Aurora stamped down upon his foot with all her might, and as he yelped in pain, she pulled away from him. "You may, the pair of you, go to hell!" she said, and then stalked from the drawing room.

"Spirited gel," St. John noted. "Perhaps you have done me a favor, cousin, by taking her off my hands. I don't think I could manage such a fierce firebrand, although I will admit," he confided wickedly, "that she kisses like an angel and has marvelous little tits."

"Do not honor me with your confidences regarding the lady who is now my wife, cousin. I might be forced to call you out, St. John," the duke told him pleasantly, but there was an undertone of menace in his voice. "Come, and let us have a whiskey before you ride home to break the news to your mother."

"Well," St. John responded sulkily, "I did leave her virtue intact, Hawkesworth. You might at least thank me for that. After all, we were to be married, and no one could have faulted me for breeching her." He accepted the cut-glass tumbler the duke handed him and sniffed at it appreciatively.

The duke laughed. "Very well, St. John, I thank you for leaving my betrothed wife's virginity for me to dispose of last night."

St. John laughed back. "Why, you devil! You were taking no chances, were you? I do believe that I am flattered, Hawkesworth." He raised his glass to the duke. "To her grace," he said.

Valerian Hawkesworth acknowledged his cousin's salute and lifted his own tumbler. "To her grace," he said, "and to you also, St. John. You are certainly the most gentlemanly cad I have ever known, even if we are related by blood."

The two cousins drank their whiskey in companionable silence for a few minutes, and then St. John said, "Who the hell am I going to find to marry, Hawkesworth? Mama is going to be furious, and there will be hell to pay. What about that tempting little Isabelle Bowen?"

"My grandmother has her marked for some baronet, but of course she has not introduced the two yet. I see no reason why you shouldn't make an attempt. Pretty wench. Modest dower, but the Bowens are quite respectable and a very old family. She would be most suitable, and she's innocent enough to be bowled over by your unctuous charms, St. John. Your mother would be quite pleased if you could pull it off. Best to catch Miss Bowen before she grows much older and discovers what a rogue you really are, cousin," he finished with a chuckle.

"I shall play the heartbroken lover," St. John said thoughtfully. "Young girls always adore comforting a man whose heart has been hurt by some other vixen. You don't mind if I suggest Aurora is a villainess, do you, Hawkesworth? Not a wicked one, of course, hut a wee bit of a one. Tampered with my affections knowing all along how she had deceived you and was now deceiving me." His look was that of a saddened lover.

The duke burst out laughing. "Be heartbroken if you will, St. John, but do not make my wife out a villainess. The truth will serve you quite nicely. You must be generous in your crushing grief. It will play better, I suspect. Also, you will have to turn your talents to overcoming any objections that the Bowens have regarding your suitability as a son-in-law. Win Isabelle over first, however. Sir Ronald will not like losing a title for his daughter. I will assuage my grandmother's disappointment by reminding her that the next Bowen chit will be marriageable in just three or four more years. If the baronet is loath to settle down, a few more years should not matter to him."

"Why on earth would the Bowens object to me?" St. John asked. "I am young, healthy, extremely handsome, and rich. What more could they possibly want in a son-in-law, Hawkesworth?"

"My dear St. John," his cousin answered him, "you are indeed all those things, but you are also an undeniable rascal. You have broken any number of hearts, and if rumor is to be believed, you have at least two bastards to your credit."

"Three," St. John murmured, unabashed. "The daughter of the innkeeper at the Three Swans has recently presented me with a girl child. I do acknowledge the little ones, and pay their mothers a generous yearly stipend as well as seeing to their baptisms."

Hawkesworth laughed all the harder. "I am certain that Sir Ronald and Lady Elsie will be most impressed by your Christian charity. We get ahead of ourselves, however. First you must entice Miss Isabelle Bowen in your web of love. Once you have done that, the battle is half won."

"And if not, I shall have to go to London to see if I can find some sweet little debutante whose down-on-her-heels but utterly old family will not blink at my reputation, so blinded are they by my fortune and lands." Putting his tumbler down, he grinned at the duke. "I wish you more happiness this time, Hawkesworth, than you had with your last marriage. For all our rivalry, we are family and best friends."

