The invitations went out the next day. Mariah wrote to her parents, filled with doubt about whether more people at Starcross Castle was truly the solution to the problem of William. If he did have someone in the castle working for his interests, she was convinced it would be smarter to isolate him so that he couldn’t communicate with that person.

“You’d be surprised, my lady,” Ginny said when Mariah expressed those concerns to her as Ginny styled her hair for the day. “There’s no limit to what a bad man will do when he feels cornered.”

“But surely if William was confined to a few rooms, he wouldn’t be able to order his mole to do things like poison my soup or…or whatever other dastardly things he has planned.” She shuddered to think what they could be. Locked doors could be the least of her problems.

Ginny hummed around the hairpins she’d put in her mouth as she worked. As soon as they were all in place, she said, “He could make even more trouble if he believed he was imprisoned.”

Mariah sighed. “There is that. And in truth, I hate the idea of being anyone’s jailor.”

“Anyone’s?” Ginny asked with one brow raised.

Mariah met her eyes in the mirror and gave her a guilty look. “I don’t suppose I’d mind it if someone else took responsibility.”

The two of them shared a laugh. But there really didn’t seem to be good way to keep William under close supervision.

The situation was frustratingly impossible, and every day that passed saw Mariah’s mood sour even more. The worst bit was that a large part of her knew that if she could just let go of her anger and steal through the dressing room doors at night to slip into Peter’s bed, even if just to sleep in his arms, she would feel better. But the stubborn part of her was waiting for him to come to her first.

The first guest to arrive at the castle was Lord Malcolm Campbell, a mere two days after his invitation was sent.

“I came as soon as I could,” he said without greeting as Mr. Snyder showed him into the front parlor.

It was a grey, wet day, and Mariah, Peter, Captain Tennant, and Domenica were passing the time in the only room in the house that didn’t seem to have a damp chill in the air. Each of them was absorbed reading their own book in silence, and they all glanced up when Lord Malcolm strode into the room.

“Malcolm.” Peter jumped to his feet from the other side of the sofa he’d been sharing with Mariah. He tossed his book aside without marking the page, as if he hadn’t been reading at all, and crossed to shake his friend’s hand. “I’m so glad you could come.”

“Your letter sounded serious.” Lord Malcolm frowned as he shook Peter’s hand, then walked on to greet Captain Tennant. He nodded to Domenica, then turned his scrutinizing gaze to Mariah as she stood. “So this is the new countess,” he said.

“Mariah,” Peter confirmed, moving to stand by Mariah’s side. His smile was full of hope.

“My lady.” Lord Malcolm snapped his heels together and bowed with military precision. “You look just like your mother. I always liked her. It’s a pleasure to meet a woman who makes my old friend as happy as his letters indicate.”

A burst of emotion swelled in Mariah’s chest. Had she spent the last week being too hard on Peter by waiting for an apology before mending fences?

“The pleasure is all mine, Lord Malcolm,” she replied with a polite nod of her head. “Peter has told me so much about you.” If hinting that Lord Malcolm was some sort of spy was telling her about him.

“Don’t listen to a word he says.” Lord Malcolm grinned. He was average height and build, with more grey in his hair than brown, but he had a wicked flash of mischief in his brown eyes, and energy rippled off him. Mariah couldn’t help but like him instantly, and be glad that he’d come. He clapped his hands together. “So, where is that reprehensible nephew of yours? I’ve been dreaming up ways to set him in his place since I left London.”

“Heaven knows,” Peter answered with a roll of his eyes. “He’s been unreliable this past week. He spends half his time taunting my guests—” He glanced warily to Domenica. “—and half the time off in town or some such.”

“And has he tried to harm your bride again since the soup incident?”

Mariah’s brow flew up. So Peter had explained everything after all. “Not that I know of,” she answered. “But I will admit, I haven’t felt quite right since learning how William resents me.”

“Of course not.” Malcolm shrugged. “Half of London wants William’s head on a platter for the pile of unpaid bills he left there, and if he thinks he can extort money and more from Peter here by making you miserable, well, I’d feel as though I were walking on eggshells too.”

Mariah blinked. She glanced to Peter, wondering if his friend was always so blunt. The look Peter sent her in return—half apologetic, half relieved that someone else would back what he’d been saying all along—confirmed her suspicions.

“We just need to keep him from turning the place upside down until he gives up his schemes as a hopeless cause,” Peter said.

“Easy enough.” Malcolm nodded. “And you suspect there’s someone in the house doing his bidding?”

“Possibly,” Peter answered.

Malcolm shrugged. “It’s usually a servant with a lower position in situations like this. And money is usually the motivator. All you have to do is figure out which of your staff has new acquisitions or trinkets that they couldn’t afford on what you pay them and you’ll have your mole.”

