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unrelenting gray eerily flat of expression, or rather, she thought, the color, like silver gone to tarnish, made them impervious to reflection of his interior thoughts.
    â€œTommy failed to mention his wife lived here.”
    If she’d been in a better mood, Sophie would have laughed. The man actually sounded personally affronted to have found her here. “Since my husband did not warn me of his arrival, let alone that he would be bringing guests, we are equally inconvenienced, wouldn’t you agree?”
    Some emotion, quite possibly irritation, flickered over his face but was quickly tucked away behind the coldness of his eyes. “Touché, Mrs. Evans. May I ask where your esteemed husband has gone?”
    She pictured Tommy, flat on his back and gently snoring. “He is ... asleep, sir.”
    â€œAh.”
    â€œI am at a disadvantage,” she said, lifting her lamp. His hair flashed blue black in the light. “You know who I am, while I have no names to put to you or your companion.”
    He bowed, though Sophie had the impression he had to concentrate to perform the motion. So he was drunk. “Lord Banallt, at your service, ma’am.”
    Her heart stuttered at the familiar name. Lord Banallt. The universe was perverse indeed. Of all the noblemen Tommy might have brought home, he’d brought this one. A man who could buy and sell Tommy twice over. A man whose name she’d grown up hearing and about whom she had made up all manner of silly, romantic fantasies. “The Earl of Banallt?” she asked. As if he could be any other.
    â€œThe very same, ma’am.” Lord Banallt put his arm around the woman again and walked her away to whisper in her ear. Sophie’s hearing, however, was excellent, and Lord Banallt’s voice was not as low as he likely fancied. “Forgive me, kitten. Maeve,” he murmured. Sophie heard the drink in his low, soft voice. But with that smoky note, no wonder Maeve was melting against him. “You cannot stay here.” She made a sound of protest and squirmed into his embrace. “My love, my heart. She’s Tommy’s wife. I’m desolate, I promise you.” He kissed the top of her bare shoulder. “King will drive you to the nearest inn.”
    Sophie’s practical nature took over. “It’s too late at night to send her away, my lord.”
    Lord Banallt lifted his head and looked at her, surprise etched on his face. And yet she saw nothing in his eyes. Nothing at all. She shuddered to think of the kind of life that gave a man such empty eyes.
    She walked past them and opened the door to one of the other bedrooms. “You’ll both need rooms, of course,” she said.
    â€œYou are most gracious, Mrs. Evans.” Lord Banallt bowed.
    â€œSeparate rooms,” she said to forestall any chance he thought she condoned that sort of behavior under her roof. “Ma‘am?” She looked at Maeve and prayed she would not object to being separated from her lover. What was Tommy thinking, bringing Lord Banallt and this woman here to Rider Hall? But then she remembered the perfume on Tommy’s clothes, and she was angry twice over. “My apologies. There was not time to air the room.” She went inside with Maeve. The earl followed, which worried her. She had no intention of letting him stay. While she lit another lamp, however, Lord Banallt made himself useful and started a fire in the hearth. She was surprised he knew how. “I’ll send my girl to help you, ma’am,” she told Maeve.
    â€œThank you,” said Maeve. She spoke in a cultured voice, in the accent of a woman who’d been respectably reared, yet she was certainly not sober. Lord Banallt had brought an expensive whore with him. Into her home. Her heart contracted to think of Tommy spending time in the company of a man who kept women like Maeve in gowns that cost the very moon and stars. “You’re