The two men shook hands, embraced, and then the duke walked with his cousin out into the afternoon, where one of the grooms stood waiting with St. John's horse. Mounting the beast, St. John gave the duke a wave, and then rode off in the direction of Primrose Court. Hawkesworth watched him for a few minutes and then returned to the house. It was time that he and his wife began getting seriously acquainted.

Peters greeted him, saying, "Her grace will not allow us to move her things into the duchess's rooms, my lord."

"Nor should you, Peters. At least not until the rooms have been totally redecorated. You can understand that my wife would not want to sleep in the place where her sister has so recently died. Tell her servants to leave her grace's possessions where they are. I will discuss the refurbishing with my wife shortly."

"Of course, my lord," the butler said. "It was thoughtless of us to have attempted to move her grace under the circumstances."

The duke hurried up the stairs to Aurora's room, but she was not there. He went to his grandmother's room, where the dowager was sleeping. Where the hell could Aurora have gone to, he wondered as he entered his own bedchamber. Then he gaped in shock. She lay curled upon a hip in the center of his bed, resting her body upon an arm and an elbow, her heart-shaped face supported in the palm of her hand. She was stark naked but for the necklace of aquamarines about her neck. A fire crackled in the fireplace, the light of the flames mingling with the light from the setting sun.

"I have decided to forgive you, Valerian," she said, breaking the silence between them. "You were absolutely right about St. John. He is a scoundrel." She shifted her legs just slightly, allowing him a fine view of the thick thatch of tight brown-gold curls between her thighs. Then she ran the tip of her tongue along the top of her lip.

"How in God's name did you manage to preserve your virginity so long?" he demanded of her. He shrugged off his coat, and, unbuttoning his waistcoat, lay the two garments upon a chair. Moving back to the bedroom door as he undid his cambric shirt, he turned the lock, and spinning about, yanked off the shirt, saying, "I shall need your help with my boots, Aurora. Come here," he commanded, and watched with pleasure as she slid off the bed and walked toward him.

"What shall I do, my lord?" she murmured.

Seating himself in a chair, he said, "Straddle one of my legs, and then pull the boot off, my precious." Then he grinned, delighted at the sight of her pretty bottom. It was as round as a peach, and when she grasped his right boot and began to pull, he was unable to resist placing his left foot upon her and pushing gently.

"Ooofff!" she grunted as the first boot slid off, and she set it aside, bestriding his other leg and drawing off the second boot.

He peeled his stockings off, and when he stood again, she began to undo his breeches. Shaking his head, he said, "If I had not sprung you myself, I should be in serious doubt as to your chastity."

"Don't you want to make love to me?" she said softly.

"Yes, I do," he admitted as she pulled the breeches over his hips, leaving him to finish the job, and slipped his drawers down to complete her task. "Tell me, did St. John light this fire in you?"

Aurora shook her head. "Since my childhood 1 have known how to pleasure myself," she told him. "I am wise enough to have known that I must keep this part of my nature secret, and not be called wanton, or shame my family, but the hunger was always there. Last night you were able to satisfy that hunger. I want you to do it again!" She pressed her naked body against his, slipping her arms about his neck. "Do I shock you? Calandra, I know, was my opposite. She told me she did not like the act. I do, Valerian. I like it very much. Can we do it twice again? I was so surprised that you could do it twice in one night!"

He wanted to laugh. She was wonderful! Ingenuous, innocent, and knowing all in the same moment. She was a gift after his marriage to her coldhearted sister. "This passion of yours," he said softly, his arms wrapping about her, "must be reserved for me, my precious. You do understand that, do you not?"

She nodded, and then her hand slipped down to push between them and grasp his member. "It is so hard," she noted, and then loosed her grip upon him and began to caress it. "Do you like that as much as I like it when you stroke my breasts? You do not mind if I ask you such questions, do you? I want to please you as you have pleased me."

"Yes," he said slowly, "I like it when you touch me. There are other ways you can give my member pleasure besides petting it, but if you are fearful, or repulsed, I will understand."

"How?" Her tone was filled with curiosity.