"But you do not find it amusing?" Lady Hardcastle asked.

"No." Harriet brightened. "Except for the waltz. I do enjoy dancing the waltz with St. Justin."

Gideon raised his wineglass in a silent salute. He smiled at her across the table. "The feeling is mutual, madam."

Harriet was pleased by his gallantry. "Thank you, sir." She turned back to Lady Hardcastle. "The best part about London, madam, is that I have joined the Fossils and Antiquities Society."

Hardcastle spoke up from the far end of the table. "I used to be a member. Haven't attended a meeting in years, of course."

Harriet turned back to him eagerly. "It is quite a large group now, and there are several very knowledgeable people attending meetings. Unfortunately, I have not made the acquaintance of anyone who knows a great deal about teeth."

"There she goes again," Gideon warned his mother. "You had better stop her quickly unless you want the conversation to revert to fossils."

Harriet blushed. "I beg your pardon, madam. I am frequently told I am too enthusiastic about the subject."

"Do not concern yourself," Lady Hardcastle said graciously. She glanced at her husband. "I recall when his lordship was equally enthusiastic. It has been some time since I have heard him talk about fossils. Nevertheless, it does limit the conversation somewhat. Can you tell us anything else of interest about London?"

Harriet considered that carefully. "Actually, no," she finally admitted. "To be perfectly truthful, I much prefer country life. I cannot wait to get back to Upper Biddleton so that I can go to work in my cave."

Gideon gave her an indulgent look. "As you can see, I have married the perfect wife for a man who prefers to devote himself to his family's lands."

"It will be a great pleasure to travel about with Gideon while he supervises the Hardcastle estates," Harriet said with satisfaction. "I shall be able to explore all sorts of new terrain for fossils."

"It is a relief to know I have something of value to offer you in this marriage," Gideon said. "For a while I was beginning to wonder if you were going to get anything at all useful out of our relationship. I am well aware that a few trifles such as an old title and several profitable estates are not terribly important to a fossil collector such as yourself."

The earl and countess of Hardcastle stared at their son in amazement.

Harriet wrinkled her nose. "You see what I mean?" she said in an aside to Lady Hardcastle. "He cannot resist deliberately provoking others on occasion. It has become a habit with him."

When the meal was finally finished, Gideon sat back in his chair and watched, amused, as his mother prompted Harriet to leave the table and accompany her to the drawing room.

"Shall we leave the gentlemen to their port?" Lady Hardcastle murmured.

"I do not mind if they drink it in front of us," Harriet said blithely.

Gideon grinned. "You obviously did not get enough of a Town polish to realize that my mother is trying to give you a gentle hint. You are supposed to leave the table now so that the gentlemen can drink themselves into a drunken stupor in private."

Harriet scowled. "I trust you are not in the habit of drinking too heavily, my lord. My father never approved of drunkards, and neither do I."

"I shall endeavor to keep my wits about me so that I may perform my duties as a husband tonight, my dear. This is, after all, our wedding night, if you will recall."

Across the table Harriet registered the unsubtle meaning behind the remark and turned a delightful shade of pink. Gideon's mother, however, was not the least bit delighted.

"Gideon. What a perfectly outrageous thing to say." Lady Hardcastle glared furiously at him. "This is a polite household and you will behave yourself. One does not talk about such things at the dinner table. You know that perfectly well. Your manners have disintegrated completely during the past six years."

"Damn right," Hardcastle muttered. "You're embarrassing the chit. Apologize to your wife."

Harriet grinned cheekily at Gideon. "Yes, St. Justin, please do so at once. I do not believe I have ever heard you apologize. I cannot wait to hear this."

Gideon rose to his feet and gave her a courtly bow. His eyes glinted. "My apologies, madam. I did not mean to offend your delicate sensibilities."

"Very pretty." Harriet turned to his parents. "Was that not nicely done? I have great hopes that he can eventually be taught to move in Society without causing undue chaos."

Gideon's mother stood up abruptly, mouth set in stern lines. "I believe Harriet and I will withdraw to the drawing room."

Harriet rose gracefully. "Yes, we had best be on our way before St. Justin says anything else outrageous. Behave yourself while I am gone, my lord."