Mariah was impressed, and for the first time since arriving at Starcross Castle, she had hope that something could be done.

It kept her spirits lifted enough through the next three days to prepare a truly grand welcome for her parents. She was eager for them to see that she was a success as a countess after all, even if everything in the more intimate parts of her life was a mess.

So it was with an excited knot in her stomach that she stood on the front steps of Starcross Castle, Peter by her side, the staff lined up like a regiment waiting to be inspected, on a sunny June afternoon, watching a hired carriage roll up the drive.

“I think this will help,” Peter said, stepping closer to her.

Mariah peeked up at him. “Do you think?”

He sent her a tender smile. “I want you to be happy, Mariah. And even though no new groom in their right mind would want their in-laws hovering around while he’s trying to pitch woo to his new wife, if it makes you feel more secure, I’ll make the sacrifice.”

Mariah laughed in spite of herself. “You’ve been trying to pitch woo to me?”

He turned fully toward her, no longer pretending to be watching the carriage approach. “Am I that bad at it?”

Her stubborn heart melted a little at his genuine wince. “When did you try to woo me?”

“I read that book you recommended the other day when we were stuck inside,” he said.

Mariah’s lips twitched.

“And I let you have the last of the clotted cream at tea yesterday,” he went on.

“That’s pitching woo?”

“I gave you that hairpin.”

Mariah’s hand flew instantly to the precious gift, nestled carefully in her hairstyle. “You don’t have to buy me things to woo me.”

He let out a sigh, but his face was more relaxed than it had been. “I told you, I’m not very good at it. I never had to court a woman before.”

“You don’t have to court me now,” Mariah said as the carriage rounded the top of the drive and pulled to a stop. Davy jumped forward to open the door.

“Oh, but I do,” Peter said with mock seriousness, straightening and clasping his hands behind his back in preparation to meet her parents. “I’ve made a terrible mess of things between us, and the only way for me to set things right is to start over and court you properly.”

A flutter passed through Mariah’s heart, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it, or any of the lovely things Peter had just said. If he truly was trying to start over with her, there had to be a way she could help.

“I do love the hairpin,” she whispered, her cheeks pinking.

He had no time to reply. Victoria hopped down from the carriage a moment later. “Heavens above, Mariah,” she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest and looking up at the castle. “I take back everything I said about the horror of marrying your fossil. This is so magnificent that even I would marry him.”

Heat stained Mariah’s cheeks, and she glanced to Peter, hoping he wouldn’t be too offended. But paradoxically, Peter looked happier than he had all week. He looked as though he were about to laugh.

“Victoria.” Mariah stepped forward, arms outstretched to greet her sister. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“And I’m thrilled to see you.” She leapt forward, throwing herself into Mariah’s arms so hard that the two of them almost spilled to the ground. “You look magnificent,” Victoria said with a squeal. “Very countess-like. Mama and Papa are going to be so sad to have missed this.”

Mariah blinked. “What?” She glanced past Victoria to the carriage, but Davy was already shutting the door as the other footmen took two trunks down from the back. “Where are they?”

“Mama and Papa?” Victoria glanced to the carriage, then back to Mariah. “They decided to stay home. Mama was curious about the castle, of course, but then Papa reminded her that they hadn’t had the house to themselves, just the two of them, in decades.” She made a disgusted sound. “You would have been sick if you’d heard the two of them talking about it and cooing at each other over tea.”

“Oh?” Mariah was beginning to feel sick at the thought of Victoria being at Starcross Castle alone. Without supervision. With William on the loose.

“What a large staff you have,” Victoria said, rushing past Mariah to inspect the line of Starcross servants. “And they’re all so fetching.” Her gaze lingered on the footmen as they carried her trunks inside. Davy had the audacity to grin back at her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Mariah caught a half snort from Ginny as she clapped a hand over her mouth. That was enough to send giggles bubbling up in her throat. She just hoped Ginny would be willing to help babysit her sister.

The strained, wary looks on Mrs. Wilson and Mr. Snyder’s face made Mariah lose her smile, though. “Victoria, you remember Peter, don’t you?” She did her best to steer her sister away from ogling the footmen and on to proper things.

“Of course I do,” Victoria said, stepping over to Peter with a suspicious look. “You look younger than the last time I saw you.”

“It’s probably the castle,” Peter said. Mariah stifled a giggle with her hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Victoria. Please come inside.”

Whether it was the sunshine or Victoria’s vivacity, for a moment, Mariah felt as though everything would be all right after all. She needed the infusion of light that her sister would provide, and she couldn’t wait for Victoria to meet Domenica. The three of them might actually have fun together.

But not more than three steps into the castle, her hopes were dashed.

