“Lavinia, wait!”

Lavinia stopped, squeezing her eyes shut and clenching her jaw at Armand’s concerned shout. A headache was beginning to wrap around her temples like a tight band, and having her reluctant, experienced husband chase after her only made it worse.

“Please, go on ahead,” she said to the others in a tired voice. “Mrs. Ainsworth, could you please provide my mother and friends with tea in the pink room?”

“Yes, my lady, though I thought your guests would like to see their rooms and freshen up first?” Mrs. Ainsworth asked with a compassionate look.

“Oh, no,” Lavinia’s mother snapped. “Planning for this afternoon is far more important. Do as you’re told, woman.”

Lavinia winced again, but there was no time to chastise her mother for ordering Mrs. Ainsworth around. Armand caught up to her, touching her elbow as he came to stand in front of her. The last thing Lavinia wanted to do was to air out her marital problems in the front hall when a wave of guests was shuffling about and almost all of the servants of the house were marching around them to prepare for the sudden house party.

“Lavinia, I’m—”

“I know.” She cut Armand off before he could make yet another apology. She couldn’t quite meet his eyes, though. “You’re sorry. You’re sorry you’ve allowed a dangerous man to stay in your house. You’re sorry all of your friends have descended on me when I’ve barely begun to take up my role as the viscountess. You’re sorry you have a past that involves other women, women of my acquaintance. You’re sorry you never told me you are traveling half a world away so soon after marrying me, and you’re sorry you married me. You’re sorry, you’re sorry, you’re sorry.”

She gulped for breath as her outburst ended, startled that she’d had the nerve to blurt it all out. Heart racing, she glanced up at Armand at last.

He stared at her, an odd look in his eyes. As if he’d never seen her before. At least he wasn’t angry. Although anger would have been more recognizable than the blankness that stared back at her.

Her shoulders dropped as she let out a breath. “No, I’m sorry,” she said, rubbing her throbbing temples. “I have duties to fulfill. A good wife does what is required of her without sullenness or complaint, Mama always says. At least I’ve made her happy.”

Still, Armand said nothing. But his expression shifted from bewilderment to pain. Lavinia could only stand to look at it for a split-second before the hurt and disappointment of her life gaped too wide inside of her.

“Good luck finding the letter,” she said, barely above a whisper, then turned to march off after her mother and friends. Her throat squeezed and her eyes stung with the temptation to weep, but there didn’t seem to be any point. She’d never had any control of her own life, and it appeared that that hope was gone forever now. It was no use shedding tears over the independence she would never have, not when the entire house was sitting on a powder keg.

Before she entered the pink room—where she could already hear her mother and Lady Stanhope bickering—Lavinia took a deep, steadying breath. She could do this. She had one, key task ahead of her—find a distraction to get Shayles and his friends out of the house so that Armand and the others could search his room.

“Now then,” she announced herself with feigned confidence as she strode into the room. “What activities would get everyone outside and keep them away from the windows?”

“I was thinking a treasure hunt,” her mother answered immediately, her eyes bright. “Or a scavenger hunt. I hear that Lady Tavistock treated her house guests to the most amazing scavenger hunt last summer.”

“Lavinia, dear, are you certain you’re all right?” Lady Stanhope approached her with an expression of deep concern.

Lavinia stepped to the side to avoid her, marching across the room to open one of the windows. “What is involved in a scavenger hunt, Mama?” She glanced back over her shoulder in time to watch Lady Stanhope and Marigold exchange a wary look. Her stomach twisted. Her friends must have thought she was a baby. She was well aware they’d always considered her hopelessly unsophisticated, compared to them. And so she had been. But not anymore.

“Well,” her mother said, dodging the antique furniture to reach her side, eyes bright with excitement. “A variety of unusual items are placed throughout the grounds and gardens of the house. The guests are given a list of those items. They must form pairs with other guests and traverse the grounds to collect them.”

