"Good night, madam." Bryce disappeared through the velvet curtains.

"Was he disturbing you in any way?" Gideon asked quietly as he sat down beside Harriet.

"Heavens, no." Harriet unfurled her fan and quickly began fanning herself. "He was merely being polite." She caught her sister's eye. Felicity gave her an inquiring glance, silently asking if everything was all right. Harriet tried to convey, equally silently, that everything was under control.

"I am pleased to hear it." Gideon lounged arrogantly in the chair beside Harriet, his proprietary attitude toward her plain for everyone else in the theater to see. "Are you enjoying the performance?"

"Not particularly," Harriet said. "One cannot hear much of it, for one thing. The crowd is very loud tonight. Some of the people down below started pelting the stage with orange peelings just before the intermission."

Adelaide chuckled. "Harriet is still under the impression one actually goes to the theater to see and hear the performance, St. Justin. We have told her that is the least important reason for attending."

Gideon's mouth curved faintly. He gazed out at the crowd with obvious satisfaction. "Quite right."

Harriet stirred uneasily in her chair. She had had quite enough of being put on display as the bride of the Beast of Blackthorne Hall.

Late that night, when her maid had finally left her bedchamber and she was alone at last, Harriet decided the time had come to confront Gideon.

She went to the door that connected her bedchamber to Gideon's and put her ear against the panel. She was just in time to hear Gideon's valet take his leave. Harriet opened the door and went straight into the other room.

"I would like to speak to you, my lord," she announced.

Gideon, wearing a black dressing gown, was pouring himself a glass of brandy. He glanced up, one brow lifting slightly. "Of course, my dear. I was just about to come to your bedchamber. But as you are here, you may as well join me in a glass of brandy."

"No, thank you. I do not care for any."

"I detect a certain edge in your tone." Gideon took a swallow of his brandy and regarded her closely. "Are you annoyed with me for some reason, Harriet?"

"Yes, I am. Gideon, I did not want to go to the theater tonight. I went because you insisted on it."

"I thought you would enjoy being with your family and reassuring them that you are safely wed. They need no longer worry about whether or not you will be ravished and abandoned by me. You are now the Viscountess St. Justin and nothing can alter that."

"That was not why you insisted I go, and you know it. Gideon, my sister thinks you are putting me on display as if I were a rare species of pet. Is that true? Because if it is, I do not like it. I have had enough."

"You are a very rare creature, my dear." His eyes gleamed. "Very rare, indeed."

"That is quite untrue, my lord. I am a perfectly ordinary female who now happens to be your wife. Gideon, I do not want to be an exhibition any longer. Have you not proven whatever it is you feel you must prove to Society?"

"Whatever your sister says, I did not send you to the theater tonight in order to exhibit you, Harriet."

"Are you quite certain of that, my lord?" she asked softly.

"Bloody hell. Of course I am certain. What a ridiculous question. I thought you would enjoy being with your family and I thought you would enjoy the theater. That is all there was to it."

"Very well," Harriet said, "the next time you suggest I go someplace I do not particularly wish to go, I will feel quite free to refuse."

He gave her an annoyed look. "Harriet, you are a married woman now. You will do as you are bid."

"Ah-hah. Then you intend to order me to go to places I do not wish to go?"

"Harriet—"

"If you do start giving me such orders, then I must conclude that you have some other motive than pleasing me in mind," Harriet said. "Thus far the only motive I can come up with is your desire to exhibit me."

"I am not exhibiting you." Gideon downed the brandy with an irritated expression.

"Then let us go back to Upper Biddleton," Harriet said quickly. "Neither of us is particularly fond of Town life. Let us go home."

"Are you so eager to get back to your fossils, then?"

"Naturally I am eager to get back to them. You know how concerned I am about someone else finding the other bones that go with my tooth. And as you are not enjoying Society any more than I am, I see no reason why we should not go back to Upper Biddleton."

"You and your bloody damn fossils," he growled. "Is that all you can think about?"

Harriet suddenly realized that he was no longer merely annoyed. Gideon was growing angry. "You know better than that, my lord."

"Is that so? Tell me, my dear, where do I rank in relation to your fossils? Other husbands have to worry about competition from men such as Morland. My fate is to find myself competing with a bunch of old bones and teeth."

"Gideon, this is turning into an idiotic argument. I do not understand you tonight, my lord."

Gideon swore softly. "I am not certain I understand myself tonight. I am not in the best of moods, Harriet. Perhaps you had better go to bed."

Harriet went toward him. She put her hand on his arm and looked up into his hard face. "What is wrong, Gideon?"

"Nothing is wrong."

"Do not fob me off like that. I know something has happened to turn you surly like this."

"According to you I am naturally surly."

"Not all the time," she retorted. "Tell me what has annoyed you, Gideon. Was it the fact that Mr. Morland came by our box at the theater?"

Gideon moved away from her. He went over to where the brandy sat on the small end table and poured himself another glass. "I will deal with Morland."

"Gideon. " Harriet was shocked. "What are you saying?"

"I am saying I will deal with him."

"St. Justin, you listen to me," Harriet snapped. "Do not dare contemplate the notion of trying to provoke Mr. Morland into a duel. Not for one single moment. Do you understand me? I will not have it."

"You are that enamored of him, then?" he drawled.

"For heaven's sake, Gideon, you know that is not true. What is wrong with you tonight?"

"I told you, it might be best if you take yourself off to bed, madam."

"I will not be sent off to bed like an errant child while you storm about in here like a great… a great…"

"Beast?"

"No, not like a beast," Harriet yelled. "Like a temperamental, difficult, insensitive husband who does not trust his wife."

That stopped him. Gideon stared at her. "I trust you, Harriet."

She read that simple truth in his eyes and a part of her that had been very cold grew much warmer. "Well," she mumbled, "you are most certainly not acting like it."

His tawny eyes were almost gold in the firelight. "There is no one else on the face of this earth whom I trust as completely as I trust you. Do not ever forget that."

Harriet felt a giddy rush of happiness. "Do you mean that?"

"I never say anything I do not mean."

"Oh, Gideon, that is the nicest thing you have ever said to me." She rushed across the room and threw herself into his arms.

"My God, how could you think I did not trust you?" He put down his brandy glass and wrapped her close. "Never doubt it, my sweet."

"If you trust me," she whispered against his chest, "why are you concerned with Mr. Morland?"

"He is dangerous," Gideon said simply.

"How do you know that?"

"I know him well. He used to call himself my friend. We had, after all, spent a portion of our childhood together. His family lived near Blackthorne Hall for some years while we were growing up. They eventually moved away. I met Morland again in London when I came down from university. He still called himself my friend, even after he slashed my face open with a fencing blade."