Half an hour later the hired hackney rattled to a halt in front of the fashionable Beaumont townhouse.

Jared got out. "Wait for me," he called up to the coachman. "I shall not be long."

"Aye, m'lord."

Jared pulled his gold watch out of his pocket and glanced at the face as he went up the steps. He had left the boys at home with Mrs. Bird while he paid this call on Demetria.

He did not have much time to waste before he was due to fetch Olympia from the library, but he told himself that would not be a problem. He did not have a great deal to say to Demetria.

The door was opened by a butler whose disapproving look extended not only to Jared's unfashionable attire but to his equally unfashionable mode of arrival. It was obvious that most callers at the townhouse traveled by private carriage, not hackney coach.

"You will inform Lady Beaumont that Chillhurst wishes to speak with her," Jared said without preamble.

The butler looked down the long length of his nose. "Your card, sir?"

"I do not have a card."

"Lady Beaumont does not receive visitors before three in the afternoon, sir."

"If you do not let her know that I am here," Jared said very politely, "I shall see to the matter, myself."

The butler glowered but wisely withdrew into the hall to carry out the instructions. Jared waited on the steps until the door opened a second time.

"Lady Beaumont will see you in the drawing room."

Jared did not bother to respond. He walked into the hall and allowed himself to be shown into Demetria's presence. She was waiting for him at the far end of the room, her pale blue and white silk skirts artfully arranged on a blue and gilt sofa. She smiled her distant smile at him as he approached. Her eyes were cool and wary.

It occurred to Jared that she had always watched him with that same remote expression. Three years ago he had mistaken the look for an indication of self-control and self-restraint. He had thought at the time that such qualities were precisely what he wanted in a wife.

Later he had learned that what Demetria was controlling and restraining was her distaste of him.

"Good morning, Chillhurst. This is a surprise."

"Is it?" Jared took in the expensively decorated room with a casual glance. The walls were hung with blue silk. The fireplace was trimmed with carved white marble. Heavy, blue velvet draperies framed classically proportioned windows that overlooked a large garden. There was a cool opulence about the whole that underlined Beaumont's great wealth.

"You've done very well for yourself, Demetria."

Demetria inclined her head. "Did you seriously doubt that I would?"

"No. Not for a moment." Jared came to a halt and studied her, aware that she was very much at home in the richly furnished room. No one looking at Demetria now would ever guess that she had once been nearly penniless. "You were always a very determined woman."

"Those of us who were not born into wealth must either learn determination or consign ourselves to a very insecure life. But you would not understand that sort of problem, Jared, would you?"

"Very likely not." There was no point telling her that he had learned that lesson long ago. He did not think Demetria would care to hear of how his own childhood had been fraught with both financial insecurity and the emotional chaos created by his eccentric, passionate family.

It occurred to Jared that he had never gotten around to talking to Demetria about his past. Not that she would have been particularly interested. She was concerned only with her own future and that of her brother.

Demetria rested one arm languidly along the back of the sofa. "I assume you have a particular reason for calling upon me at such an early hour?"

"Of course."

"Of course." Demetria's voice held a bitter edge. "You never do anything without a particular reason, do you, Jared? Your whole life is controlled by reason, your watch, and your damnable appointment journal. Very well, then, tell me why you are here."

"I wish to know why you and your brother and your very good friend, Lady Kirkdale, paid a visit to my wife yesterday."

Demetria's eyes widened guilelessly. "Why, Jared, what a strange question. We merely wished to welcome her to town."

"Save your lies for your husband. At his age he is no doubt content to believe them."

Demetria's mouth tightened. "You are in no position to pass judgment on my marriage, Chillhurst. You know nothing about it."

"I know that it was very probably inspired by greed on your part and desperation for an heir on Beaumont's part."

"Come now, Chillhurst. We both know that greed and the desire for an heir are the two factors which characterize the vast majority of all marriages in the polite world." Demetria's eyes narrowed in speculation. "Surely you do not expect me to believe that your own alliance with that rather odd female you've got hidden away in Ibberton Street is based on more noble sentiments?"

