Niall sat in the taproom at the Star and Garter, staring down at his cards. They were excellent. But so far, Sir Oswald hadn’t impressed him with an ability to take advantage of good cards. No wonder the fellow lost money routinely.

The question was, did he use counterfeits to make up for that?

“Sir Oswald?” Mr. Raines asked. “What’s your bid?”

“Leave me alone. I’m thinking.”

Which, from what Niall could tell, the man didn’t do terribly often.

Sir Kenneth leaned back in his chair. “Margrave, could you please get your partner to move this along?”

“Why?” Niall countered. “Have you somewhere else to be?”

Pip had met him earlier to say that Sir Kenneth was Captain Joseph Whiting’s second cousin. Which had made Niall automatically dislike the baronet.

“You tell him, Margrave,” Sir Oswald said. “Some of us like to take our time when playing cards.”

Niall resisted the impulse to point out that having plenty of time didn’t seem to help Sir Oswald’s bids one whit. But it did make Niall wonder how the man could be the mastermind of a counterfeiting operation. He wasn’t the brightest star in the sky, to be sure.

At last Sir Oswald bid, and the rest of the table was able to do so as well. Niall only hoped his partner’s bid was based on the cards and not wishful thinking. So far, they hadn’t done very well against Raines and Sir Kenneth.

Sir Oswald was an indifferent player, heedless and impulsive. Sometimes he shone. Other times he sank like a lead weight, taking his partner with him. Thank God Niall wasn’t as poor as he was pretending, or he’d be destitute after his stint with Sir Oswald.

Meanwhile, Raines had shown himself to be a thoughtful and careful player. Indeed, he seemed to lack the kind of reckless character Niall would have considered necessary for a counterfeiter. Then again, a clever man would hide his true character if it were devious, and Raines did seem to have a brain.

The gentleman he couldn’t make out was Sir Kenneth. The baronet’s playing was all over the place . . . as was his character. The man was enigmatic, to say the least.

“So,” Niall said, deciding he couldn’t lose anything by being blunt, “I understand you’re related to Captain Joseph Whiting.”

Sir Kenneth blinked. “I am, indeed. How did you—” His eyes narrowed. “Ah, right. I forgot. You fought my late cousin in a duel years ago.”

Niall nodded, wondering what Sir Kenneth would say to that.

“Why did you duel?” the man asked.

“Don’t you know?” Niall countered.

Sir Kenneth shrugged. “I heard it was over some paramour the two of you had shared.”

Niall stifled a groan. Had everyone in England heard that nasty gossip?

“But honestly,” Sir Kenneth went on, “you could have fought for any number of reasons. Joseph was an arse. I nearly called him out myself once.”

That took Niall by surprise. “Did you?”

“The man insulted the oldest of my sisters, for God’s sake. He tried to kiss her in our conservatory.” Sir Kenneth rearranged his cards. “She complained to Mother, who banned him from the house.”

“Good for her,” Niall said, then tensed. He didn’t want Sir Kenneth making any sort of connection between his sister and Clarissa.

But Sir Kenneth was oblivious. “That man was incapable of keeping his prick in his trousers.”

To say the least.

“Some men are like that,” Raines said. “And the ones who aren’t assume that other men are all like that.”

And some women assume the same.

No, that wasn’t fair. Given the gossip, was it any wonder that Bree believed that Niall had betrayed her? He had fought a duel over a woman. Just not the kind of woman she’d been told.

Sir Kenneth scowled. “But my sister was only fifteen at the time. What was the man thinking?” He arranged his cards. “Good God, who wants to dally with a schoolgirl, anyway? I personally prefer a woman with more experience. A Cyprian, a bored wife, a merry widow.” He flashed his partner a conspiratorial look. “And I’m not the only one with such a preference, am I, Raines?”

Raines tensed up. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Right,” Sir Kenneth said with a sly smile. “So it’s just me, then.”

“Are we going to play or not?” Sir Oswald broke in. “It’s your lead, Sir Kenneth.”

