Sebastian scratched his nose and refilled his glass. Judith had lost her temper, and once she'd taken the high road, as he knew from a lifetime's experience, there was little he could do to turn her from the path. She'd pursue it until the momentum died. "Is it wise to be so blatantly provoking?" he asked, without much hope of success.

"I don't much care," his sister responded. "He thinks I'm a designing, conniving baggage, with no morals and no principles. And so I shall be."

Sebastian sighed. "How much do you want to spend for the pair?"

"Not above four hundred… unless it would be a crime to pass them up, of course."

"Grantham's in debt up to his neck… I could probably acquire his match-bays for around four hundred."

"Wonderful. Pay for them out of the 'fund,' and I'll replace it as soon as I've earned it."

She reached up and kissed him. "Now I'll leave you to Hyde Park."

"Ju?"

"Yes?" She stopped as she reached the door.

"Gracemere's in town."

"Ahhh. Have you seen him?"

"No, but Wellby was talking of him in Whites this morning."

"Ahhh," said Judith again, as a prickle of anticipation crept up her spine. "Then soon we begin, Sebastian."

"Yes," he agreed. "Soon we begin."

Judith stood on the pavement for a minute, gazing sightlessly dow.n the narrow road. The footman waited patiently. A sudden gust of wind picked up a handful of fallen leaves from the gutter and sent them eddying around her. Absently she reached out and caught one. It was dry and crackly and crumbled to dust as her hand closed over it. Once the game with Gracemere was played out, there would be no need to continue the illegal charade of her marriage. Marcus would have his freedom from her. But not before she'd taught him a lesson.

10

Marcus could hear Judith's voice through the door connecting their bedchambers, talking with her maid as Millie dressed her for the evening. The afternoon's unpleasantness had left him with a sour taste in his mouth. He was perfectly entitled to keep a close hand on his wife's pursestrings, but he couldn't rid himself of the feeling that he wasn't behaving like himself. What difference did it make what she spent? It would take more than one lifetime of extravagance to run through his fortune. But disillusion had soured his customary generosity. This wasn't about Judith's spending habits. He wanted to punish her. It was as simple as that. And as disagreeable as that.

He inserted a diamond pin carefully into the snowy folds of his cravat. "You needn't wait up for me, Cheveley."

"No, my lord." The valet turned from the armoire where he was rearranging his lordship's wardrobe with loving care. "If you say so, my lord," he said woodenly.

"I do," Marcus affirmed, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Cheveley's sensitive dignity was always seriously affronted at the slightest hint that his employer could manage without him. "That cough of yours needs a hot toddy and an early bed, man."

Cheveley's thin cheeks pinkened and his stiffness vanished at this solicitude. His lordship was a considerate and just employer, quick to notice signs of discontent or ill health, and quick to act upon both. "That's too good of you, my lord. But I'll be right as a trivet in a day or so."

"Yes, I'm sure you will. But you don't want to take any chances with that weak chest. Leave that now, and take yourself off to bed."

He waited until the valet had left the bedchamber, then opened the door onto his wife's apartment. Judith was sitting at the dressing table, watching critically in the mirror as Millie threaded a gold velvet ribbon through her ringlets.

"Good evening, my lord." For form's sake, Judith offered him the semblance of a smile in the mirror, but didn't turn to greet him.

"Good evening, Judith." Marcus sat down in a velvet chair beside the crackling fire in the hearth. Millie turned her attention to the row of tiny buttons on the tight sleeves of the gown of pale-green crape. It was a color that suited his wife's vibrant coloring to perfection, Marcus reflected, and the thin silk cord circling her waist emphasized her slenderness.

"Did you wish to speak with me?" Judith asked after a few minutes, wondering what could have brought him to her bedchamber in this conjugal fashion. They were hardly in charity with each other at the moment.

"Not about anything in particular," he said, observing without due consideration, "that's a delightful gown."

Judith's expression registered complete disbelief. She blinked and dismissed her maid. "Thank you, Millie, that will do very well. You may go."

The maid curtsied and left. Judith turned on her stool to survey her husband. He was impeccably dressed as always in black satin knee britches and white waistcoat, his only jewelry the diamond pin in his cravat and his heavy gold signet ring, now returned to him. His black hair was brushed d la Brutus and there was a distinct frown in the ebony eyes, but it didn't seem to be directed at her.

"Did I hear you aright?" she demanded, raising her eyebrows. "You approve of my gown, sir. Well, that's fortunate, since I daresay you'll be seeing it on many occasions over the next few years. I shall wear it until it falls off my back in shreds. That is what you intend, isn't it?"

"Don't be silly," Marcus said. He'd come in with the vague intention of making peace, but it looked like a forlorn hope. "You know perfectly well that was not what I meant this afternoon. Your allowance won't be ungenerous."

Judith swung back to the mirror. "Your kindness overwhelms me, my lord." She licked her finger and dampened the delicate arch of her eyebrows, struggling to calm herself… Losing her temper again would play havoc with her equilibrium and she needed a cool head tonight, if she was to win for Sally.

Marcus sighed and tried a new tack. "I thought I would accompany you to Cavendish House this evening." Judith knew how he loathed such social engagements; she would surely understand the sacrifice as the peace offering it was meant to be.

He had expected her to be surprised. He had not expected to see a flash of shock in her eyes. It was replaced almost immediately by something that looked unnervingly like calculation.

"Such gallantry, my lord. But quite unnecessary." She laughed lightly, continuing to examine her reflection critically in the mirror. "It would be a sure way to ruin my evening… or perhaps that was your intention."

"My apologies, ma'am." He stood up, his lips thinned. "I wasn't intending to ruin your evening. Forgive me."

Judith relented slightly. She half turned on the stool again. "I only meant that I won't be able to enjoy myself because I'll know how bored you are."

She turned back to the dressing table and began tidying a pot of hairpins. "None of your friends will be there and mine won't amuse you."

She didn't want his company; it was as simple as that. Marcus bowed and said coldly, "As you wish. I'm sure you know best." He returned to his own bedchamber without a backward glance.

Oh, Lord, Judith thought miserably. Surely not even a forced marriage should be conducted in this sniping wasteland. She and Marcus were simply the wrong people to have chained themselves in this mutual bondage. The sooner she left him to his own devices the better.

It was after two o'clock when a hired hackney drew up outside Number 6, Pickering Street. Sebastian sprang down and assisted his sister to alight. Judith smoothed down her cloak of gold taffeta and adjusted the puffed muslin collar, looking up at the tall, narrow house. So this was London's equivalent of the more genteel gaming hells. She had frequented such places in most of the capitals of the Continent and was more than a little curious to see what London could produce.