"I did not come here to discuss my marriage with you."

"Then why did you come here?"

"To warn you and that extremely annoying brother of yours to stay away from my wife. I will not allow either of you to play your cat-and-mouse games with her. Is that very clear?"

"What makes you think we were playing a game with her? Perhaps we were merely curious to see what sort of female had met your requirements?"

"You must be very bored, indeed, these days to bother with Olympia."

"Is she so very dull, then?" Demetria gave him a look of mocking innocence. "What a pity. How long will she retain your interest, do you think? Or do you find a boring little bluestocking perfectly suited to your taste?"

"Enough, Demetria."

"Have you gotten what you wanted, Chillhurst?" Demetria's eyes glinted with cold anger. "A woman who will conform to your bloody schedule? A woman who knows nothing of passion, herself, and therefore will not notice that you are sorely lacking in such matters?"

"You need not concern yourself with my private affairs." Jared turned to leave and then paused. "You got what you wanted, Demetria. Be content."

"Is that a threat, Jared?"

"I believe it is."

"You cold-blooded, arrogant bastard." Demetria's hand curved into a small fist on the back of the sofa. "It is so easy for you to make threats. Just because you were born with everything, a fortune and a title to go with it, you believe yourself to be far above the rest of us. But do you know something, Jared? I do not envy you."

Jared smiled. "I am relieved to hear that."

"No, I do not envy you in the least, my lord." Demetria's eyes blazed. "You are doomed to live your whole life never knowing the kind of passion that sets fire to your blood. You will never know what it is to surrender to a river of violent emotions capable of sweeping you away."

"Demetria—"

"You will never learn the sweet joy of being with another whose soul touches your own. You, with your merchant's heart, will never know what it is to have the power to make a lover respond, will you, Jared?"

Jared met her eyes and knew that she was recalling the same afternoon that he was. It was the day he had kissed her in the stables at the Isle of Flame.

That kiss had not been a polite, chaste caress as the others had been. It had been a desperate effort on his part to incite a response in her. He had surprised them both with that kiss, but not with the answer it had given him.

He knew that both of them had realized the truth that day. There could be no passion between them. It was the first time Jared had even acknowledged that he had wanted passion in his marriage. He supposed he owed Demetria for having opened his eyes to his weakness.

"I shall just have to manage as best I can," Jared said. "Good day to you, Demetria. Do not let me find you pestering my wife again. And I advise you to keep your damned brother out of my sight."

"Why?" Alarm flared in Demetria's eyes. "You cannot hurt him. My husband is a rich and powerful man. He will protect Gifford from you if necessary."

Jared's brows rose. "Your husband is far more concerned with finding a cure for his unfortunate affliction than he is with protecting that fool brother of yours. Furthermore, if you want to do Seaton a favor, you will cease trying to protect him. He is three-and-twenty years old. 'Tis past time he became a man."

"He is a man, damn you."

"He is a boy, with a boy's wild, uncontrolled emotions. He is spoiled, sullen, and temperamental. You have kept him confined to leading strings by shielding him at every turn. If you would have him grow up, you must let him learn to accept responsibility for his own actions."

"I have taken care of my brother all of my life," Demetria said fiercely, "I do not want or need your advice."

Jared shrugged. "As you wish. But if either you or Seaton crosses my path, you had best not depend upon me to play the gentleman a second time. I did that once, if you will recall. Once was enough."

"You do not understand," Demetria hissed. "But, then, you never understood. Get out of here, Chillhurst, or I vow I will have you thrown out."

"Do not trouble yourself. I am only too happy to take my leave."

Jared strode out into the hall without a backward glance. The butler had disappeared but Gifford was standing just outside the drawing-room door. He was pale with fury.

"What are you doing here, Chillhurst?"

"Visiting your charming sister, not that it is any concern of yours." Jared stepped around Gifford and went toward the front door.