If Sophia had not been so outraged, she would have laughed scornfully at the notion that Ross was too much of a gentleman to protest being cuckolded. "Stay away from me," she repeated, her voice unsteady despite the tight control she maintained over herself.

"You intrigue me, Sophia," Anthony remarked. "You are far more spirited and worldly-wise than you were before. The change in you is quite lovely. It bears investigation, I think."

"Investigation?" Her voice held utter bewilderment.

"Not now, of course, as you've just been wed. But sometime in the future, I may persuade you to renew our...friendship." His smile was taunting and arrogant. "I can be very persuasive, as you well know."

Sophia inhaled sharply. "There is no possible inducement to make me spend five minutes in your company."

"Isn't there? I would hate for certain rumors about you to circulate. What an embarrassment for your husband and his family. Perhaps you should consider being pleasant to me, Sophia. If not, the consequences could prove most distressing."

She turned white with fear and rage. No doubt Anthony was enjoying the exchange, toying with her like a cat with a mouse. Whether his threats were serious or not, his efforts to set her off-balance were very effective. And she herself had given him that power by once having been stupid enough to trust him. If Anthony ever chose to tell people that he had known her intimately, she would not be able to refute his claims. An embarrassment to the Cannon family, indeed. Wretchedly Sophia contemplated the solemn portraits before her--the faces of her husband's distinguished ancestors. How ill-suited she was to join such company.

"There, now," Anthony murmured, seeming to relish her silent despair. "I see that we have reached an understanding."

As Ross brought a glass of champagne punch to his mother, he saw Sophia standing near the entrance of the portrait gallery. She was conversing with a young man whom Ross had never met. Although a casual observer could not have read the expression on Sophia's carefully blank face, Ross knew her too well.

"Mother," Ross asked casually, "who is that?"

Catherine followed his gaze. "The blond gentleman speaking with Sophia?"

"Yes."

"That charming boy is Mr. Anthony Lyndhurst, the son of Baron Lyndhurst. I have become quite attached to the family this past year. Such delightful people. You would have met them at your grandfather's birthday weekend, but the baron's sister was quite ill, and of course the family did not wish to leave her until she was out of danger."

"Anthony," Ross repeated, studying the slim, golden-haired man. There was no doubt in his mind that he was the same Anthony who had seduced Sophia. "The youngest of three sons," Catherine informed him, "and perhaps the most accomplished of the lot. He sings in the most lovely tenor--it would give you chills to hear him."

Ross was far more interested in givinghim chills. "Audacious bastard," he said beneath his breath. Whether Anthony was apologizing for the past or, more likely, throwing it in Sophia's face, Ross was going to set him straight on a few points.

"What did you say?" Catherine asked. "My goodness, the way you and Matthew have taken to muttering to yourselves of late, I am beginning to wonder if I have become hard-of-hearing."

Ross tore his glance from Anthony Lyndhurst for one moment. "Forgive me, Mother. I referred to Lyndhurst as an audacious bastard."

Catherine was obviously taken aback by the blunt comment. "Mr. Lyndhurst is merely chatting with Sophia, dear. There is no need to carry on as if he has done something ungentlemanly. It isn't like you to be jealous and possessive. I do hope you will not make a scene."

Instantly Ross adopted a bland smile. "I never make scenes," he said mildly.

Pacified, Catherine beamed at him. "That's better, dear. Now, if you will come this way, I want to introduce you to Lord and Lady Maddox. They have purchased the old Everleigh estate and are refurbishing the entire east--" Catherine broke off in perplexed surprise as she realized that her elder son was no longer with her. "All this mysterious dashing about!" she exclaimed to herself, vexed by his sudden disappearance. "Perhaps he has forgotten that he is not at Bow Street this evening." Shaking her head in exasperation, she drank the rest of her champagne punch and headed toward a circle of friends.

After taking his leave of Sophia, Anthony Lyndhurst wandered away from the drawing room. He paused at a massive gold-framed mirror and preened expertly. When he was satisfied that his appearance was immaculate, he strolled out to an open conservatory to have a smoke and enjoy the evening breeze. The night was dark and warm, the air laced with the rustling of leaves as well as the flexible strains of music from inside.

