Swapping places was a game that Rhys and Ravenna had played throughout childhood to confound their nursemaids. The charade had started one morning when Rhys put on one of Aunt Primrose’s wigs to startle his sister. Ravenna took revenge on him when she appeared at supper that evening clad in a pair of his breeches.

Over the years they became adept at trading their traditional roles. Ravenna employed her male disguise to slip from the castle and ride through the woods to her heart’s content.

Rhys assumed Ravenna’s identity in order to tryst with young ladies who would never be allowed to meet a gentleman alone. A carriage ride with a duke’s daughter, however, was a social activity an ambitious parent would encourage. Brother and sister perfected the art of imitating each other.

After Liam’s death, the game lost its appeal. Griffin was a careless guardian, too close in age to meddle more than necessary in his siblings’ affairs. And while time might have diminished the aunts’ physical abilities, it had not dimmed their other faculties. Once Glynnis and Primrose caught on to the double-dealing, Rhys and Ravenna had been compelled to invent more sophisticated forms of trickery.

Until tonight. And why not? It was a night for the young duchess to celebrate. Her husband was unweighted. They could live in love and peace and, if Ravenna’s instincts (as well as Jane’s) could be trusted, then Ravenna was carrying the duke’s heir. The fact that she had missed her courses might not signify a pregnancy. It was too early to consult a midwife, although Jane had offered the services of her personal astrologer.

Ravenna did not crave cucumbers, but as she had admitted to Simon, her always robust appetite had increased, and she wanted to nap at the oddest hours. She covered a yawn behind the plumed hat she was holding. “I was exhausted in the early days of carrying my children,” Jane confessed.

Ravenna was more concerned they could be overheard by the other ladies who had entered the small receiving room to gossip and preen. In fact, one guest was staring at Ravenna and Jane with overt interest. She whispered, “Lately it’s been an Olympian feat to walk from one end of the North Audley Street house to the other.”

“That isn’t like you,” Jane said. “I say yes to your question.”

“Simon would be mortified if he learned of his impending fatherhood from the rumormongers,” Ravenna said softly. “Who is that woman standing in the corner?”

“Oh, dear.” Jane adjusted the crown that served as an accessory to her disguise as Queen Guinevere. Ravenna smiled at the thought of Grayson roaming about the party as the legendary king of Camelot.

“That is Mrs. Watson,” Jane said softly.

“The Audrey Watson. The courtesan?” Ravenna narrowed her eyes as the woman smiled at her in acknowledgment.

“The one,” Jane whispered.

So this was the high-cost society hostess who had given Simon his undignified sobriquet, the informal title that had tainted or perhaps enhanced his reputation. Ravenna squared her shoulders as Jane greeted the woman with gracious enthusiasm -- almost as if Audrey were a family friend.

Ravenna intended to offer no such warmth.

What she did not anticipate, however, was that Mrs. Watson would melt her resentment. In the first place, Audrey looked more like a matron than a procuress. She was costumed as a modest chatelaine, a medieval castle housekeeper in a square-necked dress with a ring of keys hanging at her waist.

“You can imagine what she does to the men imprisoned in her dungeon,” Jane murmured rather disconcertingly in Ravenna’s ear. “Debauched and wonderful deeds.”

“How would you know?” Ravenna wondered aloud.

“I went to her for advice on how to handle Grayson.” Jane smiled at the memory. “He had become, let us say, as devious as me and unapologetic in his pursuit of pleasure.”

“Devious -- you, Jane?” she teased. “And did she help?”

“Immensely,” Jane said. “She gave me the confidence to bind the scoundrel to the bedposts with my stockings to teach him I was not to be played with like a mouse in a lion’s paws. It didn’t take him long to reverse the situation, naturally. But I did make a point. And I enjoyed the lesson.”

They lapsed into silence as Mrs. Watson crossed the room toward them. “Your grace is as captivating as everyone claims,” she said to Ravenna. “No wonder your husband has loved you all his life.”

