At the top of the stairs Harry turned and walked down the hall to the schoolroom door. He opened it quietly.

Clarissa glanced up, frowning. "Good afternoon, my lord. I did not realize you would be visiting today."

Harry heard the distinct lack of welcome in her tone and decided to ignore it. He knew he was not particularly welcome anywhere in the house lately. "I had a spare moment and decided to see how the painting lessons are going."

"I see. Meredith has started early today. Her ladyship will be along in a moment to take over instruction, as usual."

Meredith looked up from her watercolors. Her eyes brightened for an instant and then she looked away. "Hello, Papa."

"Continue with your work, Meredith. I only want to observe for a while."

"Yes, Papa."

Harry watched her select a new color for her brush. Meredith moistened the bristles carefully and put down a great wash of black paint on the pristine white paper.

Harry realized it was the first time he had ever seen his daughter select such a dark backdrop for her work. The paintings that showed up regularly now in the picture gallery were generally bright, energetic creations that glowed with sunny colors.

"Is that going to be a picture of Graystone at night, Meredith?" Harry went forward to examine the painting in more detail.

"Yes, Papa."

"I see. It will be rather dark, will it not?"

"Yes, Papa. Augusta says I must paint whatever I feel like painting."

"And you feel like painting a dark picture today, even though it is sunny outside?"

"Yes, Papa."

Harry's jaw tightened. Even Meredith was being affected by the silent warfare in the household. And it was all Augusta 's fault. "Perhaps we should take advantage of the beautiful day outside. I shall send around to the stables to have your pony saddled. We shall ride to the stream this afternoon. Would you like that?"

Meredith glanced up quickly, her eyes uncertain. "Can Augusta come with us?"

"We can ask her," Harry said, wincing inwardly. He had no doubt about Augusta's response. She would politely decline, of course. She had somehow managed to ensure that she spent no time in Harry's company during the past two days except at the dining table. "She may have other plans for the afternoon, Meredith."

"As it happens," Augusta said calmly from the doorway, "I have no other plans. I should very much enjoy riding to the stream."

Meredith brightened at once. "That will be fun. I shall go and change into my new riding habit." She glanced quickly at Clarissa. "May I be excused, Aunt Clarissa?"

Clarissa nodded with regal approval. "Yes, of course, Meredith."

Harry turned slowly to meet Augusta's eyes. She inclined her head politely.

"If you will excuse me, my lord, I, too, must change. Meredith and I shall join you downstairs shortly."

Now, what the devil is this all about? Harry wondered as he watched her disappear after Meredith. On the other hand, perhaps he should not inquire too closely.

"I do hope you enjoy your ride with her ladyship and Miss Meredith, sir," Clarissa said very primly.

"Thank you, Clarissa. I am sure I shall."

Just as soon as I find out what Augusta is up to now, Harry added silently as he left the schoolroom.

Half an hour later Harry was still waiting for an answer to his silent questions. Meredith's mood, at least, had lightened into one of childish enthusiasm. She looked adorable in her small hunter-green riding habit, which was identical to the one Augusta was wearing, right down to the jaunty little plumed hat perched atop her gleaming curls.

Harry watched his daughter urge her dappled gray pony ahead down the lane and then he gave Augusta a considering glance.

"I am pleased you were able to accompany us this afternoon, madam," he said, determined to break the silence.

Augusta sat gracefully in the sidesaddle, her gloved hands elegant on the reins. "I thought it would be good for your daughter to get some fresh air. The house has become rather stifling of late, has it not?"

Harry cocked a brow. "Yes, it has."

Augusta bit her lip and flicked him a quick, questioning glance. "Oh, devil take it, my lord, you must know why I agreed to come along today."

"No, madam, I do not. Do not mistake me, I am pleased you chose to accompany us, but I certainly do not pretend to understand why you did so."

She sighed. "I have decided to turn Richard's poem over to you."

A surging sense of relief swept over Harry. He very nearly reached out and pulled Augusta off her horse and onto his lap. But he managed to resist the urge. He really was becoming far too prone to act on impulse lately. He must watch the tendency.

