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forgotten why you’re here?”Because your husband stole your property to gain money to pay his gambling debts?
    He was right, of course. Everything she’d thought about Philip had been turned on its ear since his death.
    “I should have shot you when I had the chance,” she mumbled.
    “So you really did fire at Byrne?” Lady Iversley’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.
    “She put one hole in my cabriolet and one in my hat,” Mr. Byrne said.
    “For all the good it did. He kept riding toward the house, cool as you please. You’d think people shot at him every day.”
    “They do,” he said. When she glanced at him, startled, he had the audacity to wink at her. “You’d be surprised how many dishonorable gentlemen roam London. But that’s never stopped me from getting what I want.”
    His gaze dropped to her mouth, and a delicious shiver swept down her spine. Blast him. How could she be attracted to this unrepentant devil?
    She sighed. How could she not? Women leaped into his bed for good reason. Look at him—he was built for the bedroom, with his tousled hair and night blue eyes and that cocky smile promising paradise in his arms.
    She jerked her gaze from his. Paradise, hah! Men didn’t give women paradise. Not a lasting paradise, anyway.
    But as the dessert course replaced the dishes of sautéed this and fricasseed that, she couldn’t take her mind from Mr. Byrne.
    Her mission would be so much easier if she understood him. But he differed markedly from the bluff foot soldiers, courteous officers, and practical field physicians she’d grown up with. Even on Philip’s estate, Rosevine, the men had been easy to read, their roles simple to define. Everything about Mr. Byrne unsettled her. She’d always been a good woman. Unsophisticated, unfashionably forthright, but good.
    He made her want to be bad.
    She stiffened her spine. Surely she wasn’t fool enough to fall prey to a charming scoundrelagain . Lady Draker daintily dabbed custard from her lips, then cleared her throat. “Have you been in town long, Lady Haversham?”
    Christabel stabbed a stewed plum. “Just a few days.” Long enough to answer His Highness’s summons and discuss what to do about the politically sensitive letters Lord Stokely had bought from Philip. The Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html ones that would destroy her family if she didn’t get them back.
    “Then Katherine and I can show you the latest amusements.” Lady Draker flashed her a cheery smile.
    “When were you last in town?”
    “It’s been years.” When that seemed to startle her hostess, she added, “My mother died when I was young, so I grew up traveling with Papa and the army. That’s where I met my husband.”
    “The marquess?” Lady Iversley said, sounding surprised.
    “He was just a second son then, with a lieutenant’s commission. He inherited the title and estate after his elder brother died unexpectedly in our sixth year of marriage. That’s when we returned to England.”
    “How long ago was that?” Lady Draker asked.
    “Four years.”
    “Go on with you!” Lord Draker exclaimed. “Ten years married? You couldn’t be a day over twenty-five.”
    She laughed, flattered in spite of herself. “I married young, but notthat young. I’m nearly thirty.”
    “A very youthful thirty,” Mr. Byrne put in, the faintest hint of a soft Irish burr humming along her senses.
    “Yet you never came with the marquess to kick up your heels in town.”
    “There was so much to do at Rosevine that I spent all my time there.” Let them think what they would. Her life with Philip—which, in their final years, was mostly spent without Philip—was private. “Of course, now that Philip’s cousin has inherited the estate and the title, I’m no longer mistress there. Fortunately, the new Lord Haversham allowed me to remain until he took up residence recently. Even then, he was generous enough to let me use the town house for