“Of course.” The baronet laid down his card, and the game was on.

As they went around the table, Niall turned to Raines. “How long have you been coming here?”

“Two years or more,” Raines said. “I enjoy the game. It takes my mind off my . . . troubles.”

Niall couldn’t help wondering what those troubles might be. “I confess I have a weakness for card games,” he said, to establish his pretend character. “I can’t seem to stay away.”

“Exactly!” Sir Oswald cried. “They’re quite entertaining. And they can be lucrative.”

Sir Kenneth took the trick. “Only when one wins. I don’t care for losing, myself.”

Hmm. Perhaps Sir Kenneth was willing to win at any cost. And the sort who’d cheat would also be the sort who’d pay his debts with counterfeit money.

Niall would have to keep an eye on the baronet’s playing. “I understand that you only recently came to town, Sir Kenneth. What brought you here in summer, other than this latest, uncharacteristic sitting of Parliament?”

Sir Kenneth shrugged. “My youngest sister’s debut will be next season, so I figured I’d take my seat and also squire her and my mother around while they shopped for her coming-out.”

“That sounds costly,” Niall said.

“It is, though I don’t mind. She’s the last of three to need a husband, so I’ll spare no expense to make sure she finds one. It won’t take much, I daresay. She’s the sort of girl every man wants for a wife.”

“Oh?” Niall asked. “What sort is that?”

“Pretty. Eager to please. Malleable.”

Odd, but that didn’t sound as appealing to Niall as it once had. Now that he’d been dealing with a more prickly sort of female, he realized he liked the challenge of a woman with her own opinions.

“So,” Niall said, “are you in the market for that kind of wife yourself?”

“I’m not in the market for any kind of wife at the moment—at least not until I get my sister settled.” Sir Kenneth grinned. “Although if I had your situation, I might be.”

Niall tensed. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you have the best of both worlds. A pretty young woman who’s also an experienced widow with a fortune. Cream of the crop, as far as I’m concerned.” He smirked at Niall over his cards. “First time I saw Mrs. Trevor, I thought about throwing my hat into that ring myself. Then you beat me to it. If I were you, I’d guard that woman jealously. There’s a line of bachelors stretching from here to Almack’s just waiting to have a go at your little filly if you should choose to discard her.”

Only with an effort did Niall resist the impulse to tell the man to rein in his comments about the “little filly”—that she was now off-limits to any other bachelor. Instead he forced himself to focus on what Sir Kenneth’s comment said about his character.

And how curious that the man would speak of her that way in front of her father. Did Sir Kenneth have some idea of marrying her so he could feed Sir Oswald more counterfeits?

“Watch your tongue,” Sir Oswald snapped. “That’s my daughter you’re talking about in such a rude manner.”

“You have a daughter?” Sir Kenneth said, clearly shocked.

Ah, that was why the fellow hadn’t governed his tongue. Which also meant that the baronet wasn’t angling for a closer connection to Sir Oswald. It didn’t stop him from being a counterfeiter, but it gave him one less reason to be so.

Sir Oswald slapped down a card. “I told you when I introduced his lordship that I invited him to join us because he’s going to be my son-in-law.”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t paying attention,” Sir Kenneth said. “I was trying to catch the taproom maid’s eye.”

That only slightly mollified Sir Oswald. “Well, you can be sure that my daughter is too good for the likes of you, sir.”

The vehemence in Sir Oswald’s voice took Niall by surprise. Perhaps the man wasn’t as heedless of Bree’s welfare as it seemed.

“Forgive me, Sir Oswald,” Sir Kenneth said in a tone that showed he was clearly unrepentant. “To be honest, I thought you were childless. You never mention your daughter or even your wife.”

“My late wife.” Sir Oswald hunched over his cards. “And a man don’t have to go on and on about his family all the time, you know. It don’t mean anything.”