"Thank you, Augusta. May I ask what changed your mind?" He waited tensely for the response.

"I have done a great deal of thinking about the matter and I realize I have very little choice. As you have pointed out on numerous occasions, it is my duty as your wife to obey you."

"I see." Harry was silent for a long moment, much of his relief turning sour. "I am sorry you are guided only by duty, madam."

She frowned. "What else would you have me guided by, if not duty?"

"A sense of trust, perhaps?"

She inclined her head politely. "There is that. I have concluded that you will keep your word. You said you would not expose my brother's secrets to the world and I believe you."

Harry, who was not accustomed to having his word questioned in the first place, not even for a moment, could not quite squelch his irritation. "It took you nearly three full days to conclude you could trust my oath, madam?"

She sighed. "No, Harry. I trusted your word from the start. If you must have the truth, that was never really the problem. You are a very honorable man. Everyone knows that."

"Then what was the problem?" he demanded roughly.

Augusta kept her eyes focused between her mare's ears. "I was afraid, my lord."

"Afraid of what, for God's sake? Of what you might learn about your brother?" It took all his willpower to keep his voice low so that Meredith would not overhear.

"Not precisely. I do not doubt my brother's innocence for a moment. But I was anxious about what you would think of me if, after reading that poem, you somehow conclude that Richard was guilty of treason."

Harry stared at her. "Damnation, Augusta. You believed I would think less of you because of something I concluded your brother might have done?"

"I am a Northumberland Ballinger, too, my lord," she pointed out in a strained voice. "If you believed one of us was capable of treason, you might very well question the integrity of others in my family."

"You thought I might question your integrity?" He was appalled at the workings of her mind.

She sat very straight in the saddle. "I am aware that you already believe me to be sadly frivolous and inclined toward mischief as it is. I did not want you to question my honor, as well. We are bound together for life, my lord. It will be a very long and difficult road ahead for both of us if you think all Northumberland Ballingers lacking in honor."

"Devil take it, madam, 'tis not honor you lack, but intellect." Harry halted his horse and reached out to sweep Augusta off the sidesaddle.

"Harry."

"Were all the members of the Northumberland side of the family so singularly obtuse? I can only hope it does not run in the blood."

He pulled her across his thighs and kissed her soundly. The heavy skirts of her riding habit swung against his stallion's sides, causing the animal to prance. Harry tightened his hand on the reins without lifting his mouth from Augusta's.

"Harry, my horse," Augusta gasped when she could. She clutched at her outrageous little green hat. "She will wander off."

"Papa? Papa, what are you doing to Augusta?" Meredith's voice was thin with anxiety as she jogged back toward her father.

"I am kissing your mother, Meredith. See to her mare, will you? We do not want her to run off."

"Kissing her?" Meredith's eyes widened. "Oh, I see. Do not worry about Augusta's mare, Papa. I will catch her."

Harry was not in the least concerned about the mare, which had only wandered as far as the nearest clump of grass. All he really cared about at the moment was getting Augusta into bed. The battle had only lasted two nights and three days, but that was definitely two nights and three days too long.

"Harry, really. You must put me down at once. Whatever will Meredith think?" Augusta glowered up at him as she lay cradled in his arms.

"Since when did you become so concerned with the proprieties, madam wife?"

"They have been increasingly on my mind since I became the mother of a daughter," Augusta grumbled.

Harry roared with laughter.

Harry opened the door to Augusta's bedchamber later that night and found her sitting at her dressing table. Her maid had just finished preparing her mistress for bed.

"That will be all, Betsy," Augusta said, her eyes riveted to Harry's in the mirror.

"Yes, ma'am. Good night, sir." Betsy's eyes held a pleased, knowing expression as she made her curtsy and let herself out the door.

Augusta got to her feet with a tentative smile. Her wrapper fell open and Harry saw that her nightdress was made of sheerest muslin. He could see her soft breasts swelling against the gossamer fabric. When he allowed his gaze to wander lower, he saw the dark, triangular shadow that crowned her thighs. Suddenly he was achingly aware of his arousal.