Peter clenched his jaw, wondering what new mayhem was about to befall. “Who are they?” he asked Snyder, pushing himself into motion.

Snyder turned to walk with him back toward the castle. Behind them, Mariah handed her sword off to Malcolm, then picked up her skirts and hurried to Peter’s side.

“They gave their names as Mr. Poole and Mr. Robinson, my lord,” Snyder said.

“Poole and Robinson?” Peter ran a hand over his face to clear the last of his sweat from practice away. He should have gone up to his room to bathe and change before meeting the unexpected guests, but since he doubted they had invitations, he didn’t feel it was necessary. “Did they say anything else?” he asked as they stepped into the house through the morning parlor and headed toward the front hall.

“Only that they have been invited by Lord William to attend the house party, my lord.”

Understanding mingled with dread in Peter’s gut. “I see.”

He wore a deep frown by the time he strode into the front hall. A pair of men were waiting by the front door, hats in their hands, looking around as if they’d never been in a country estate before. They weren’t the brash, smirking sort of men that Peter had expected William to have as friends, so rather than going on the attack from the first, he proceeded with caution.

“Gentlemen,” he said, greeting them with the air of command he’d honed in the military. “What can I do for you?”

One of the men stepped forward. He was short, with thinning hair, but his suit was finely tailored enough to mark him as a member of the upper classes, or at least the upper middle class.

“Benjamin Poole, my lord,” he said, holding out his hand with a hesitant smile. “And this is my friend Dick Robinson.” He gestured to the other man, tall with reddish hair, with his thumb.

“My lord,” Robinson said, bobbing awkwardly as he came forward.

Peter worked to remain expressionless as he shook each man’s hand. They weren’t upper class. Their accents gave them away. That and the way they seemed out of their depth. So why were they pretending to be something they weren’t?

“Are you friends of William’s?” Peter asked. He was highly aware of Mariah coming to stand by his side, as if she wanted to be introduced. But the thought of letting two strange men have anything to do with Mariah made his blood run cold.

Poole and Robinson exchanged looks. A flash of something that seemed to confirm Peter’s darkest suspicions passed between the two of them. It was gone as soon as it appeared, though, leaving Peter wondering what exactly he’d seen.

“William told us we’d be expected,” Poole went on. “And…and welcomed.”

“We wouldn’t have come otherwise,” Robinson added. “Only, he said there was a house party and all.”

“Is this the missus?” Poole asked, sending a toothy smile Mariah’s way.

Mariah started to smile in greeting, but Peter cut her off with, “This is the Countess of Dunsford.”

Poole pulled back the hand he had begun to extend to Mariah.

Mariah flushed, suddenly glaring at Peter.

Peter sighed inwardly. He would catch hell for coming between Mariah and the guests later, but until he was certain they were harmless, he didn’t want her to risk falling into whatever trap William had set.

He was spared having to confront Mariah then and there—or having to send her away—as Malcolm strode into the hall from the morning parlor. “These are the new guests?” he asked without preamble.

Poole and Robinson tried to hide their flinches, but they weren’t fast enough. And any man who flinched at the sight of Malcolm Campbell wasn’t a man he wanted in his house.

“Mr. Benjamin Poole and Mr. Dick Robinson,” Peter introduced them.

Malcolm hummed as he came to a stop by Peter’s side. He glanced across to Mariah. “Domenica was hoping you’d join her in the garden, my lady.”

Mariah’s cheeks flushed a darker shade of rose. “I’m fine here for the time being, Lord Malcolm.”

Poole and Robinson glanced between the two, and Peter suddenly felt as though he were playing umpire in a particularly contentious cricket match.

“Mariah.” He turned to her, lowering and softening his voice. “I think it would be best if you join Domenica until we can figure out who these gentlemen are and why they’re here.”

Mariah’s back went straight and her eyes opened wide with offense, but before she could say anything, Poole said, “We’re friends of William, like you said. He invited us to stay for a while, as long as you were having guests.”

“He did, did he?” Malcolm crossed his arms, studying the men while stroking his chin.