Lavinia didn’t need the glimpse of Marigold and Lady Stanhope’s expressions to understand that the point of the game was the pairs and the secluded corners of the gardens, not the objects ostensibly being searched for, as her mother seemed to think. “Very well,” she said. “Mama, I leave it to you to work with Mrs. Ainsworth and Mr. Bondar to choose items and locations for the objects. I will pair with Lord Shayles and—”

“No,” Marigold and Lady Stanhope said at the same time. They rushed across the room to plead with her.

“That man is far too dangerous,” Lady Stanhope said.

“So I’ve been told,” Lavinia replied with a wry twist to her lips. She could barely look at Lady Stanhope without imagining her so-called friend entwined in a passionate embrace with Armand.

It was clear from the stolid frown that creased Lady Stanhope’s brow that she could read Lavinia’s thoughts. “What’s in the past is in the past,” she said, regardless of Lavinia’s mother and Marigold standing on either side of them. “And if it makes you feel better, it was thirteen years ago. You were, I believe, twelve-years-old at the time?”

Lavinia bristled. “Mama,” she snapped, “would you please find out what is holding up our tea?” Mrs. Ainsworth couldn’t possibly have had time to make it so quickly, but giving her mother a reason to scold the servants was the best way to get rid of her.

“Yes, of course,” her mother answered, taking the bait.

As soon as she was out of the room, Lavinia rounded on Lady Stanhope. “I have always looked to you as a role model, Lady Stanhope. I have admired your independence and your boldness. But I am beginning to question whether my mother has been right all along about your morals.”

“Why?” Lady Stanhope asked, the widening of her eyes the only sign that Lavinia’s words had offended her. “Because I’ve lived my life on my own terms? Because I made the best of a bad situation and refused to let the strictures of society stop me from enjoying myself? Isn’t that exactly what you’ve always said you want for yourself?”

Lavinia jerked away from her, staring out the window and feeling as miserable as she ever had.

“This isn’t helping,” Marigold said, her voice calm. She stepped to Lavinia’s side, nudging her to sit in the cushioned window seat and sitting beside her. “Men all have pasts, dearest,” she went on, stroking Lavinia’s hand. “Especially those who have lived longer than us. Fortunately, we rarely discover who was involved in those pasts. But you shouldn’t hold it against Katya. The only reason we don’t all have pasts of our own is because of the rules we’ve imposed on ourselves.” Lavinia glanced up at her, biting her lip as she swallowed the truth. “I’m sure, if given half a chance, we’d all be as daring as Katya. But right now, that’s not the point.” She paused, taking Lavinia’s hand and squeezing it. “What happened? You were upset when we arrived, long before that horrible man said the things he said. What did we miss?”

All at once, the tears Lavinia had struggled so hard to keep inside burst. “He doesn’t want me,” she wept, dropping her head onto Marigold’s shoulder. “He’s planning to leave me and go to India. He didn’t even tell me until Dr. Miller mentioned it last night.”

To Lavinia’s surprise, Lady Stanhope huffed a laugh. “Armand has no more intention of running away to India than I have.” She sat on the window seat on Lavinia’s other side. “I doubt there even is a Dr. Maqsood.”

“A who?” Lavinia asked.

“Dr. Maqsood, from Mayo Hospital in Lahore,” Marigold said softly.

Lavinia’s eyes went wide. “So there is an actual doctor making the offer?”

“Armand is bluffing to get under Malcolm’s and the others’ skin,” Lady Stanhope said. “I had my girls look, and there is no Dr. Maqsood at Mayo Hospital.”

Lavinia barely heard her. “You knew all about this offer, and you never told me?”

“Because it doesn’t exist,” Lady Stanhope stressed.

“But you knew and I didn’t.” Lavinia sniffled, wiping her eyes and nose. “And that is the point.”

Lady Stanhope shook her head, rubbing Lavinia’s back. “The point is that men will never tell us anything without being prodded into it. They’re as dense as Christmas pudding. If you want something from Armand, you have to stand up and demand it.”

