In Simon’s admittedly biased view there was only one honorable answer to his dilemma. It wasn’t the appropriate time for a tell-all. None of the parties involved in the outcome looked in any mood to listen to his explanation, which he had no intention of delivering in a public forum.

A rough voice growled in his face. “What are you doing with my sister?”

“Control, Boscastle,” he said below his breath.

“Control, my arse.”

It was disconcerting, to say the least, to have moments ago come to the rescue of a desirable woman only to confront her hostile male counterpart. Rhys and Ravenna might not be identical. They looked alike enough, however, that even a casual observer would recognize their relationship. Thankfully, though, Ravenna did not boast her brother’s square jaw and broad physique.

There was no softness in Rhys’ face whatsoever. No suggestion of his friendship with Simon and bond of boyhood camaraderie. “Well, answer me,” Rhys said in a clipped voice. “What have you done, Rochecliffe?”

“Your sister is fine,” he said carefully. “Shall we discuss this inside the house?”

Silence greeted his suggestion. A well-dressed blond gentleman had sliced through the crowd. His natural insouciance identified him at once as the party’s host and once-renowned scoundrel.

When Grayson Boscastle, the fifth Marquess of Sedgecroft, stepped onstage, he was guaranteed the complete attention of his audience.

“Good evening, Rochecliffe,” he said with his usual geniality. “Ravenna.”

“What do you make of this, my lord?” another gentleman asked the marquess from the edge of the crowd.

Grayson looked down his aquiline nose. “I don’t make anything of it at all. Nothing is ever as it appears. Do let us return to the ball. I detect a shower in the air. Rain is ruinous to fine clothes.”

Simon glanced up involuntarily. Was there a cloud in the sky? There was if the marquess decreed so. In fact, if Simon listened closely he could hear rain plopping on the leaves. Few men were bold enough to gainsay the gregarious marquess, no matter what evidence said to the contrary.

Grayson’s sang-froid was so reassuring that Simon could have forgotten someone had just taken a shot at him. Of course only he and Ravenna knew otherwise.

Just as he knew the evening’s true entertainment had not even begun. Enrapt spectators observed their every twitch. Had it been otherwise he might have asked her again for that kiss. Never had a woman’s mouth invited him more. And never had opportunity presented itself at such an inopportune moment. He needed to refine the plan that was forming in his mind. One that included a lot of kissing.

Jane, the Marchionness of Sedgecroft, had arrived on the scene with a small contingent of servants. It was obvious she had been called in to reinforce her husband. She cast Simon and Ravenna a mistrustful look and then concentrated her efforts on coaxing the lingering curious to return to the ballroom.

“Grayson has outdone himself with this affair,” she chattered, dragging two guests away by the arm. “The Tapestry Room is open for public viewing. We have recently acquired some priceless Flemish pieces. Seats are being filled at this moment for a splendid play with the original Drury Lane cast. And, keep it a secret, dear ones, but I’ve planned a breakfast surprise to end all surprises. It will occur at approximately -- well, whenever breakfast is.”

Grayson elevated his brow. “Do we have to wait until breakfast for this wondrous event?”

“Darling,” she said with a blithe smile. “It’s such a marvelous surprise I don’t dare speak of it lest I spoil the suspense. I shall only say it will be a dream come true.”

“For me?” he asked softly. “Rowan and little Belinda have been known to sleep past breakfast.”

Husband and wife shared a potent look that even Simon in his flummoxed state could not misinterpret. He knew that Rowan and Belinda were the couple’s beloved children. He also knew who and what his dream-come-true would be. He had dreamt of Ravenna. Often and in graphic, aching detail. He’d often envisioned them together and, well, not like this. Indeed, he’d held her delectable body only once before tonight.

At last, with no evident controversy to enjoy, the gathering dispersed. Jane sent off her guests with more promises of entertainment to fulfill than Scheherazade. Yet she looked entirely unruffled as she squeezed between Rhys and Simon to attach herself to Ravenna. “I will escort her back to the house and do my part. Gentleman, I leave you to settle this imbroglio with as much good sense as you can manage.”

With that she swept Ravenna away as if wingborne.

Neither lady glanced back at Simon. He wanted to follow to reassure himself that Ravenna had recovered. His immediate priority, however, was to search the gardens for any personal articles his assailant might have dropped during his flight.

Instead, he discovered himself the subject of Grayson’s unwavering scrutiny. The role of host had been discarded as that of guardian to his unruly family emerged. Simon was no coward. He hadn’t thought twice about taking a bullet for Ravenna.

This challenge required deeper consideration.

“There will be consequences,” Grayson said in a strained voice.

“I accept that,” he said. “But believe me when I state that what happened was beyond my control. There are other forces at play. All is not what it seems, as you and Heath have both remarked tonight.”

Rhys broke in. “I insist on being included in this conversation.”

“Without question,” Grayson said before he turned back tersely to Simon. “There comes the day when every gentleman realizes he has to pay a price for his impulses. And passions.”

Simon doubted Grayson had any idea what had occurred, and whether passion had played a part. Perhaps it had. The baying of dogs from the other side of the garden granted him another chance to deflect. He couldn’t admit his deep regard for Ravenna to a chorus of howls.

Torchlight blazed from the now-deserted Temple of Aphrodite. The flare illuminated the tall, lithe figure of Heath Boscastle as he strode across the lawn.

He stopped in front of Simon.

Simon braced himself for an interrogation that would test his mettle. “The dogs have traced the scent to the wall,” Heath said. “Does anyone know why Achilles has lost part of his shield?”

Simon cringed at the horror that struck Grayson’s face. “My statue has been damaged? How in the blazes did that happen?”

Heath hesitated before he answered his older brother. “It appears that he was shot,” he said. “I thought the noise was what brought you outside. A few of the guests heard not only a scream but a gun go off.”

By the curtness of his speech, Simon deducted that Heath had been one of those guests. He raised his hands in surrender.

“Who shoots an ancient shield during a tryst?” Grayson demanded, glowering in accusation at Simon. “I assume it was not an ardent admirer.”

“No,” Simon said grimly.

“A rival?” Grayson guessed.

“Hold on,” Heath said. “Others may have cause to hate him.”

Grayson studied Simon from the side of his eye. “Why?”

“He has made friends and enemies in high places,” Heath said. “For one thing he sponsored Sir Michael Talbot’s passage of his bill against cruel discipline in the navy. He funded an orphanage in a town populated by wealthy residents who did not wish to be reminded of poverty. He has angered more than a few gentlemen with his bluntness.”

“Men insult one another daily,” Grayson said with a cynical shrug.

“He also freely admitted to being a Queenite,” Heath added.

Simon laughed.

“What is that?” Grayson asked.

Heath sighed. “He took the side of the degraded Queen Caroline during her trial for adultery. The king invented the charge in an attempt to strip her of her crown.”

“I supported the queen,” Grayson said. “That was a popular aristocratic cause.”

“It was popular with the press and the populace, but not with the old guard,” Heath said. “The humiliated queen was not even allowed a peaceful funeral. There were protests and killings even before she was laid to rest. I recall, Grayson, you spoke up vociferously on her behalf.”

“I shall tell you what I know once we are inside,” Simon assured them. “Until then there is no need to throw another bone in the scandal broth.”