“Yeah,” Robinson said, mirroring the gesture with a hint of hostility. “We go way back, William and us. We’re thick as thieves.”

“I don’t doubt that last part,” Malcolm muttered.

The need to do something about the new arrivals made it hard for Peter to stand still. He was on the verge of telling the pair there had been some mistake and that they wouldn’t be able to stay, when a peal of laughter announced Victoria and William as they strolled into the front hall, arm in arm. Peter’s frown darkened.

William saw Poole and Robinson and nearly missed a step. The color drained from his face, but before Victoria had finished laughing at whatever joke they had between them, William had recovered.

“Gentlemen,” he said, letting go of Victoria’s arm and striding to meet the new arrivals. “You’re here.” His voice cracked.

“William, who are these men?” Peter asked.

“They’re, ah, friends of mine, of course,” William said, maneuvering between the two and draping his arms over their shoulders. “I invited them, but I didn’t think they’d actually come.” He said the last bit through clenched teeth.

“Not come?” Poole chuckled. “And miss a chance for a relaxing vacation in Cornwall?”

“Yeah, we couldn’t do that,” Robinson said.

“Of course not.” William’s smile was entirely too large. “Well, let’s get you gents settled, and we’ll talk about all the fun we can have during my uncle’s party. Besides which, I have a proposition for the two of you. About that matter we discussed last month. Snyder?”

William pushed his friends toward the stairs. Snyder glanced questioningly at Peter instead of following after them.

Peter blew out a breath and rubbed a hand over his face. “What is it Albert says? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?”

“That’s fine for him,” Malcolm said, heading for the stairs as well. “He lives on a boat.”

Peter watched as his wily friend followed Snyder up the stairs. Heaven only knew what he hoped to learn about the men by tailing them.

He was ready to escape to the garden to find Albert and apprise him of the new development when Mariah wheeled on him and hissed, “How could you embarrass me like that?”

Peter was so taken by surprise that he stepped back, blinking. “I beg your pardon?”

“They are our guests. It was my duty to greet them,” Mariah seethed.

“Neither of them was particularly handsome,” Victoria—who had inched forward during the conversation—added as if trying to console her sister.

Mariah pursed her lips and shot Victoria a sharp, sideways look. Her inexplicable wrath was mostly for Peter, though. “How am I supposed to find my way as mistress of this house if you keep throwing house parties without informing me and telling me to be silent while you’re greeting our guests, as though I’m some sort of child?”

“I wouldn’t exactly classify William’s friends as houseguests,” Peter said, knowing that whatever came out of his mouth was going to be the wrong thing to say. Like anything he had tried to say to console Anne when she was in a mood. Since he was doomed to failure, the least he could do was voice his concerns about the men. “Any friend of William’s is someone who both of you should stay away from,” he said.

Mariah’s jaw hardened, and she balled her hands into fists at her sides. “So now you’re forbidding me to talk to our guests? Should I simply stay in my room for the next few weeks, until everyone leaves?”

Peter’s jaw fell open. Not more than fifteen minutes ago, Mariah was looking at him with a smile that whispered of reconciliation and the potential for ending his lonely nights. Now she glared at him as though he were the devil. And it felt too familiar. He’d traveled this path before, and it had brought him nothing but misery.

“My dear,” he said, trying to keep the weariness he felt out of his voice. “It was never my intention to drop you into the pit of vipers that is William and his friends. I would grab each one of them by the collar and toss them out the nearest window if I thought it would keep you safe. I would carry you off to the Orient if doing so would eliminate the dangers we’re facing right now. And yes, if it stops you from being poisoned again or worse, I would wrap you up in cotton-wool and keep you in a tower. But it’s not because I think of you as a child or incapable. It is because I fear what I might be capable of if William brings this whole debacle to a head. I would rather not have to snap my brother’s son’s neck. Forgive me for seeking out a way to protect you without violence.”

Mariah studied him, tension and emotion radiating from her in the silence. Peter couldn’t tell if she wanted to slap him or fall into his arms. He wanted to give her the world and all it contained, but for the moment the only thing he felt like he could give her was time to think.