This was not the opening statement of a rival; still, while it flattered Ravenna, it also implied that Mrs. Watson had extensive knowledge of Simon’s romantic history. Had he confided his secrets in a courtesan? He had been honest in admitting that he had visited the Bruton Street house. But Ravenna never dreamed he had confessed his love for her to another woman.

“How do you know this?” she demanded of Audrey. “Did he tell you?”

“I’m talented at reading men, my dear,” Audrey said. “He didn’t have to say much about you.”

“He talked about me -- in a brothel?”

Jane came to the rescue. “I think Lady Ravenna is a little miffed at you, Audrey.”

“Why?” Audrey asked, her keys rattling. “I have never slept with her husband. I’ve not even kissed the darling man on the cheek.”

Ravenna’s eyes widened.

“It’s that incendiary nickname you gave him,” Jane said. “’The Duke of a Thousand Desires.’ It has caused the duchess some personal grief.”

Audrey stared at Jane in incredulous silence before she broke into laughter. “You beautiful feather-brain. That isn’t what I dubbed him. It’s close but inaccurate, at least as far as I know. We refer to him at the house as ‘The Duke Whom a Thousand Desire.’ He’s highly popular with the ladies, all the more so because he appears uncaring of the fact. And he is unattainable. My girls would adore the duke as a protector, but he’s never shown the tiniest interest in any of them. He is indifferent to our charms, not a gentleman disposed to temptation or dissipation that I have witnessed. I drew him into a heated conversation, but not into a bedchamber.” She sighed. “Such a desirable man. How happy he must make your grace.”

“Silly me,” Jane said with an embarrassed smile. “I was a little confused. Titles do that. Ravenna, does that reassure you?”

She concealed a smile. “I did not doubt him. But -- ‘his desires are indecent’?”

Jane shrugged. “I assumed if he had a thousand of them, some were bound to be indecent.”

Ravenna glanced away.

Jane tilted her head closer to Audrey’s. “I was just telling her grace how you once helped me bring Grayson to heel.”

“Oh, yes. Do I recall showing you a sketch of a Congreve rocket and a discussion on how one must take care the male missile does not prematurely discharge?”

“Your memory is splendid,” Jane said. “As was your advice. I follow it to this day. Perhaps you could give my cousin a suggestion?”

“I am always willing to help your family,” Audrey said. “Which aspect of the art of love interests your grace?”

Ravenna could have clouted Jane with her sword. “I wouldn’t know where to start.” Nor was she inclined to discuss the details of lovemaking at a party.

“I suggest starting in the Garden of Eden,” Audrey said. “By which I mean a man and a woman in their natural state. You have studied your husband’s naked body?”

Dear heaven. Their hostess had just poked her head around the door. Had she caught wind of this risqué conversation? Ravenna averted her face, certain she was blushing to her ears. When she looked up again, the Duchess of Wenderfield had vanished. Who knew what the lady had overheard? She looked pointedly at Audrey.

“I -- what did you ask me?”

Audrey smiled with infinite understanding. “Another time, a more private place. But let me leave you with one hint. Think of the duke’s body as a map to a realm of unbound intimacies. You wouldn’t consider traveling to Cornwall without foreknowledge of the pleasures and pitfalls of that destination?”

“I wouldn’t dream of traveling to my desk without wearing any clothes,” Ravenna said. She hiked up her breeches. “However, and I appreciate your vast experience in all matters sensual, it is safe to say that since my wedding night I have gathered enough knowledge to wander around the garden of earthly delights without needing explicit guideposts.”

Audrey’s smile widened. “Good for you. But you must keep an eye on him, nevertheless. Not because I believe for a moment that he would be unfaithful. However, there are women who will chase him, courtesans and viscountesses, married or not. You are the envy and admiration of not only Society but of the demimonde.”

“Perhaps I ought to join him at the party,” Ravenna murmured. “So that Society is reminded he has a wife. He hasn’t even seen my costume.”

Audrey examined her approvingly. “That’s not a bad idea. You make a handsome young man, although at first glance or even third I doubt anyone will mistake you for a duchess.” She curtsied deeply. “I do hope we meet again, your grace. I should have known that you would not be a beautiful nincompoop.”