“It’s a little difficult for her to cuckold him with all of us here, Tolly,” Rosse said as he pulled himself out from under the bed. Sir Hugh exclaimed in surprise at the sight of him.
“A bit too crowded,” Charlotte agreed, pushing aside the bed curtains and smiling fetchingly. “Oh footman, you can come out as well.”
Sir Hugh stared with an open mouth as Jones emerged from behind the screen.
Rosse opened the wardrobe and faced the furious earl within.
“I’ll be thanking you all to stop shutting me in that bloody thing! There’s no air in there!”
“Quite,” Rosse said succinctly, and turned to speak with Gillian.
“Gillian!” Her name echoed down the hallway.
“Oh lord, that’s Noble,” she said, wringing her hands. “He doesn’t sound pleased, does he?”
“Gillian? Wife, where are you? Come out at once!”
Charlotte squeaked and ran back for the bed. The footman grinned and disappeared behind the screen but was immediately pushed out from behind it by Sir Hugh. He started toward the bed, but the earl beat it to him. “You can take the bloody Iron Maiden, I’ll go beneath the bed.”
Rosse and the footman looked at one another and around the room. Rosse was faster on his feet and made it to the area behind the love seat just ahead of the footman. Gillian stood by the wardrobe door as the footman, with a muttered oath, entered it.
She had just taken a step toward the door when Noble burst into the room.
“Hello, my love. Was that you I heard bellowing?”
Noble glanced quickly around the room and focused on the wardrobe. “Bloody hell, you’re hiding him?” he exclaimed as he strode into the room, straight for the massive piece of furniture. “Did we not just have a discussion about McGregor, madam?”
“No,” Gillian said as Noble threw open the wardrobe door and reaching in, pulled out the footman. He stared with a look of surprise at the short man who was dangling at the end of his fist. “We didn’t have a discussion, you had a discussion. I just listened.”
“Who the devil is this? And what is he doing hiding in Lady Gayfield’s wardrobe?”
“It’s her footman, Jones,” Gillian answered.
“Er…actually, he works for me,” Rosse said, pushing back the love seat and straightening up to his full height.
“Harry? What are you doing here? I thought we…ah…I thought you were to wait downstairs?”
“I felt it best to be on hand in case you decided to make good your threat to Carlisle,” Rosse replied. “Do you mind setting Jones down? I don’t think he can breathe with you holding his throat like that.”
“Oh…er…my apologies.” Noble set the man down and gave his rumpled livery a quick straightening. “So Carlisle isn’t here?”
“No, he’s here, somewhere,” Rosse said, adjusting his spectacles. “Let’s see, I believe that’s Tolly behind the screen.”
Sir Hugh stepped out with a red face. “Noble, I just came to warn your wife that you had heard the ghastly rumors about her and Carlisle—”
“That’s enough, Tolly. I’m sure Noble knows you were here to protect him.”
Sir Hugh nodded his head vehemently.
“And I believe Lady Weston’s cousin is in the bed…ah, yes, there she is.”
“Good evening, Lord Weston,” Charlotte said, simultaneously dropping him a curtsy and fluttering her eyelashes at the marquis.
“And, of course, that’s Carlisle poking out from under the bed.”
Noble, who had been watching with an expression of sheer and utter confusion as people emerged from all sorts of furniture, narrowed his eyes and growled when the earl hauled himself out from under the bed.
“It’s quite all right, old friend. Your wife has been amply chaperoned the entire time, as you can see.”
“All’s well that ends happily,” Charlotte said as she dimpled at Rosse.
“I would like to have a word with Carlisle alone,” Noble said in a gravelly voice.
Carlisle brushed himself off. “I don’t believe I care for the odds of this situation. We have an appointment to meet at dawn two days hence, Weston? Excellent. I shall arrange for seconds and see you then. Ladies, if you will excuse me.” Carlisle bowed and left the room.
Gillian, who had taken hold of her husband’s arm when Carlisle emerged from the bed, breathed a sigh of relief that quickly turned to one of worry when Noble, casting her a glance filled with portent, said, “If you would all excuse us, I believe my wife and I need to talk.”
“Certainly,” Charlotte said brightly, and instantly attached herself to the marquis. “Lord Rosse, would you escort me downstairs? I have no head for directions and am sure I would get lost without you to guide me.”
Rosse waved the footman out before him and did his duty with a minimum of eye rolling and just the merest grin to Noble.
“Weston, I feel compelled to plead Lady Weston’s case to you,” Sir Hugh said, fidgeting with his quizzing glass. “She is young and quite impressionable, and I’m sure she had no intention that news of her assignation be spread among everyone—”
“That’s enough, Tolly,” Noble growled and, removing Gillian from his arm, he marched over and held the door open. “Gillian does not need you to plead her case.”
“But Carlisle was here—”
“Good evening, Tolly,” Noble said in a tone that even Sir Hugh did not dare challenge. Gillian wished she could escape the room with him. She knew Noble would have several things to say to her about meeting with Carlisle, and none of them would be pleasant or reasonable.
“Go ahead, Noble. I’m braced. You may proceed.”
“I may, may I? And what do you expect me to proceed with, madam?” he asked, stalking toward her.
Gillian couldn’t help herself — she backed up as he continued toward her. “Why, your lecture to me about meeting with Lord Carlisle when you specifically forbade any such meeting,” she said, then gasped when she ran up against the wall.
“Ah, so you were paying attention,” Noble said, his gray eyes dark with emotion. Her Lord of Lectures stood toe-to-toe with her, then placed a hand on either side of the wall next to her head and leaned in until their noses were almost touching. “I was beginning to wonder if indeed you pay attention when I speak to you.”
“Oh, my, yes,” Gillian said breathlessly, affected by his nearness despite his irritation with her. She breathed in deeply, reveling in his scent. “Almost all of the time.”
“ ‘Almost all of the time’?” Noble growled, brushing her lips carelessly with his. Gillian’s heart raced. What was he doing? Was he not going to yell at her? Or was this some new punishment? A groan slipped past her lips as Noble leaned his hard body against hers, pushing her back against the wall. Oh, God, if it was a punishment, she’d be sure to encourage it every day!
“What?” she asked, unable to keep from licking the corners of his mouth.
“Hmm?”
“Nothing. Oh, Noble! Do you think you ought to? Here? Now? Oh, my, yes!”
“Yes,” Noble agreed, and with one hand holding her head where he wanted it, he plundered her sweet, honeyed mouth.
“Are you sure, my dear?” Lord Gayfield, a pleasant, round-faced young man asked his wife as they came up the last of the stairs. “In your bedchamber?”
“Yes, yes, it’s all anyone can speak of. Lord Carlisle and Lady Weston were to meet in my bedchamber, and Lord Weston has just left the card room to catch them in the act. Surely there will be a duel out of this, which is just what we need to put the right cachet to our parties.” Lady Gayfield, almost beside herself with joy, paused for a moment and waved at fifteen or so of her closest friends, following her up the stairs. “We couldn’t ask for anything better, Charles! It’s almost as if Lady Weston had heard my thoughts and was doing this just to please me.”