Filled with anticipation, Anthony considered the unexpected changes in his former light-o'-love. He had never revisited one of his paramours after he had left them. Once he was finished with a woman, he had no further interest in her. And Sophia had offered little in the way of sexual amusement, save for an innocent affection that had palled rather quickly. However, it was obvious that Sophia had received some tutoring in the intervening months. She wore the look of a well-pleasured woman, with her ripe mouth and blooming cheeks, and a sensuality in her movements that she had definitely not possessed when Anthony had known her. She seemed both elegant and sexually aware.

Surely Sir Ross had not effected such a change in her. Everyone knew him to be a cold and charmless bastard, not to mention notoriously celibate. Perhaps Sophia had taken yet another lover. The small but intriguing mystery occupied Anthony's thoughts pleasantly as he reached into his pocket for a cigar.

All at once a shadow seemed to fly at him from nowhere. Anthony had no chance to make a sound before he was brutally slammed against the wall. Paralyzed in fright, he felt something hard press against his throat--an unyielding muscular arm that threatened to crush the life from him.

"Wh...wh..." Anthony gasped, struggling helplessly against his captor. The man was large and irate, with all the restraint of a ravening animal. Anthony's bulging eyes beheld a dark visage that could have belonged to Satan himself. It took several moments for Anthony to recognize his assailant. "Sir Ross--"

"You cowardly milksop," Cannon growled. "I know your kind. You pick your victims carefully--innocent women who have no one to protect them from gutter-scum like you. But you have finally chosen the wrong one. Find an excuse to leave Silverhill immediately, or I will smear you from here to London. And if you ever speak to my wife again, or dare to even glance in her direction, I will butcher you."

"Cannon..." Anthony wheezed uncontrollably. "Be...civilized..."

"I'm afraid I am nothing close to civilized where my wife is concerned."

"Please," Anthony choked as the blunt pressure at his throat increased.

"There is something else I should make clear," Cannon continued softly. "If you mention one word to anyone about your past with Sophia, I will personally throw you in Newgate. Of course, I can only keep you there for three days, but that will seem like a lifetime when you're locked in a cell with creatures that are more animal than human. By the time you're released, you'll be cursing your mother for bearing you."

"No," Anthony begged. "Won't say anything...won't bother her..."

"That's right," Cannon said in a malevolent whisper. "You will avoid my wife so that she forgets your very existence. Your acquaintance with the Cannons is at an end."

Somehow Anthony managed to nod, conveying acceptance in any way he could. Just as he thought he would faint, he was abruptly released. He fell to the floor, gasping and choking, rolling onto his side. When he finally managed to recover himself, Cannon's brutal form had disappeared. Shivering with terror, Anthony struggled to his feet and ran toward the line of carriages on the front drive as if he were fleeing for his life.

Sophia chatted and laughed with the guests at the ball, while inside, she felt sick and numb. A glass of champagne punch had done nothing to relax her. Anxiously she wondered where her husband was. She considered various ways to tell him about her encounter with Anthony. Certainly the news would ruin his evening as well as hers. No man wished to be confronted with his wife's paramour at his own wedding celebration.

As increasingly gloomy thoughts slunk through her mind, Sophia saw her husband approaching. He looked elegant and handsome, his dark face emphasized by a fresh white cravat. She decided he must have been relaxing with friends in the billiards room or the library, for something had evidently put him in a good humor.

"My sweet." He took her gloved hand and lifted it to his mouth.

"I haven't seen you for a while," she said. "Where have you been?"

"I had to dispose of a rodent," he said lightly.

"Arodent ?." she repeated, perplexed. "Couldn't one of the servants have taken care of it?"

His white teeth gleamed as he laughed. "I wanted to take care of this one." "Oh." She looked across the polished drawing room floor with a frown of worry. "Do you think there might be others scurrying around? They like to run up ladies' skirts, you know."

Still smiling, Ross slipped an arm around her waist. "My lady, the only creature that will nibble at your ankles tonight is me."

Sophia glanced around to make certain they could not be overheard. "Ross," she said unsteadily, "I-I must tell you something--"