Lavinia stared at her, brow furrowed. She was still furious with Lady Stanhope, or at least she thought she was. “Am I supposed to stand up and demand that he love me?” she asked, trying to be as resolute as her mentor was, but feeling weak.

“Is that what you want?” Marigold asked. “For Armand to love you?”

Lavinia lowered her head, heat flooding her face. It seemed foolish to demand that a man she’d barely known up until a week ago love her. But the way things had been between them the morning before had been divine. Armand had made her feel free and cared for, and she’d never felt that way. It was like the bud of love had been nipped before it could bloom.

She sucked in a breath and lifted her head. “I don’t want him to spend the rest of his life resenting our marriage,” she said. “And I don’t want him to continuously apologize, as if marriage were a bout of ague or a carriage wheel stuck in the mud.”

“That’s more like it,” Lady Stanhope said, patting her back. “What else?”

“I don’t want him to stay at Broadclyft Hall, moping like a boy who has had his favorite toy taken from him. If he truly wants to go to India to practice medicine, then he should just go.”

“And leave you here to run his estate in his place?” Lady Stanhope suggested, arching one brow.

“Yes.” Lavinia nodded, although inwardly, her gut trembled at the overwhelming thought. “And as such, I have guests to entertain and a viper to subdue.”

She stood. As luck would have it, her mother returned to the room, a maid with a tray full of tea things behind her.

“Lavinia, I need you to take me on a tour of your gardens immediately after tea,” her mother said. “I have to know what sort of items to include on the scavenger hunt lists as well as where to hide them.”

“Certainly, Mama,” Lavinia said, crossing the room to pour tea for her friends. “We need to make this activity a true challenge for the gentlemen.”

Her concerns and heartbreak weren’t resolved, not by any stretch of the imagination, but Lavinia felt less like a wilting wallflower as she sipped her tea and listened to her mother prattle on about house parties she’d been to in her past. The important task of the afternoon was to enable Armand and the others to get their letter back. Her marriage would have to wait to be fixed. And as uncomfortable as she felt with her knowledge of Lady Stanhope’s connection to Armand, it didn’t take long for her to decide she didn’t want to know a single further detail about whatever had been. She was determined to focus on Lady Stanhope’s advice to ask for what she wanted instead. Just not yet.

“This is so exciting,” her mother said a few hours later, as the entire house party gathered on Broadclyft Hall’s back yard. “I’ve made up lists for all of you of things you will be able to find on the grounds of the estate.” She nodded to the maid, Sophie, who glanced warily at Lord Shayles as though expecting him to assault her at any minute as she handed out lists. “Some of the objects can be found naturally in nature, but others are things from the house that have been specifically placed.”

“And what does the winner of this scavenger hunt receive?” Lord Shayles asked, eyeing Lavinia with a wolfish grin.

“How about a certain letter?” Lord Malcolm growled.

“I’d be willing to part with the letter if, in exchange, I can have what I want, should I win,” Lord Shayles replied, biting his lip at Lavinia.

“No.” Armand stepped between Lavinia and Lord Shayles, blocking the man from Lavinia’s sight.

Lord Shayles made a disappointed sound. “Come now, Dr. Pearson. If you want something valuable, you have to be willing to offer something valuable in return.”

“Valuable,” Armand said. “Not priceless.”

A whisper of hope swirled around Lavinia’s heart, but she pushed it away. She’d gotten her hopes up too many times in the last few days to indulge in hope now. Besides, they had a mission to accomplish.

She stepped around Armand, ignoring him as she addressed the others. “The winner of the scavenger hunt will have the privilege of walking into supper first this evening, regardless of order of precedence,” she said.

“Ooh.” Her mother clapped her hands together as though Lavinia had offered a pot of gold. “It makes me wish I was playing instead of organizing.”

“Lord Shayles,” Lavinia stepped closer to the man, fighting to hide the tremor in her hands. “Would you care to partner with me?”