After that, Sir Oswald was cranky, Sir Kenneth was embarrassed, and Raines was concentrating on his cards, so Niall had trouble turning the conversation back toward anything that might give him an idea of who the counterfeiter might be.

But he did surreptitiously mark with tiny creases or tears the banknotes used for wagering, so he’d know who’d used what to pay. Then he set about trying to win—no small feat with Sir Oswald as a partner—so he’d be able to scrutinize the banknotes later.

About halfway through the evening, their luck turned, thank God, and Sir Oswald apparently paid closer attention to his cards, as if determined to impress Niall. Which made sense, given that the man had just practically admitted to never speaking of his own daughter to his friends.

Some hours later, Niall and Sir Oswald were doing so well that they already had the pot of two hundred pounds in the bag. And since his friends had agreed that this was to be the final game, Niall and his partner were going to be leaving with money in their pockets.

“Well, well,” Sir Oswald crowed as Niall took the final trick. “I should have you for my partner from now on, Margrave. You’ve clearly got the devil’s own luck.”

“To be fair, Sir Oswald,” Sir Kenneth drawled, “there was some skill in the man’s playing.”

“All the better,” the old man said. “A skillful player and a lucky one.” He leaned toward Niall. “Promise me you’ll partner me again tomorrow night, sir. Pitford will play with Whiting anyway.”

“What about me and Dunsleigh?” The question came from Raines. “You’re choosing Margrave over one of us?”

Sir Oswald shrugged. “Pitford has been choosing his cousin over me. Seems only fair that you two sit out and give me and my future son-in-law a chance. Eh, Margrave?”

“I wouldn’t wish to intrude,” he lied.

“Ignore Raines,” Sir Oswald said. “It’s no intrusion. If he don’t want to sit the game out, then he can play with Sir Kenneth again, and the other two can watch. Serves them right for abandoning us tonight.”

Raines looked irritated. “Fine, old man, Margrave may join us again if you prefer. It’s better than listening to you grouse about not winning.”

This whole conversation grew more interesting by the moment. Was Raines simply annoyed to be pushed out by Niall, or annoyed to lose his chance at passing off some counterfeits?

Niall wouldn’t know for sure until he could get a good look at their winnings. Despite the paltry sum, the pot contained a variety of notes for Niall to examine later. It included some of everyone’s money, along with at least one fifty-pound note and several twenty-pound notes.

Unfortunately, Niall had to split the winnings with Sir Oswald, but he’d come prepared for that. With a little sleight of hand, he was able to switch out notes he knew were genuine for the ones they’d won in the card game, before giving Sir Oswald his winnings.

Niall watched all the gentlemen to see if they noticed, but none seemed to, not even Sir Oswald, who shoved the genuine notes into his purse without looking at them. That made Niall wonder even more if the man had realized he’d been using counterfeit currency all this time.

On the other hand, there might not be any counterfeits among the currency at all. In which case, Niall would be no closer to the truth than before.

But he wouldn’t mind it if this investigation took a while. The longer it lasted, the longer he got to court Bree, and he needed all the time he could get.

If she would even let him court her. Because right now she didn’t seem that keen on it.

That worried him. Most women would jump at the chance to be courted by an earl.

But Bree had always been her own person. So perhaps he’d assumed too much about her feelings yet again. Perhaps her marriage, flawed as it had been, had still made her too cautious to wed.

It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t let it. Somehow he must change her mind, make her see that theirs would be a good match. Because he was beginning to think that the only match he wanted was with Bree.

The next morning, Niall headed for his brother-in-law’s, praying that Edwin had risen early as usual. Having tossed and turned half the night remembering his argument with Bree, Niall was determined to find out how the couple felt about his revealing the truth about Clarissa’s past.

But the moment he entered the Blakeborough town house he was informed that Clarissa and Edwin were both gone.

“Gone!” Niall said. “Gone where? Why?”

The footman colored and mumbled something about fetching Clarissa’s lady’s maid, then hurried off.

