, the top had been lowered and her breasts were on full display. Jane had to admit that they were quite something. Full and round, the nipples large and nearly a dark purple color. And hard. Very, very hard. Her husband's hands were making sure of it as he stroked one between his thumb and index finger.

Margaret arched her back, offering them up. "Stop teasing, Phillip. You know what I want"

The world seemed to move in slow motion as Jane watched her husband's mouth begin to descend to the woman's breast. Her rage exploded. "Yes, Wessington, by all means, you know what she wants. Stop teasing her."

The lovers both paused, as if their minds could not fathom where the third voice was coming from. At the same time, they looked to the side and saw Jane standing there. Phillip jumped to his knees. Margaret shrieked and tugged at her bodice, trying to find enough of the scanty cloth to cover her swollen mounds.

"Jane ..." Phillip squeaked. So shocked was he by her sudden appearance, he could barely say her name.

"Yes, Lord Wessington, it's Jane. Your new, beloved lady wife. So nice of you to remember my name." She was so angry her entire body was shaking. "I see you do know how to make love to a woman. I was doubtful last night."

"Whatever are you doing down here?"

"I might ask you the same question, but I can see the answer with my own eyes."

Phillip rose off the couch to his feet. "Jane ... I can explain ..."

"I doubt that you can."

By now, Margaret had adjusted her bodice and had slipped into a robe which covered her from shoulder to foot but was skimpy enough to see through. Sitting up and covered, she was back to her cocky self. "Jane, you're making too much of this." She looked bored by the whole affair. Her lips hinted at a slight smile, showing just how amusing she felt the situation was. "Everyone knows that Phillip and I are good friends."

In an authoritative tone that surprised all of them, Jane responded, "You do not have my permission to call me by my given name. Ever!" She glared at her husband who looked as though he'd just swallowed a toad. "What does she mean by good friends?"

Margaret chuckled. "Don't be such a silly goose, Countess. What do you think I mean?"

Phillip managed to find his voice again, some of his aristocratic demeanor returning. "Shut up, Margaret, and leave us. I wish to talk to my wife alone."

"No," Jane countermanded, causing Phillip to raise an eyebrow and Margaret to chuckle again. Tears surged to her eyes, which surprised her. She thought she'd cried them all out earlier with Meg and Graves, but she refused to let them fall in front of these two despicable people. Faced now with the fact of her own naivetea" it had never occurred to her that her husband might currently have a leman or that it was Margareta"she was nearly too ashamed to ask, but she had to. "Is she your mistress?"

Phillip sighed, then answered quietly, "Yes, Jane, she is."

The audacity, the impropriety, the lack of respect were beyond understanding. "You brought this woman, this whore, into my home and invited her to stay as a guest during our wedding celebration? How could you do such a thing to me?"

Margaret's light voice tinkled. "Actually, Countess, it's the Earl's home. I'd say he can invite whomever he wants."

"Shut up, Margaret," both Jane and Phillip shouted at the same time.

Jane pulled the pistol from behind her skirt, causing the lovers to gasp. "I've got one shot, and for the life of me, I can't decide who deserves it more."

"Really, Countess," Margaret offered, waving a hand in dismissal, "if you're going to shoot someone every time your husband takes a lover, you'd better stock up on plenty of ball and powder."

The remark was the last straw. Jane turned and fired point-blank at her husband. He had the good sense, coupled with the agility, to duck just in the nick of time, and the explosion whizzed past where he'd been standing only moments before. If he hadn't moved, she'd have blasted his heart out.

For long seconds, no one moved. The trio was so stunned by the fact that Jane had actually fired the pistol. A woman, a wife, simply was not allowed to attempt murder against her husband, especially when that husband was a peer of the realm. Smoke hung heavy in the air, sifting silently to the floor.

Phillip was the first to act, jumping to his feet and reaching for the weapon. "Give me that thing," he ordered.

Jane threw it at him, then jumped next to the fireplace and grabbed a poker which she held so threateningly he stopped in midstep.

Sounds came from out in the hall. Several servants now huddled in the doorway, as well as a few guests who'd jumped out of bed at the sound of the shot. In their various stages of half-dress, they would have appeared comical if the scene hadn't been so shocking. What the Earl and Margaret had been doing was so apparent that people were standing openmouthed. Jane could already hear the scandalous gossip which would be sweeping London before the day was out.

With others in the room, she wasn't fearful of what her husband might do or say. She took command, looking to him first. "I will speak privately to youa"later." Without giving him a chance to respond, she turned to Margaret and waved the poker. "As for you, you will leave my home within the next fifteen minutes, and if I ever have the misfortune to see you near my husband again, I'll kill you where you stand."

Margaret, refusing to be put down in front of any members of Society, scoffed. "I'll not leave unless the Earl asks me to."

Just then, Graves entered the room, barefoot and wearing trousers, but tucking his nightshirt in at the waist. "What the bloody hell ... !" He stared at the three of them, at the two lovers barely dressed, at the pistol on the floor; he smelled and saw the gun smoke hovering in the air. "Oh, no . . ." He turned to Jane.

"Graves, Lady Margaret is just leaving." She turned to him in a magnificent fury, and everyone standing in the hall jumped out of her way. "Come with me."

"And you told me to behave myself," Graves muttered as he, then Meg, then several other servants followed Jane to Margaret's rooms.