“Lavinia, no,” Armand hissed behind her.

“My lady, I advise against it,” Mr. Croydon said in a grave voice.

Lord Malcolm glared at Lord Shayles as though it were his fault.

“Well, well.” Lord Shayles sidled across the lawn toward Lavinia. “This is an interesting turn of events. Your wife is quite the hostess, Pearson.”

“Dash it,” Dr. Miller murmured to a distracted-looking Lord Gatwick behind him. “I was going to partner with Lady Helm, if you know what I mean.” He elbowed Lord Gatwick, who jolted out of his thoughts and sneered at him.

“Lavinia, you shouldn’t do this,” Armand continued to protest.

“Oh, Armand,” Lady Stanhope cut off what looked as though it would develop into a lecture. “Do let your wife play hostess as she should.”

“But—” Armand gaped, gesturing from Lavinia to Lord Shayles.

“Makes you wonder why you bothered, eh, Pearson,” Shayles laughed.

Lavinia held her ground, staring hard at Armand, demanding he trust her and get on with whatever he planned to do. Armand turned pleading eyes on her, but his expression morphed to a frown when he met her eyes. He glanced momentarily to Lady Stanhope, who also stared him down with a look that demanded complete trust. “Carl,” Armand snapped at one of the footmen hovering by the scene. “I want you to accompany Lady Helm and Lord Shayles. Watch them at all times.”

“Yes, my lord,” young Carl answered, looking pleased to be entrusted with the task.

“Wonderful,” Lavinia’s mother said, suppressing a giggle. “We have our first pair. Now, who else will pair up?”

Within moments, Marigold had stepped up to Lord Gatwick’s side and Lady Stanhope had gone to stand by Dr. Miller, looking thoroughly put out. Lord Malcolm strode to stand beside Natalia Marlowe, whispering something in her ear, and Rupert hooked arms with Bianca.

“I suppose the two of us will have to pair up,” Mr. Croydon muttered to Armand.

“Yes, because that is entirely trustworthy,” Lord Shayles said, dripping with sarcasm, as he offered an arm to Lavinia.

Unease prickled across Lavinia’s skin. The game had yet to officially start, and she suspected that Lord Shayles knew exactly what they were up to. Her heart raced as she ran through their options in her head. The one thing she knew was that they couldn’t call off now.

“Mama, if you will give the word for us to start,” she said, pleased that her voice didn’t quiver for a change.

“Yes, yes, my dear.” Her mother cleared her throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, you may begin.”

“Good luck,” Lord Shayles said over his shoulder as he whisked Lavinia off toward the French garden. “And may the best man win.”

Lavinia remained silent for the first few minutes, darting glances this way and that to make sure Carl was following them and to make sure that Armand and Mr. Croydon would go straight inside. Malcolm broke away from Natalia and snuck into the house after them. If Lord Shayles asked what she was looking at, she would tell him she was keeping an eye on her guests, making sure they got off to a good start. But he didn’t ask. He merely grinned as though he were on a pleasant stroll and escorted Lavinia into the sculpted flower beds and hedges of the French garden.

“This list says that we need to find a shard of china,” he said at last, looking at the small list he carried. “I say we will never be able to find anything with as perfect a porcelain texture as your lily-soft skin, my lady.”

Lavinia cleared her throat, forcing her back straight. “I’m certain that’s not what my mother meant by that item.”

“No?” He led her around a corner and onto a walk that held rows of apple trees in full fruit. The cloying smell of cider filled the air. “I would have pegged your mother as the sort to steer you into precisely the situation that would prove the most advantageous for your social connections.”

Lavinia stopped, letting go of his arm and turning to stare at him. Carl stood several yards away, looking ready to leap to her rescue, but she steadied him with a subtle shake of her head.