“Excuse me,” he said with a short bow. “I need to wash up before supper.”

With a stab of guilt sharper than any sword, he walked past Mariah and mounted the stairs two at a time. Once again, he’d been a fool to hope that his life would be settled and happy at last. There didn’t seem to be a thing he could do that would make a wife happy.

Mariah watched Peter retreat, wanting to scream at him…and wanting to cry out for him to stay. She wasn’t sure where her burst of temper had come from, other than the feeling of being treated like a child. But his words were so beautiful they’d stunned her. It hadn’t dawned on her that his efforts to protect her could come from fear. Nothing frightened Peter. Or so she’d thought. Now she wasn’t so sure.

“William would never be so rude,” Victoria said, gloating.

Mariah glared at her in disgust, but misery quickly overtook that emotion. She snapped away from Victoria and rushed through the hall and the morning parlor and back out into the garden.

“My lady, what happened?” Domenica asked as Mariah fled past her.

Mariah paused in her flight, biting her lip. Part of her wanted to be alone in her misery, but her new American friend was marching toward her as if she wouldn’t stop until she discovered what was wrong. So Mariah smoothed her hands over her skirts, sniffed, wiped her eyes…and burst into fresh tears.

“Mi amiga.” Domenica picked up her speed, closing her arms around Mariah and hugging her like a sister. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m being silly,” Mariah wailed as Domenica walked her over to a bench in the shade of a wisteria-covered arch. She growled at herself, then wiped her tears away with her sleeve. “Peter is probably right to forbid Victoria and I from speaking to the new guests.”

“Who are they?” Domenica asked, rubbing her back.

Mariah shrugged. The gesture turned into an uncomfortable roll of her shoulders. “I’m still not quite certain. Friends of William’s?”

“Lord William has friends?” Domenica’s voice was thick with sarcasm.

It was almost enough to make Mariah laugh. “I know that Peter is only trying to protect me, but why does it make me feel like I’m being treated like a child?”

“How does it make you feel that way?” Domenica continued to rub her back.

“Not letting me speak. Attempting to send me away. Behaving as though I’m incapable of handling the trouble William has caused. It all reminds me of the way people have pitied me and tried to shelter me since Robert jilted me.”

Domenica arched a brow. “Your husband not coddling you, mi amiga. He is protecting you. He doesn’t want you to be hurt.”

“I know,” Mariah sighed, picking at her skirt. “And part of me thinks I’m overreacting. But I’m just so…so angry. And so sad. And a thousand other emotions I can’t keep straight.”

“Truly?” Domenica shifted to face her more fully, a curious look on her face. “Are you usually emotional?”

“No,” Mariah cried, throwing out her hands in a helpless gesture. “That’s what frustrates me. I’m not like this, Domenica, I swear. But ever since marrying Peter. Ever since having my life turned upside down, I don’t know who I am anymore. Did you know that my father failed to mention he’d promised me to Peter until the day before he arrived at our house?”

“Albert told me.” Domenica nodded, then frowned. “Were you forced to go through with the marriage?”

“No.” Mariah’s shoulders slumped, and she went back to picking at her skirt. “Peter and I talked. He was more than willing to let me call it off.”

“But you agreed to marry him. Why?”

Mariah bit her lip. “Because he seemed so kind and…and sad. Like he needed someone in his life. He talked about his first wife, how she died childless after several heartbreaking miscarriages.”

Domenica hummed, nodding.

“And as my mother said, Peter was my last chance of ever marrying.”

“Why?” Domenica shrugged. “You’re still young and pretty, not to mention intelligent. Men should be lining up for your hand.”

Mariah sent her a watery smile. “None of that was likely, thanks to the rumors my former fiancé spread before he died.”

“Rumors?”

Mariah glanced down. “That I was cold, uninterested in intimacy.”

“But you’re not.” Domenica spoke as though she were certain and not just guessing.

Mariah’s cheeks heated. “No, I’m not. In fact, in spite of the fact that Peter was willing to give me time before….” She nodded, hoping Domenica would understand without her having to say it.

A knowing grin spread across her friend’s face. “Then I was right.” Her smile grew.

