A minor confession. Was that what his revelation would be deemed as? There was every possibility. These were jaded women neck deep in every kind of human foible. What was to him an unbearably intimate secret might very well rank somewhere near the bottom of their scale in terms of salaciousness and titillation.

But he had no choice. His ill-considered words had been the cause of enough chagrin. No more.

The women’s nostrils flared. Their gaze upon him was that of two vultures that had waited patiently and would soon feast. He felt ill, nauseated almost, to bare his soul before such as them.

He gripped the back of the chair before him. “I fell in love with my wife ten years ago, when she was still Mrs. Townsend.”

The women exchanged another look. Lady Avery sat down again.

His knuckles were white. He forced his hands to unclench. “It was—difficult. Not only because she seemed happily married, but also because my sentiments were consuming—beyond my control. Then I ran into Townsend. And he’d said what he’d said. I need not repeat how I interpreted subsequent events.

“What I did not say at the lecture was that my revulsion and outrage did little to emancipate me from my enslavement. However unwillingly, I remained in thrall to her beauty. In the ensuing years, I made sure that our paths would not cross.

“But the time had come for me to do my duty and marry. I was obliged to be in London during the Season. As my return drew near, my doubts grew. Mrs. Easterbrook’s hold over me remained undiminished. If I came across her again, I was not confident that my principles would be strong enough to withstand my fixation. Years of resistance could be undone by a single encounter.

“In Sanders Theatre, my mind was in a state of unrest. I managed to get through the body of the lecture, but I betrayed myself during the questions. At the time I only thought I was reinforcing my own resolution, but I quickly realized that I’d committed a great indiscretion. I took comfort in the fact that I was more than three thousand miles from home and my American audience would not know of whom I spoke. That, as you well know, turned out not to be the case.

“Since then I’ve had cause to revise my opinion of my wife. I’d been very much mistaken about her. Even if I did not know what she looked like, I would still find her beautiful. I—”

The door of the drawing room opened to reveal the loveliest woman in the world, clad in a sandstone-colored traveling gown. “Christian,” she said, “I know I have not been—”

She saw Lady Avery and Lady Somersby. Her eyes narrowed. Her tone turned icy. “I did not know we were at home to callers.”

She was every bit the haughty duchess.

“You have met Mr. Grant, one of His Grace’s dear friends from his school days, have you not, Your Grace?” Lady Somersby asked her.

“I do not believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

“Mr. Grant happens to be my late husband’s nephew—a very fine young man, and very close to myself.”

She raised a very superior eyebrow. “Is he?”

“And do you know what we learned from Mr. Grant recently?” Lady Somersby went on, an infernal gleam in her eyes. “That the duke has been obsessively in love with you, ma’am, for the past ten years. In view of the turns of events of late, it is my firm opinion that he engineered this entire enterprise with the express purpose of making you his own.”

Lady Avery’s teacup rattled. Christian was torn between an urge to violence and a numb horror. Had he? Was this what his action had been all about? To force her to pay attention to him? To bring her into his proximity without stooping to court her?

He wanted to protest. But his tongue must have swollen to a size that not only made speech impossible, but also blocked his airway. He could not breathe.

His wife cast an incredulous glance his way. Then she faced Lady Somersby. “Explain yourself.”

“You are the one woman he’d always coveted. By creating this particular tempest, His Grace easily put you in an awkward and vulnerable position, ma’am. All the better, then, to rescue you from this dilemma, no?”

“Brilliant, my dear, brilliant,” murmured Lady Avery. “Now everything makes sense.”

“I hate to burst this pretty bubble of self-congratulation,” said Venetia, “but what dross. What rubbish. The duke had never given me a thought in his life before he spoke to Mr. Townsend—and very few since.”

“I beg your pardon?” cried the gossip chroniclers together.

“Mr. Townsend had been an awful husband, but His Grace had no cause to know such a thing. Therefore one cannot blame him for taking Mr. Townsend at his word. And why, when asked a direct question, shouldn’t he have used Mr. Townsend’s account as a cautionary tale? After all, appearances are deceiving.” She inhaled deeply. “Now we come to the part of the tale that you, Lady Avery, should have put together for yourself but did not: I was there that day at the lecture.”