“If you are referring to the unusual nature of my marriage to Lord Helm, then I’m afraid you are mistaken, my lord,” she told Lord Shayles, praying she could hold her own against him. “Lord Helm and I have been on friendly terms for over a year. The house party at Winterberry Park merely enabled us to clarify our intentions toward each other.” She didn’t know why she told the lie, but she couldn’t stand the smug look on Lord Shayles’s face.

“Certainly, my lady,” he said, clearly not believing a word. “But we must remember, marriage is only one kind of intimate relationship.” He brushed the back of his fingers along the row of buttons running down her bodice, raking her breast as he did. “Especially when the husband runs off to exotic lands.”

Lavinia froze. Her heart raced, but she didn’t move a muscle either to panic, push him away, or, God forbid, give in to him. She merely stared hard at Lord Shayles’s cold, blue eyes, without flinching. Within seconds, what began as a fear reaction caught hold in her mind. She was suddenly reminded of the way Lord Shayles had abandoned supper when no one rose to the challenge of his prodding.

“Hmm.” Lord Shayles took a half step back and studied her, head tilted to the side. “That wasn’t what I was expecting,” he said, hinting she might be right.

“And what did you expect, my lord?” she asked in as much of a monotone as she could muster. Her mind raced. How much time did Armand need to search Lord Shayles’s room? She couldn’t keep up her current façade long.

Lord Shayles shrugged, then crossed his arms. “To be honest, I’m not certain. I figured there was an equal chance that you’d either scream rape and dissolve into a pitiful mess, or….”

He didn’t continue, so Lavinia asked, “Or?”

A devilish smile pulled at his lips. “Or you’d fling yourself at me and beg me to show you all the things I’m certain your husband would never dare to.”

Lavinia’s heart sped up, but not because of the lewd suggestion. She’d stumbled across something, possibly Lord Shayles’s weak spot. He needed a reaction. “What things are those, Lord Shayles?” she asked, terrified on the inside but desperate to keep her face as blank as possible.

The curiosity in Lord Shayles’s eyes intensified. “I could tell you things that would make you shriek in horror,” he said, his voice a seductive purr. “That is, if they didn’t make you so wet your juices dripped down your thighs.”

Lavinia blinked. Revulsion warred with a strange sense of power and arousal within her—not for Lord Shayles or his words, but because of the power she sensed she suddenly had in the situation—but she battled to maintain a mask of banality.

A frown creased Lord Shayles’s brow and he shifted his weight to his other leg. “There is an exquisite amount of pleasure to be had in pain, my dear,” he went on. “I could do things to you that would have you begging me for mercy in more ways than one.”

Lavinia cocked her head to the side. “Oh? Such as?” Her stomach writhed with snakes, but she stood her ground.

“I could tie you up with rope so rough it would chafe your sweet skin, with knots pressed hard against your most delicate parts,” he said, leaning forward and arching a brow at her. “I’d stimulate you until you were on the verge of coming, and then I’d deny you over and over and over.”

The memory of the way Armand had touched her and the blissful relief she’d felt when her body responded flooded her. But they also left her wondering what it would have felt like if he’d stopped before she’d burst, leaving her suspended in that bittersweet agony of need. But her only outward reaction to Lord Shayles’s fiendish suggestions was to blink once more. “And what would be the point of that?” she asked.

Lord Shayles inched back, studying her. “Perhaps there are other things that would tempt your fancy. I doubt your upright, doctor-viscount-husband would ever dream of smacking that sumptuous ass of yours until it glows pink, then spreading those cheeks and taking you in the most sinful of ways.”

Lavinia simply stared at him. No one actually did that, did they? She kept her question buried as far inside as she could, betraying no emotion at all. No fear, no shock, no curiosity. She would give the horrible man nothing.

With a short, impatient breath, Lord Shayles changed his stance yet again. “All right, then. Perhaps you are more the sort that enjoys fucking two men at once, or more.”

It took everything Lavinia had not to gasp at his use of such a foul word or his suggestion of something so wicked.