Jane methodically pulled out valises and trunks. "Pack it. Pack it all. I want all of her things sitting in the front drive in fifteen minutes. Meg, see to it." She looked to Graves. "Have a coach brought 'round to take her back to London immediately. If you have to, place hera" bodilya"inside. Tell me when she's gone. I'll expect to hear from you in twenty minutes."

"Yes, Countess." Graves left, and Jane followed him out, turning down the hall and walking back to her own room, oblivious to the smiles and silent applause of her staff. Jane was now their heroine.

Chapter Thirteen.

Jane sat at the window, looking out. Carriages had been pulling out for hours as various wedding guests decided the festivities had come to a quick halt. Curiously, as the afternoon drew to a close, there were also many carriages and horses coming into the drive, the drivers or riders stopping for a moment, then leaving again. She couldn't figure out what that was about and didnat want to. There were too many other things on her mind.

It had taken most of an hour to get Margaret down the road. After her departure, Jane had sat alone, wondering what to do, what was going to happen. Shooting at one's husband was a very serious affair. There would undoubtedly be consequences.

No matter what, she could not stay in London, living on the fringe of Wessington's social life, ashamed to go out because people might see her and recognize her as the jealous shrew who fired at her husband simply because he was making love to his mistress. The members of the ton were so immune to taking partners outside of marriage that they were sure to wonder what all the fuss was about.

Yesterday, Jane would have wondered herself. After all, in her naive state, she'd been thinking she could do the same thing to the Earl, but now that she'd recognized the intimacy of the marital act, such behavior on her part would be unthinkable. With a grimace of distaste, she thought of the times Gregory had tried to coax her to bed him without regard to how it might affect Gertrude. How little Jane had understood what he was truly asking her to do! To think that she'd almost acquiesced.

Elizabeth had tried to explain it to her and had failed, but she couldn't fault her friend. How could one adequately explain what a man did to his wife under the bedcovers? It hurt to imagine her new husband engaging in such a private moment with another woman, but it hurt more to realize that he hadn't really wanted to do it with her. His lack of regard for her as a partnera" in fact, his seeming distaste for hera"was a cruel blow. He obviously knew how to perform the marital act in a passionate manner, but he hadn't cared about Jane enough to show any interest in an affectionate coupling. The knowledge hurt.

A knock sounded, and Graves entered as she continued to stare at the latest horseman making his way to the front door. For not the first time that day, she wondered why such a good person as John Graves would serve a cad like her husband.

"Whatever made you come to work for Lord Wessington?" she asked.

"Actually, he rescued me, after a fashion."

"Really? How?"

"Oh, I had a bit of trouble with my last employer."

Jane shifted slightly so she could see him. He was standing across the room, his hands full of envelopes. "What happened?"

"My last employer turned his attentions on his children's governess. She was a sweet thing. Young and alone. He got her in the family way and then kicked her out. She had nowhere to turn."

"What did you do?"

"Let's just say I tried to make him see the error of his ways."

"You struck him?"

"Actually, 'beat him bloody' would probably be more adequate. I was jailed in Newgate. Lord Wessington somehow heard about what had happened. He bribed some people and brought me to his home."

"Di the two of you know each other previously?"

"No. That's what makes me shake my head about him sometimes. He can do the most wonderful thing, and then it's almost as if he has to do something dastardly to prove that he didnat mean to do anything good in the first place."

"And the girl? Whatever happened to her?"

Graves paused, wondering momentarily if he should share the secret He made up his mind quickly because he trusted Jane and knew it would be safe with her. " 'Twas Meg."

"Meg?" Jane could barely conceal her shock.

Graves misread what she was dunking. "None of it was her fault. I hope you won't think badly of her."

"You know me better than that I'm just surprised is all. And the babe? I didnat realize she had any children."

"She doesn't. The babe was stillborn."

"How does she come to be working for Wessington?"

"Lord Wessington let me bring her here. He let her stay with me while she was increasing and through her childbearing time. He gave her a job after that"

"I can't believe that he would show such kindness to another."

"I know. Not when you see how he acts at other times. It's almost as though he's two people. Deep down, he knows how to do the right thing. It's just hard to get him to do it. But that's why I haven't given up on him. If I thought there was no hope, I'd have left months ago."

Jane sighed. Maybe Graves hadn't given up on Phillip Wessington, but she had. In her eyes, there was nothing worth saving. "So, has he sent for the constables?"

"No. He shut himself in the sitting room after this morning's . . . ah . . . adventure . . . and he hasn't come out."

"Do you think he will send for them?"

Graves merely shrugged. "I'd like to think not."

For the first time, Jane's eyes strayed to the envelopes in his hands. It was a large stack, with several dozen items. "What have you there?"

"You're not going to believe this."

"What?"

"They're invitations. For you. They've been arriving all day. Ever since the first group of guests left early this morning."

"Invitations? Whatever for?"

"Teas, poetry readings, musicales. Several are for more formal events, for which the Earl has already received invitations, but it seems London's finest hostesses want to be certain that he brings you along."

Jane was wide-eyed. "But why would they want to meet me?"

Graves shrugged again. "Have you spent much time around the Quality?"

Jane shook her head.

"They're a fickle lot. Too much time on their hands. Too much money. So few things to care about. Easily bored because of it."