“Well, well. Is this the sister I’ve heard so much about?” William asked as he descended the grand staircase in the front hall.

“Oh my,” Victoria said, pressing a hand to her stomach. Her eyes shone as she glanced up at William, as though she were seeing an apparition.

“Uncle, why don’t you introduce me to your new guest?” William picked up his pace, marching toward them with a wolfish smile.

“This was a bad idea,” Peter mumbled.

“Keep William away from my sister at all costs,” Mariah agreed.

“Indeed.” Peter cleared his throat and moved to stand between Victoria and William. “William, this is Mariah’s sister, Victoria. Show her the respect she’s due.”

“Absolutely,” William replied in a tone that showed everything but respect.

Unfortunately, Victoria burst into a laugh, her cheeks going pink. “I’m ever so happy to meet you,” she said, extending her hand.

William took it, bowing and bringing her hand to his lips. His eyes traveled to Victoria’s chest. “I think we will be the best of friends.”

“I think not,” Mariah said, louder than she intended to. “Come, Victoria. Let me show you to your room.”

“Oh,” Victoria said as Mariah hooked her arm and pulled her across the front hall. “I should really stay and be sociable.” She grinned at William.

“You can see the Channel from your window,” Mariah went on through clenched teeth. She shot Peter a warning look as she went.

Peter nodded to her, then leaned in close to William and murmured something that Mariah couldn’t hear.

“I’ll pursue whomever I want, Uncle,” William answered, loud enough for Mariah—and worse, Victoria—to hear.

Victoria sighed. “He’s so handsome,” she said as Mariah pulled her up the stairs.

“You need to stay away from him,” Mariah said. “He’s a rogue and a criminal.”

“A criminal?” Victoria sounded a little too excited by the prospect.

Mariah sighed and shook her head. “I have so much to tell you, my dear. I just hope you’ll listen.”

Peter was convinced that few men in England had a greater propensity than he did to take his troubles and make them worse. Of course Victoria would take to William right away. She was just the kind of inexperienced girl who would see a handsome face and charming manners and nothing else about a man’s character. And William had made clear in the last two days that he would pursue Victoria’s sister with single-minded focus.

“And I thought the biggest problem we’d have would be catching the rebel servant,” he grumbled as his sword clashed against Malcolm’s.

“You should have called me in a lot sooner,” Malcolm said, parrying Peter’s thrust with speed and precision.

The two of them sparred in the French garden at the back of the castle. It had been a relief when Malcolm suggested they practice that morning. No one fought with swords anymore, but for those of them who had learned how in the dawn of their youth, there was no more satisfying means of exercise. And if clashing with Malcolm helped him to hone the sort of skills he would need to spear William through the heart if he interfered with Mariah’s sister, then all the better.

“I didn’t know he would be a problem earlier,” Peter went on with a grunt, pivoting so that he could bring his sword around to attempt an attack at Malcolm’s thigh. They both wore padding, and the blades were blunted, but the strength behind his attempt was all that mattered.

“I thought William was always a thorn in your side.” Malcolm underscored his comment by slashing at Peter’s side.

Reflexes saved him, and he wheeled around with deft precision to ward off the blow. Sweat dripped down his back and wet his hair. His body was hot and alive with activity. It was a blessed relief from the tension that had been steadily growing through all the nights he’d spent alone in bed. His arms burned as he brought his sword up one more time, and his thighs were on fire as he maintained his attack stance.

At last, he struck a blow that caused Malcolm to lose his grip on his sword. It clattered to the ground, and Malcolm took a step back, hands raised, chuckling. “Someone’s not spending enough time in bed with his wife.”

If it were any other man, Peter would have slapped him with the flat of his sword, but since it was Malcolm, he laughed along with him, although without much humor. “Someone isn’t spending any time in bed with his wife, and hasn’t for weeks, thanks to the situation at hand.”

Malcolm hummed and nodded, bending to retrieve his sword. “At least Mariah isn’t as predatory as Anne.”

Peter winced. “Don’t use that word. Anne was sick. She couldn’t help herself.”

Malcolm sent him a doubtful look as he straightened and wiped his blade with his gloved hand. “Sick or not, Anne drove herself to destruction.” He pointed his sword at Peter. “You were too lenient with her, and you’re too lenient with William.”

The irritation of Malcolm’s statement had Peter buzzing with energy and ready for another round of sparring as Malcolm made an initial thrust. He was so frustrated with the whole thing that he danced his way through a quick series of thrusts, slashes, and parries and smacked his sword against Malcolm’s arm within seconds.

“I just cut your arm off,” he said through panting breaths. “That will teach you to dredge up Anne, like everyone else keeps doing, when the poor woman deserves to rest in peace.”