“It’s possible,” Lord Shayles went on. “Very possible. I’ve seen it.” He leaned closer. “I’ve taken part in it,” he whispered. “One man to fill your slippery little cunny, one up to his balls in your ass. I could even arrange a third to thrust his cock down your throat. It’s quite a sight when all four participants come at once.”

Her stomach churned in disgust, and she had to tense every muscle of her body to keep herself from shaking like a leaf in a storm. She focused every last ounce of her concentration on maintaining an expression of pure, absolute neutrality and disinterest.

Of all things, Lord Gatwick came to mind, the way he stared at artwork while Lord Shayles spewed the most hateful things, the way he seemed utterly nonplussed by the sewage he was mired in. A spark of genuine curiosity cut through her battle to hold back Lord Shayles’s evil. Perhaps Lord Gatwick hated the man as much as she did and only feigned interest in art and such to keep his repulsion at bay. But why? Why would the man torture himself with Lord Shayles’s company so frequently if he hated the man? Why would he—

“Bah!” Lord Shayles backed away from her, wiping his mouth as though he’d plucked one of the apples from the trees around them and bit into a worm. “I’ve never met such a cold fish in my life.”

Lavinia drew in a slow breath, surprised that it wasn’t a gasp of shock at being caught in her thoughts. “I’m sorry, my lord. It is my duty to make certain all of my guests are happy and at ease while under my husband’s roof. Is there anything I could do to make your stay more enjoyable?”

Lord Shayles gaped at her, several vile emotions flickering across his face. He settled on condescension and snorted a laugh. “No, my dear. I don’t believe you’d know how to make anything more enjoyable for me in any way. There’s no point in seducing you after all. You’d probably just lay there like a limp squid while I buggered you senseless. You wouldn’t even have the decency to scream when I hurt you.” He tugged at his cuffs, licking his lips as if dispelling a bad taste, and glanced around. “At this rate, Pearson will abandon you for India without my help.” He sniffed. “Which is the quickest way back to the house?”

“The house?” Lavinia asked, still clinging to her blankness, though, oddly enough, it was harder to keep up the ruse now that he wasn’t interested in her. What did he mean about Armand abandoning her for India without his help?

“The house, yes, the house,” Lord Shayles hissed with impatience. He stared at her, then rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“I never said you were, my lord.”

He ignored her, going on to say, “This whole stupid thing,” he waved a hand, gesturing around the garden, “was just a ploy to allow your dear husband and his friends to search for their letter.”

Lavinia tilted her head to the side, attempting a confused look.

Lord Shayles sneered at her. “Oh, give it up, sweetling. They’re probably turning my room inside out at this very moment. But they won’t find anything.” He reached into his coat pocket, pulling an envelope far enough out for her to see. She knew the Winterberry Park stationery as well as her own. Marigold had sent her dozens of letters on the stuff. “I suppose we should head back to the house and catch them in the act,” Lord Shayles went on as though bored out of his mind. He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

Lavinia had to think fast. She cleared her throat. “If you don’t mind, my lord, I feel I should check on my other guests first.”

“Oh, very well,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Go call for the cavalry. I’ll race you to see who can catch the corrupt politicians first.”

Without waiting, Lord Shayles turned and marched off toward the house. Only when he’d turned the corner did Lavinia let out the breath she felt like she’d been holding for the last ten minutes. She clutched her stomach, heaving for breath, then stumbled to the side and promptly cast up her lunch on the roots of one of the apple trees.

“My lady, are you all right?” Carl jumped into action, racing towards her.

“I’m fine.” Lavinia gasped, shaking violently. “Go after him,” she ordered. “And if you see Lady Stanhope or Mrs. Croydon on the way, don’t prevaricate, just tell them what’s happening.”

“Yes, my lady.” Carl nodded, then rushed off.

Lavinia darted off in the direction she thought she’d seen Lady Stanhope and Dr. Miller head in. The game was over, and if they weren’t careful they’d lose.