When the maid appeared, her morning cap was askew and her apron streaked with dust. “Forgive me for looking so disheveled, my lord, but I’m in a rush to pack for her ladyship. It’s all very sudden, I’m afraid.”

That didn’t sound good. “What has happened?” he asked, his gut knotting.

“Yesterday her ladyship had a bit of a scare concerning the babe, and Dr. Worth insisted that she be taken to the country, away from the upsets of town. So the mistress and master left for Stoke Towers at dawn this morning.”

Niall’s heart sank at the idea of Clarissa having complications this early in her pregnancy. She was only six months along, for God’s sake! “Is she all right?”

“The doctor says she will be. It was only a little blood, but still . . .”

“Blood!” Damnation. “Is there any chance she may . . . lose the child?”

“The doctor says no, sir, but his lordship doesn’t want to take any chances and neither does she.”

Niall could well understand that. Clarissa and Edwin had been so thrilled about the child’s approaching birth that Mother had taken to complaining that all they ever talked about was the baby.

God only knew what they’d do if Clarissa lost the baby. The very thought of that sent his stomach roiling.

“Is Dr. Worth attending her in Hertfordshire?” he asked.

“He says there’s no need,” the maid said. “He has explained to me and his lordship what must be done. And he promised to drive out to Stoke Towers whenever summoned. In the meantime, he means to visit her once a week, more often if necessary, though he says he feels certain it won’t be necessary.”

That relieved Niall enormously. If the doctor didn’t think the situation dire, then perhaps it was simply one of those freakish things that happened to women while they were breeding.

Still, this newest development didn’t help his situation. There was no way in hell he dared speak to Clarissa of the rape now. Though perhaps he could talk to Edwin about it. Edwin might be able to say whether Clarissa would care if Niall revealed the truth to Bree. In strictest confidence, of course.

“My lord?” the maid said, dragging him from his thoughts. “Do you wish to send a message with me? I hope to be following the master and mistress shortly in the second carriage.”

It was a none-too-subtle attempt to point out that she had things to do, and he needed to leave her to them. “Do you think his lordship would mind if I rode out there to speak with him? I should like to find out more details about her condition, for my own peace of mind.”

“I’m sure that would be fine, though I doubt he will let you see her ladyship.” She flashed him a rueful glance. “His lordship would wrap the mistress up in cotton until the day of the birth if he could.”

“Yes, he is nothing if not overprotective. And under the circumstances, I wouldn’t expect him to let me see her anyway. But thank you for telling me what you know. I’m relieved to hear my sister is in such good hands.”

With a bob of her head, the maid started to walk away. Then she paused. “If you would keep this under your hat, I’m sure his lordship would much appreciate it. He doesn’t want a slew of concerned friends running out to the estate to attempt seeing his wife.”

“Of course.”

“And . . . er . . . if you could delay telling Lady Margrave for a while, that would be good, too. Your mother . . . can be . . . well . . .”

“Difficult. Trust me, I know.” Niall smiled. “I’ll put off mentioning it to her as long as I can.”

It wouldn’t be that hard. Yesterday Mother had spent her time paying calls on her many friends to wax poetic about the upcoming wedding of her son to a rich widow. It would take her a good week more to tire of that enterprise, and by then, perhaps Clarissa would be feeling well enough for visitors. He could only hope.

Niall left with his head in a muddle. He’d intended to call on Bree this morning, but he also wanted to head out to Stoke Towers as soon as possible. And since he couldn’t explain to her why . . .

A thought occurred to him. He’d promised to help Bree learn how to manage her estate. And his own manager had sent him a note only this morning asking when he’d be coming to Margrave Manor, since they needed to discuss a few items of business.

Why not invite Bree to the estate for the day? They could make an outing of it, chaperoned by her aunt, and even bring the lad, if she wished. Then, at some point, he could slip away to speak to Edwin at the adjoining estate, and return before she even knew he was gone.

Of course, all of this was assuming that Bree had made up her mind to let him keep courting her. God, he hoped she had. Because the urge to see her, kiss her, touch her, was suddenly overpowering.

