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“Congratulations,” William offered, lifting his glass in a toast.
He’d never thought to see his friend this contented with his marriage. At first, the earl had seemed aloof, like it hardly mattered that he’d found himself a bride. Then a little more than a year ago, something between Wycliffe and his countess had changed, and the damn earl now wore his heart on his sleeve for his darling wife and the entiretonto see.
William stared at the amber liquid in his glass. He could not imagine owning such affections and emotions for another that he would be unable to hide it. Wycliffe cleared his throat, and William glanced up, arching a brow at his friend’s expression. “Has someone died?”
Wycliffe grinned. “No. But there is some curiosity about you and Lady Phillipa.”
For a moment, William’s mind blanked. “Good God, curiosity from whom? I only recently met the chit.”
“My countess,” the earl said with a mild grimace. “And the scandal sheets if you would be bothered to read them. You danced with the young lady last night, and everyone took notice. Rightly, my wife who swears you are a rogue no lady of decent quality should be around.”
“I am wounded, truly,” William said with a dry bite. “Has not the countess forgiven me for encouraging you to take a mistress, when you were clearly unhappy?”
“No.” Wycliffe laughed. “Though I should thank you. It was because she overheard you urging me to take a mistress that she decided to seduce me. It worked splendidly, hmm?”
William made a noncommittal grunt low in his throat. “Your countess has no need to worry concerning my intention with Lady Pippa. I have none.”
Wycliffe said nothing to that, yet an odd smile hovered about his mouth. A slight air of unease went through William.
“What the hell is that smile about?”
“I saw you when you danced with her,” the earl said, eyeing him contemplatively. “You looked…awed.”
Those words shot through him like a damn arrow. “She is too damn young—” he began tightly.
“According to my wife, Lady Pippa recently turned one and twenty.”
Hell. William raked his fingers across his arm, a cross between a sigh and a snarl exploding from him. He closed his eyes briefly and took a steady breath, sucking deep inside these jumbled feelings twisting through him. “Her age is neither here nor there. I will discuss her no more. Come, let me show you the information on the stud farm I mean to purchase.”
Wycliffe merely arched a brow and dutifully followed William from the study.
Bloody hell. I really need to stay damn well away from her.
* * *
“The Marquess of Trent?”
“Yes,” Pippa said, glaring at Agatha. “Must you shout his name?”
Her friend lowered the rapier and glanced at their fencing master, Monsieur Jean-Phillipe Lambert. He had only given them a ten-minute break from their lessons, and they used that time to quickly drink some water and catch up on gossip from last evening’s ball. “My voice was perfectly modulated with the correct blend of surprise and demureness,” Agatha muttered. “I do not think Monsieur Lambert overheard.”
They dissolved into laughter, and Pippa set down her rapier and rotated her shoulder with a sigh. Their fencing lesson today had been invigorating and challenging, Monsieur Lambert was pushing them to their limits.
Using a scented towel, Harriet dabbed the sweat from her brow. “Just so I did not mistake what you said, Pippa, you were alone with the marquess, and hekissedyou?”
“Must I repeat everything,” Pippa groused, then grinned, truly delighted at the memory.
“Oh, dear,” Agatha said, vigorously fanning herself. “The man is reputed to be a right rogue! How could you have allowed it?”
Heat crawled over Pippa’s skin, and she knew she blushed. “Someone did dare me to ask him for a dance.”
Harriet scowled. “I meant for you to ask someone interesting enough to sweep you off your feet in a waltz, not a scoundrel who would whisk you outside to a secluded spot and ravish you enough so that your mouth is still swollen hours later.”
Pippa groaned and snuck another peek at their fencing master to see if he overheard their conversation. He seemed to be very engaged with a pamphlet he read. “The marquess did not ravish me. That suggested I handed over my virtue.”
“Why do I hear regret as if you wanted to do that,” Agatha cried.
“His kiss was glorious,” Pippa said cheekily.
