Gideon gave his mother a mocking glance. "And that is the end of all polite social discourse this evening unless you forcibly intervene, madam. Once my wife is launched on the subject of fossils, she is very difficult to deflect."

Lady Hardcastle took the hint. "I believe the study of fossils can wait until tomorrow," she said firmly.

Harriet tried to conceal her disappointment. "Of course, madam."

"It will take Hawkins and the housekeeper a good while to find the crates in which his lordship's old finds are stored," Lady Hardcastle added consolingly. "One cannot ask them to begin the search at this hour of the night."

"No, I suppose not," Harriet admitted. But privately she really saw no good reason at all why the staff could not be sent off to search for Hardcastle's crates of fossils. After all, it was not that late.

"Now, then, you must tell us all about the Season, Harriet," Lady Hardcastle said coaxingly. "I have not been to London for the Season in years. Not since—" She broke off quickly. "Well, it has been some time."

Harriet attempted to summon up polite conversation. It was difficult because she would have much preferred to have talked to the earl about fossils. "The Season is very exciting, I suppose. If one enjoys that sort of thing. My sister is enjoying herself immensely. She wants to do it all again next year."

"But you do not find it amusing?" Lady Hardcastle asked.

"No." Harriet brightened. "Except for the waltz. I do enjoy dancing the waltz with St. Justin."

Gideon raised his wineglass in a silent salute. He smiled at her across the table. "The feeling is mutual, madam."

Harriet was pleased by his gallantry. "Thank you, sir." She turned back to Lady Hardcastle. "The best part about London, madam, is that I have joined the Fossils and Antiquities Society."

Hardcastle spoke up from the far end of the table. "I used to be a member. Haven't attended a meeting in years, of course."

Harriet turned back to him eagerly. "It is quite a large group now, and there are several very knowledgeable people attending meetings. Unfortunately, I have not made the acquaintance of anyone who knows a great deal about teeth."

"There she goes again," Gideon warned his mother. "You had better stop her quickly unless you want the conversation to revert to fossils."

Harriet blushed. "I beg your pardon, madam. I am frequently told I am too enthusiastic about the subject."

"Do not concern yourself," Lady Hardcastle said graciously. She glanced at her husband. "I recall when his lordship was equally enthusiastic. It has been some time since I have heard him talk about fossils. Nevertheless, it does limit the conversation somewhat. Can you tell us anything else of interest about London?"

Harriet considered that carefully. "Actually, no," she finally admitted. "To be perfectly truthful, I much prefer country life. I cannot wait to get back to Upper Biddleton so that I can go to work in my cave."

Gideon gave her an indulgent look. "As you can see, I have married the perfect wife for a man who prefers to devote himself to his family's lands."

"It will be a great pleasure to travel about with Gideon while he supervises the Hardcastle estates," Harriet said with satisfaction. "I shall be able to explore all sorts of new terrain for fossils."

"It is a relief to know I have something of value to offer you in this marriage," Gideon said. "For a while I was beginning to wonder if you were going to get anything at all useful out of our relationship. I am well aware that a few trifles such as an old title and several profitable estates are not terribly important to a fossil collector such as yourself."

The earl and countess of Hardcastle stared at their son in amazement.

Harriet wrinkled her nose. "You see what I mean?" she said in an aside to Lady Hardcastle. "He cannot resist deliberately provoking others on occasion. It has become a habit with him."

When the meal was finally finished, Gideon sat back in his chair and watched, amused, as his mother prompted Harriet to leave the table and accompany her to the drawing room.

"Shall we leave the gentlemen to their port?" Lady Hardcastle murmured.

"I do not mind if they drink it in front of us," Harriet said blithely.

Gideon grinned. "You obviously did not get enough of a Town polish to realize that my mother is trying to give you a gentle hint. You are supposed to leave the table now so that the gentlemen can drink themselves into a drunken stupor in private."

Harriet scowled. "I trust you are not in the habit of drinking too heavily, my lord. My father never approved of drunkards, and neither do I."

"I shall endeavor to keep my wits about me so that I may perform my duties as a husband tonight, my dear. This is, after all, our wedding night, if you will recall."

Across the table Harriet registered the unsubtle meaning behind the remark and turned a delightful shade of pink. Gideon's mother, however, was not the least bit delighted.

"Gideon. What a perfectly outrageous thing to say." Lady Hardcastle glared furiously at him. "This is a polite household and you will behave yourself. One does not talk about such things at the dinner table. You know that perfectly well. Your manners have disintegrated completely during the past six years."

"Damn right," Hardcastle muttered. "You're embarrassing the chit. Apologize to your wife."

Harriet grinned cheekily at Gideon. "Yes, St. Justin, please do so at once. I do not believe I have ever heard you apologize. I cannot wait to hear this."

Gideon rose to his feet and gave her a courtly bow. His eyes glinted. "My apologies, madam. I did not mean to offend your delicate sensibilities."

"Very pretty." Harriet turned to his parents. "Was that not nicely done? I have great hopes that he can eventually be taught to move in Society without causing undue chaos."

Gideon's mother stood up abruptly, mouth set in stern lines. "I believe Harriet and I will withdraw to the drawing room."

Harriet rose gracefully. "Yes, we had best be on our way before St. Justin says anything else outrageous. Behave yourself while I am gone, my lord."

"I will do my best," Gideon said.

He watched as his mother led Harriet out of the dining room. When the door closed behind them, he sat down again.

A deep silence descended on the room. Hawkins stepped forward with the port and poured a glass for Gideon and his father. Then the butler departed.

The silence lengthened between the two men. Gideon made no move to break it. It was the first time he and his father had been alone together in a long while. If Hardcastle wished to speak to him, Gideon decided, he could damn well make the effort.

"She's interesting," the earl said at last. "I'll grant you that. Not at all in the usual style."

"No. She's not. It is one of her most attractive features."

Another silence filled the room.

"Not quite what I would have expected," Hardcastle said.

"After Deirdre, you mean?" Gideon tasted the rich port and studied the elegantly chased silver candlesticks in front of him. "I am six years older now, sir. And for all my faults, I rarely make the same mistake twice."

Hardcastle grunted. "You mean this time you had the decency to do the right thing?"

Gideon's hand tightened around the stem of his glass. "No, sir. I mean that this time I found a woman I could trust."

The silence swept back into the dining room.

"Your lady certainly seems to trust you," Hardcastle muttered.

"Yes. It is a very enjoyable experience. It has been a long while since anyone has trusted me."

"Well, what the devil did you expect after that business with Deirdre?" Hardcastle snapped.

"Trust."

Hardcastle slammed his palm down on the table, causing the wineglasses to jump. "The girl was pregnant when she died. You broke off the engagement just before she shot herself. She told her father you cast her off after forcing yourself on her. What were we all to think?"