News of the sudden betrothal spread through Mayfair overnight. The duke owned no less than thirty-nine properties in the metropolis and vast acreage in Essex. That he would marry into London’s most popular family seemed a sensible union, even if no one had guessed a match was in the making.

Society had been given little time to question his choice of bride. Lady Ravenna’s connections would have met the beau monde’s approval even if her dark radiance had not delighted the eye.

She was not a classical English rose with her sultry looks and melodious voice, which she had notoriously raised in her cousin’s gardens. She was a little too full of life for a lady.

Yet in a single evening she had fulfilled the Boscastle destiny for misdoing. More unspeakable exploits would surely follow the surprise engagement. The curious rooted for another delicious taste of gossip like pigs hunting truffles in a French wood.

Carriages circled Heath Boscastle’s townhouse like raiding parties. As he hurried home through the light London mist, he glimpsed one vehicle after another slowing at his front door as if the passengers expected to witness -- well, a stranger’s guess was as good as his.

“It’s been like this all morning, my lord,” his butler said as Heath entered the house.

More concerning to Heath at the moment were the hushed voices coming from inside his study as he crossed the hall. Who had the gall to invade his sanctuary? His wife would not entertain in his quarters. Unless she was under the influence of her Aunt Hermia, an older lady whose well-heeled friends had a predilection for painting naked noblemen as Greek deities and auctioning off their scandalous artwork for charity. But hadn’t he heard Julia in the upstairs parlor with an unfamiliar woman before he left? Was a plot in progress to sketch the Duke of Rochecliffe? Was Julia having another gown made for Ravenna’s wedding?

Whoever said that a man’s house was his castle could not have been married.

He did not overreact. The physical and emotional torture he had survived as a light cavalry officer during the war had taught him the value of self-control. But, really, no one penetrated his study with impunity. Not even his lively Welsh cousin and the duke.

Especially not Ravenna and the duke.

Although he respected Simon and would ruthlessly help him unmask his enemy, Heath perceived that Ravenna had been the duke’s weakness longer than anyone had suspected. Simon might have been able to conceal his affection for Ravenna from others, but Heath scented smoke in the air whenever the two of them shared a look.

In his room they could be sharing much more.

He reached out to open the door. A soft hand obstructed his move. He glanced around into his wife’s face and forgot what he was about. She was his weakness, and his strength.

“Don’t,” she whispered, her smile mischievous. “Leave them alone for a while.”

“My cousin is inside that room, Julia.”

“And she is with Simon, whom she will soon marry. Isn’t it better for a couple to become acquainted than to stand in the chapel as strangers?”

“That depends on the couple. They are not strangers.”

“Should I remind you what we did in a certain library before we were married? I shall give you a hint. We did not read to each other.”

“Julia, that afternoon is etched upon my soul. I do believe my life began in that library. The memory of it sustained me in many dark, dark hours.”

“You seduced me shamelessly. In front of all those books. I blush even to speak of it.”

“You had shot me and were offering consolation, as I recall.”

“Later you ravished me in a weapons room. I had not injured you on that day.”

“If you insist on reminding me of those blissful times, I shall carry you back upstairs to give you another reason for complaint.” He took hold of her hand. “It occurs to me, however, that you have exploited my weakness, and that this entire conversation is a ploy to prevent me from doing my family duty.”

She slipped around him and stood squarely at the door. “I have something to tell you before you ruin their romance.”

He laughed in admiration. “Julia, please. May this wait a moment? It is too quiet in that room.”

“But you are one of the quietest men I have ever known.”

“Then you should understand why I find that silence to be alarming.”

“Your reign of peace and quiet may soon be over,” she said, her cheeks bright pink. “You might have to grow more tolerant of disruption.”

“There was a woman in your room,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “She sneaked upstairs while I was dressing. I assumed she had come to measure you for the wedding.”

“She did come to measure me, Heath.”

“What are you trying to say?” He stared at her, awaiting her reply as the door behind her opened.

Julia stepped aside. Suddenly the duke appeared, his expression disingenuous, contrite. Heath reflected in annoyance that Simon looked as if he owned the house and was not expecting company.

Then in the next moment Julia softly announced, “I am expecting a child. The midwife told me an hour ago.” She squeezed between him and Simon and set off down the hall. “I’m changing my dress and then I’ll ring for tea.”

He pivoted to stare at her. “What did she just say?” he asked Simon blankly.

“She’s expecting a child. I don’t know when it’s due. You might want to ask her. She’s changing her dress, and then we’re having tea. Congratulations. Well done, my friend. A child on the way, a family wedding. This is quite the year.”

A warning frown wrinkled Heath’s brow. He turned reluctantly. “If you think that my wife’s news is going to distract me from the fact that you and Ravenna were sitting alone in my study -- ” He broke into an enormous grin, grasping Simon by the hand. “By God. We’re having a child.”

An heir. A boy. A girl. Heath didn’t care. Not after years of hoping and of grieving three miscarriages. He had tried to convince Julia he was at fault. His body had been subjected to unspeakable degradation during captivity. She refused to blame him. He wasn’t supposed to know that in addition to the treatments of the finest physicians, she had secretly visited astrologers, green women and Romany herbalists in the hope of enhancing her fertility.

Simon drew away from Heath. “I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to be holding hands with me at a moment like this. I’d go to her now if I were you.”

“I intend to,” Heath said acerbically. “And if I were you, I would take Ravenna into the drawing room for tea.”

“I will.” Simon grinned.

“And leave the door open this time.”