He glanced at his pocket watch. Nine o’clock. It was a trifle early to pay calls, especially if Bree and her aunt had gone to the ball last night, but neither of them struck him as the sort to lie abed half the day. And he wanted to leave for the country at once.

With that decided, he headed straight for Lady Pensworth’s town house. But before he could knock, he heard a child’s laughter coming from the Bedford Square garden across the street.

Turning to look, he spotted Bree sitting on a bench with Silas gamboling nearby, accompanied by the nurse. Perfect. Now he needn’t deal with the aunt at all until he got Bree’s approval.

He strolled over and paused at the gate to watch the domestic scene, his heart flipping over in his chest. She was so good with the boy, and the lad clearly adored her. What a mother she would make to their own children. And God, how he wanted to see Bree’s belly heavy with his child, the first of many.

He began to understand a little of his brother-in-law’s overprotectiveness. Because if it had been Bree instead of Clarissa having difficulties with her pregnancy . . .

No, he wouldn’t think of that. Bree had already had one child with no trouble; he didn’t see why she couldn’t have another. And Clarissa would be fine, too. The maid had as much as said so.

“Silas!” Bree called out. “Stop pulling up the verbena. They’re for everyone to enjoy.”

“That’s his favorite color,” the nurse said. “You should paint him holding some, mistress. The purple would make a pretty picture.”

“It would,” Bree said. “But I’m not doing watercolors just now. I’m working on another Wedgwood, now that they’ve shown some interest in my designs.”

“You heard from them?” the nurse asked.

Bree nodded. “Just this morning. They said they’d like to see more, and they gave me some ideas of what they’re looking for.”

“Congratulations, mistress!”

“Oh, they haven’t accepted them yet, but the letter was encouraging.”

He sucked in a breath as a long-forgotten memory of finding Bree sketching a classical statue of Aphrodite in a park rose to his mind. Years ago, she’d dreamed of designing for the famous pottery. Apparently that dream had never died.

Slipping through the gate, he came up behind her to look over her shoulder at her sketchbook. More than ever, he was humbled by her talent. She had a knack for black-and-white images. He could easily imagine her sketch of Cupid appearing on a Wedgwood vase.

The nurse glanced up and gave a start to see him there, but young Silas broke into a grin and toddled toward him.

Niall pressed a finger to his lips, then leaned over Bree’s shoulder. “Silas makes an excellent Cupid.”

She jumped, then turned to lift an eyebrow at him. “You, sir, are very sneaky.”

“Yes, well, you knew that about me already.”

He tipped his head in the direction of the secluded area where they’d made love the evening before, and she rolled her eyes before returning to her sketching.

“Why have you come here so early?” she asked.

“To watch you draw.”

She snorted. “Somehow I doubt that.”

He laughed. “Actually, I’m here to invite you to join me for an outing.”

Her hand paused mid-stroke. “What sort of outing?”

“A jaunt to Margrave Manor. I have urgent business there, and I did promise to give you lessons in running an estate.”

Her expression softened markedly. “Nurse,” she said to the servant, “why don’t you take Silas over to the fountain and let him throw some pennies in it for good luck?”

“Yes, mistress. He do love throwing pennies, our lad.”

Once they were well away, Bree asked, “What about Papa and your mission?”

Niall took a seat beside Bree and laid his arm across the back of the bench. “We will have to return by evening, since I agreed to play cards with him and his friends again tonight.” He ran a finger down the back of her neck. “But before then, I want some time alone with you.”

“Stop that,” she murmured, though she didn’t move away. “Did you learn anything about the counterfeiting last night?”

“Not so far. Your father and I won, but none of the notes were fakes. I went through them carefully, then sent them off to Fulkham to be sure. I doubt he’ll find anything. Giving counterfeits to tradesmen is one thing; distributing them among one’s friends is quite another. Besides, the card games may not be how your father is passing the notes on. If he’s even the one passing them on.”