Lady Avery gasped. “You jest, ma’am.”

“I do not. Ask anyone. Miss Fitzhugh was gathering material for an article on the graduating class of Radcliffe, and Lady Fitzhugh and I were her chaperones. You can well imagine our reaction to the duke’s accusations. Miss Fitzhugh would have torched his properties had he any on the other side of the pond. But I had the better idea. I would make the duke pay with his heart. To that purpose I booked a passage on the Rhodesia.”

Lady Somersby leaped up. “You were the duke’s mysterious veiled lover?”

“I see you have guessed at long last,” said Venetia with cool sarcasm. “My plans, however, went awry. The duke, I’m sure, enjoyed himself. But I was the one who fell in love. He is everything I want in a man—and much, much more, if you know what I mean.”

Lady Somersby’s eyes were the size of eggs. Christian’s jaw dropped. His wife paid him no mind.

“I was desperately in love, but I could not approach the duke: Were we to rendezvous in London, he would demand that I remove my veil—and you can well imagine the scene that would ensue. But I followed him about, to the British Museum of Natural History, and to the Savoy Hotel where we were to dine together in honor of his birthday.

“When the scandal broke, the duke came to my aid—despite his many reservations concerning my character. He danced with me once and took me for a carriage ride in the park, but that was the entire extent of interaction he allowed between us. Our marriage came about and only came about because I found myself in a delicate condition.”

Lady Avery’s hand slapped against her roomy bosom. “Oh my goodness gracious me.”

“Precisely. Mr. Townsend had convinced me that I could not conceive. The duke quite proved otherwise. And if you doubt me, feel free to speak with Miss Redmayne at the New Hospital for Women. Faced with such consequences, I had no choice but to approach the duke and beg him to marry me. He was understandably furious, but he did the honorable thing and made me his wife. This was why he married me, not because of some deep, dark fixation he’d carried with him for years uncounted, but because he is a man who does not let personal opinions stand in the way of obligation.”

Christian was stunned. Ladies Avery and Somersby likewise so. At last, Lady Somersby said, “If you will excuse us for a moment, my sister and I must confer in private.”

They took themselves to a corner of the room, behind a screen. Christian pulled his wife to the opposite corner.

“Letting them know about your condition? Are you mad?” It was not easy keeping his voice down.

“Possibly. But I can’t let them go around telling everybody that you’ve been in love with me since forever.”

“Why not?”

“Because you would have hated it. And you must choose better friends. I am extremely disappointed in Mr. Grant.”

“Grant doesn’t know a thing. I’ve not said a word to him.”

“Then who could have informed those vultures? I can’t believe the dowager duchess would have done something like this.”

“She didn’t—I’ve never said anything to her, either. I’ve never told anyone except you.”

“Then—”

“I did. They’d dug up all sorts of evidence that Townsend and I were indeed in the same place at the same time shortly before he died and that everything else Lady Avery asserted could also be supported. They were out to prove that they had their gossip right. And I told them that if they left the past alone I’d tell them something better worth their time.”

She blinked slowly, her lashes long, sooty. “Why?”

He swallowed. “I can’t have you hurt again. I won’t. And you, you ninny, you sweep in and undo everything I just did.”

He made a throttling gesture with his hands.

She covered her mouth, then she laughed. God, how he adored her laughter.

“You do love me,” she said, her voice full of wonder.

“Of course I do, you idiot. How can you think that I do not? Seen or unseen, you bring me to my knees.”

“I can be on my knees sometimes, if you’d like.” She giggled.

Lust jolted through him. “Be serious,” he said with some difficulty. “We are in a room with two she-wolves.”

“I don’t care. They can’t hurt me. Nor can Mr. Townsend ever again.” To his shock, she wrapped her arms about him. “I love you. I love you madly. That’s what I came to tell you. I couldn’t help falling in love with you as soon as I got to know you. And I’m very sorry for acting the Great Beauty and hurting you.”

The beauty of her words were almost beyond his comprehension. He embraced her fiercely. “I’m the one who should apologize. I started all the troubles and I was the stupidest numskull who ever lived.”