Malcolm shot him a look that was half grimace, half sympathy as he rubbed his arm. “You deserve peace too, my friend.” He nodded at something past Peter’s shoulder. “I hope you find it with her.”

Peter’s chest squeezed as he turned, knowing what he’d see. Sure enough, Mariah was watching him from the top of the stairs that led from the house to the garden. Victoria stood by her side, whispering something to her. Domenica was at her other side, one hand on her hip, wearing a grin.

“I’m supposed to be wooing her,” Peter told Malcolm in a grim voice.

Malcolm laughed. “You? Wooing a woman?”

“Your confidence in me is astounding.” He fixed Malcolm with a flat stare.

“Well, here. I’ll help you.”

He raised his sword and attacked before Peter was ready. His senses were still heightened enough that he was able to fend off the attack with relative ease before launching into one of his own. It was as though Malcolm had only been playing with him before. His friend threw his full effort into sparring, forcing Peter to hone in his attention, parrying and moving with every bit of skill and agility he had. He went on the offensive, swinging his sword around to clash loudly with Malcolm’s. The effort of battle had him sweating and his blood pounding again in no time.

At last, Malcolm’s strength flagged, and Peter was able to strike a winning blow to his padded side. Malcolm reeled back, holding up his hands in surrender. “All right. All right, my friend. You win.” His eyes flashed with mischief as he glanced past Peter. “You definitely win.”

Peter turned, still panting from the fight. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, blinking as he watched Mariah walking toward him. She was lit up with excitement, and, if he could believe what he was seeing, lust.

“This must be one of those other martial skills you told me you have,” she said, a little breathless.

Heaven help him, Peter felt like a cocky young lad impressing the ladies for the first time. “You never know when you’ll need to defeat Saladin’s armies single-handedly,” he said, resting the point of his sword in the dirt and leaning on it.

Mariah raised a hand to her mouth to hide a giggle. He wanted to sweep her into his arms then and there and kiss her until every misunderstanding and frustration between them was cleared up.

“Where did you learn these knightly skills, my lord?” she asked, playing along.

Peter softened his stance. “When I was young. Sword-fighting was outdated even then, but a group of my school friends who shared a fascination with history convinced one of the old teachers at our school who had fought against Napoleon to teach us what he knew.” He shrugged. “I kept up with it over the years as a means of exercise.”

“You could have taken up cricket or tennis, you know,” Victoria said, crossing her arms.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Malcolm asked, stepping forward. Before Victoria could answer, he went on with, “Where were you after supper last night, Miss Victoria?”

The arousal in Mariah’s expression dampened, and she flushed as she turned to her sister. “She went to bed early.”

“I went to bed early,” Victoria repeated, turning bright pink.

Dread filled Peter’s gut. Victoria was as transparent as a window. At least William had been out, at the pub in Truro, no doubt.

“We should organize some sort of group activity for this evening,” Malcolm went on, the light of calculation in his eyes. “And for tomorrow, and the next day and the next.”

The thought of so much time in company exhausted Peter. He glanced to Mariah. “I hope we are all given some leave to spend our time in more intimate groups.”

Mariah bit her lip to hide a smile and seemed to notice something in one of the nearby flower beds that was fascinating.

The only bed Peter was interested in was the one up in his room. It wouldn’t take much to convince Mariah to break down the wall between them and take up her rightful place by his side in that bed. And under him as well. He was so close to resolving things with her that he could feel it in every fiber of his body.

“If you’d like,” he started, hesitant, hoping what he was about to suggest wouldn’t backfire on him, “I could teach you the basics of swordplay.”

Mariah glanced back to him with a smile. “I think I’d like that.”

Relief rushed through Peter. “It’s very simple.” He handed her his sword. Malcolm and the other women faded to the edges of his awareness. All that existed for him was Mariah. “Hold the hilt like this.”

He stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her and closing his hands over hers to show her the correct grip. It was so intoxicating to have her close that his body reacted in far stronger ways than it should have with the others standing right there.

“Like this?” Mariah asked softly, glancing up at him.

Their faces were only inches away. It would only take a small movement and he could kiss her. Everything about the look she gave him and the way she leaned toward him hinted that she wanted to be kissed. Malcolm would forgive him if he kissed his wife and ignored him. He could just—

“My lord.” Snyder’s anxious call threw cold water over everything Peter was trying to enjoy. He was forced to take a step back so that he could deal with his butler. “My lord, I think you should come at once.”

“What is it, Snyder?” he growled, frustration closing its iron grip around him once more.

Snyder closed the distance, nodding to the ladies and to Malcolm, then turning to him. “My lord, more guests have arrived.”

Peter frowned. “I didn’t invite any more guests.”

“I know, my lord. But they’re here regardless.”