“You think he’s innocent?”

“I damned well hope so, for the sake of you and Silas.” When her face clouded over, he changed the subject. “Anyway, I have the whole day ahead of me to spend with my fiancée. And I thought we’d use it productively at Margrave Manor.”

A sigh escaped her. “You know I can’t run off to your estate unchaperoned.”

“Which is why I intend to include your aunt in the invitation. And young Silas, too, if you wish.” He bent close to add in a whisper, “I figure that the lad will keep Lady Pensworth occupied, so I can keep you occupied. If you know what I mean.”

She eyed him askance. “You’re a very wicked fellow, Lord Margrave.”

“Not as wicked as I hope to be once we reach my estate.”

He was rewarded for that rakish comment when she colored prettily. Her blushes never ceased to rouse him. She knew just how to make a man yearn. And he was yearning something fierce for her just now. “Say you’ll go, Bree.”

“Not if you’re planning to be wicked. You promised to behave.” She tapped his hand with her pencil. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to stick to your promise. But I warn you—I will hold firm in my determination not to give in to any attempt at wickedness on your part.”

“Shall we place a wager on that?” he said with a grin.

“I never gamble.”

“Then you lead a very dull life.”

Her gaze turned earnest. “I do indeed. And I like my dull life.”

“Do you? Is that why you blush so whenever I threaten wickedness?”

She swallowed. “I just happen to blush easily.”

Even the motion of her throat captivated him. “I never saw you blush with anyone else.”

“That’s because you haven’t been around to see me with anyone else,” she said tartly. “Our first courtship was secret, while our second—”

“So there will be a second courtship, then.”

She sniffed. “You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say that our second courtship is pretend.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Niall, there are still things you aren’t considering.”

The doom and gloom in her voice got his back up. “Like what?”

“Like Papa, for example. What if he’s guilty?”

“What if he is? I don’t give a damn what happens to him after what he did. Do you?”

“No, but I don’t think you’ve considered how it will affect you if he’s guilty. There will be a trial and gossip in the press, and you’ll be part of that. So if you marry me you’ll have to give a damn. As a widow with little at stake, I can weather the scandal simply by retiring to the country and living a quiet life. But that’s impossible for you. An earl must move in society.”

“An earl can do pretty much as he pleases,” he countered. “Besides, my name is already tarred with scandal because of the duel. One more is hardly going to hurt me.”

“That was a duel of honor, which isn’t held in contempt in your circles. But counterfeiting?” When he let out a coarse oath, she added more gently, “You have family you’re not going to want to see suffer if Papa is convicted. And as long as you’re connected to me, they will. Delia can distance herself from her former sister-in-law to a certain extent, but Clarissa cannot distance herself from her brother. Only imagine what effect the gossip would have on her.”

“Trust me, that isn’t the sort of gossip that would faze my sister.” He searched her face. “Or is this another excuse for why we shouldn’t marry?”

“I’m just saying—”

“You told me you’d give me your answer soon.” He rose from the bench to stare down at her. “So is it yea or nay? Because I’m in no mood to continue this dance without knowing where it’s heading.”

“I need more time to consider everything—Papa and Silas and all of it.”

He suppressed a curse. “I’ve waited seven years for this,” he said irritably. “I’m not inclined to wait seven more.”

Heading for the gate, he fought to tamp down his temper. Enough of this. If she thought to drag him about by a leading string, she would be sorely disappointed. He wanted her, but not at the cost of his dignity.

“Wait, Niall!” she cried out behind him.

He halted, then turned to glare at her.

Her expression fraught with uncertainty, she stood up. “If you wish, I shall talk to my aunt about your invitation to an outing, perhaps sometime later in the week—”

“I have to go to Margrave Manor today, Bree. Now, if possible.”

She blinked.

“I told you,” he went on, “my business there is urgent. Will you go with me or not? Because you and I both know that your aunt will do whatever you wish.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “So it’s time for you to decide. What exactly is it that you wish?”