“Well, you were. Those first few days of our marriage….” Again, she let her sentence drift off with a sigh. “But then everything turned sour once we arrived here.”

“Once William came between you?”

Mariah nodded. “To tell you the truth, I miss the way things were between Peter and I at first.”

“You miss the joy of being one with a man who loves and cares for you,” Domenica said, a wicked flash in her eyes.

Mariah bit her lip. “I wouldn’t say that Peter loves me.”

“You wouldn’t? He looks besotted to me.”

“We’ve only known each other for a month or so.”

“Is that how long you’ve been married?”

Mariah counted the days in her head. It felt as though she’d been at Starcross Castle for years, but between the turmoil of their arrival, the days she lost in bed with food poisoning, and the business of having houseguests, it had been a month.

Something else about the time that had passed struck her as strange, but she couldn’t think what.

She sighed. “This will all be a distant memory if we can convince William to leave,” she went on. “If I can make it that long.”

“You will, mi amiga.” Domenica took her hand and squeezed it.

“I just wish that I could believe we really will have seen the last of William once he’s given up,” Mariah went on. “But if the man can bribe one of the servants to taint my food and make me sick, there’s no end to what he could do to me. Especially if he’s still Peter’s heir.”

“Well, now, I don’t think he will be for much longer,” Domenica said with a grin.

Mariah shook her head. “If Peter and I don’t find a way to reconcile, if he doesn’t stop treating me like a child who can’t manage my own affairs—”

“And if you can’t find it in your heart to forgive him for wanting to keep you safe?” Domenica added, her expression downright mothering. “Don’t forget that his first wife was of a fragile and unpredictable character. Chances are, he’s not used to women who can stand up for themselves.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Mariah said, feeling worse than ever.

“Give him time.”

Mariah let out a weary breath and nodded. “It would be so much easier if William were gone, or if the house weren’t crawling with people, or if I felt right in my own skin.” When Domenica tilted her head in question, Mariah went on with, “I just want to feel like myself again.”

“And you say this odd feeling has been with you since marrying Peter?”

“Yes.” Mariah sighed. “At first I thought it was because my monthly was coming, but—”

She stopped, a wild idea taking hold in her mind. She glanced to Domenica, only to find her grinning as if she knew the answer to a riddle that Mariah didn’t.

“You don’t think….” she began, but was too overwhelmed to finish the thought. Domenica’s smile widened. “But that’s far too soon, isn’t it? I mean, we’ve only known each other for a month.”

“Chiquita, it only takes one time.” She squeezed Mariah’s hands. “I’ve spent most of my life around women who lay with men, enough to know the signs. For some, it never happens, no matter how often they’re with a man. For others, God help them, the first night they spend with a man leaves them with a child.”

Mariah swallowed hard. The idea of being pregnant was one thing, but hearing Domenica speak about such things so openly made her tremble. “It doesn’t seem possible.”

“Believe me. It is possible. And it seems it is more than that now. How late are you?”

Mariah closed her eyes and counted. “More than a fortnight.”

“And are you reliable?”

A sudden ache filled Mariah’s heart as all of the pieces came together. It wasn’t just time. She hadn’t felt right for weeks. She’d blamed it on starting a new life, food poisoning, and stress. But it was all suddenly clear to her.

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered. A moment of terror made her feel hollow, but before she could grab hold of that, a deeper joy filled her. “Peter will have his child so much sooner than he anticipated.” She managed a smile. “William won’t have any sort of hold on him, or Starcross Castle. All we have to do is make through the mess in front of us.”

“And you will make it, mi amiga,” Domenica said, hugging her tightly. “I will be here with you to make certain you do.”

“Thank you, Domenica. Thank you so much.” She hugged Domenica back, unendingly grateful to have such a good friend.

“So, are you going to tell your husband?” Domenica asked.

A cold shiver curled down Mariah’s spine. “I suppose I have to,” she said. “But I don’t know how I can.”

“You will know when the time is right,” Domenica assured her. “And when you do, I’m certain whatever other troubles you have, especially those caused by Lord William, will vanish.”