"I will do my best," Gideon said.

He watched as his mother led Harriet out of the dining room. When the door closed behind them, he sat down again.

A deep silence descended on the room. Hawkins stepped forward with the port and poured a glass for Gideon and his father. Then the butler departed.

The silence lengthened between the two men. Gideon made no move to break it. It was the first time he and his father had been alone together in a long while. If Hardcastle wished to speak to him, Gideon decided, he could damn well make the effort.

"She's interesting," the earl said at last. "I'll grant you that. Not at all in the usual style."

"No. She's not. It is one of her most attractive features."

Another silence filled the room.

"Not quite what I would have expected," Hardcastle said.

"After Deirdre, you mean?" Gideon tasted the rich port and studied the elegantly chased silver candlesticks in front of him. "I am six years older now, sir. And for all my faults, I rarely make the same mistake twice."

Hardcastle grunted. "You mean this time you had the decency to do the right thing?"

Gideon's hand tightened around the stem of his glass. "No, sir. I mean that this time I found a woman I could trust."

The silence swept back into the dining room.

"Your lady certainly seems to trust you," Hardcastle muttered.

"Yes. It is a very enjoyable experience. It has been a long while since anyone has trusted me."

"Well, what the devil did you expect after that business with Deirdre?" Hardcastle snapped.

"Trust."

Hardcastle slammed his palm down on the table, causing the wineglasses to jump. "The girl was pregnant when she died. You broke off the engagement just before she shot herself. She told her father you cast her off after forcing yourself on her. What were we all to think?"

"That mayhap she lied."

"Why should she have lied? She was planning to kill herself, for God's sake. She had nothing left to lose."

"I do not know what her reasoning was. She was not rational when she came to me that last time. She…" Gideon stopped.

There was no point trying to explain what Deirdre had been like on that night. He had realized at once that something was wrong when she suddenly became bent on seducing him.

After months of showing no response to his tentative and extremely chaste kisses, she had suddenly thrown herself at him. There had been a wild air of desperation about her. Gideon knew somehow that she had been with another man.

When he had confronted her with his suspicions, she had flown into a rage. Her words still rang in his ears.

Yes, there is someone else. And I am glad you did not put your great, ugly hands on me, you monstrous creature. I do not think I could have borne your touch. I could not have stood the sight of your hideous face looming over me. Did you really believe I wanted you to make love to me? Did you really think I wanted to marry you? It was my father who made me accept your suit.

The earl swallowed a great gulp of port. "If there had been another man, why would she not have confessed it? Left a note to that effect or some such thing. Damnation, man. Do you have any notion of how hard your poor mother worked to convince herself Deirdre had allowed herself to be seduced by someone else? But the facts spoke for themselves."

"Perhaps we should discuss another topic," Gideon suggested.

"Damn you, my one and only grandchild died with Deirdre Rushton."

Gideon's self-control snapped. "No, goddammit, that was not your grandchild who died with Deirdre. It was someone else's grandchild. The babe was not mine. "

"Gideon, for God's sake, be careful with that wineglass."

"For the last time," Gideon said with a snarl, "I swear to you on my honor, even though I know you do not think me honorable, that I did not take Deirdre Rushton. I never touched her. She could not abide my touch, if you must know the damned truth. She made that quite clear."

With a tremendous effort of will, Gideon regained his control. He put down the wineglass with great care. His father was eying him warily.

"Mayhap you are right," Hardcastle said. "Mayhap we should discuss another topic."

"Yes." Gideon took a calming breath. "I apologize for the theatrics, sir. One would think that after all these years I would have learned the futility of such tactics. You may blame it on my wife. She is forever complaining that I do not explain myself." He smiled grimly. "But you see what happens when I do. No one believes me."

"Except your wife?" Hardcastle suggested coolly.

"She believed in my innocence before I bothered to explain," Gideon said, not without a surge of deep satisfaction. "In fact, I have never told her the whole story. Yet she stood in the middle of a crowded ballroom and announced to the Polite World that it was obvious Deirdre's babe had someone other than me for its father."