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Finally he growled a little and gatheredain in front of Isabella’s house

Ian refused to coh he’d of course fastened his trousers again I expected hiain and continue our wanton entertainh, and I believe he’d not had a chance to cohtest trace of the headache she’d affected before I left In fact, the deceptive young woh the rain hadn’t slackened one whit I declined to attend with her, because lan wasn’t escorting us, and I couldn’t iht that could e on this wet day

The hotel room was hot and close, despite thethrown open to coax in the summer breeze The suite had been fitted with a fan that spun lazily overhead, propelled by co to move the still Italian air

"There is another one, Your Grace"

The Duke of Kilan’s whippet-thin valet laid a newspaper across the volue Wilfred had folded open for him, but the relevant story was obvious A society paper sketch portrayed Ian Mackenzie alongside a lovely young wo woman, his sister-in-law, Isabella, beamed Stark capitals, with e:

A new alish heiress, Mrs A --, accompanies Lady I and her brother-in-law to a production of La Bonne Femme, the latest and hty Mrs A

"Who the devil is this worowled He’d never heard of her, never seen her before "Lord Ian is quite rich, Your Grace," Wilfred said in his creaking voice "Perhaps she seeks to double her investment" "I find no humor in it, Wilfred" Hart bent the pen in his hand until the slender instrument snapped Ink splattered across the newspaper

"Of course not, Your Grace"

"Da at?"

"You think she has a hand in it, Your Grace?"

"Both hands Dalared up at Wilfred, the man flushed "I mean, sir, that if her ladyship likes this Mrs Ackerley, approves of her, perhaps all is well? If your brother, his lordship, enjoys her coe where he should think about settling down" Hart watched him steadily until Wilfred trailed off "You’ve been in my employ ten years, Wilfred You know Ian, and you knohat he’s capable of" "I do, Your Grace"