maimed appearance had the reaction Win expected. Oz very deliberately did not look at his scars. “Likely you are correct. Pardon my mistake.” He began to ease back as most people did upon being forced to address his maiming.
“No pardon necessary, Your Grace.” Win gave him a tight nod and then slipped away. He did not give a damn if it wasn’t done. Or if the room fell in a dead faint because he’d left before a duke. Isley had found consolation for his father, had he? Forget being ill; Win was going to punch something in a moment.
Poppy caught up to him, her lemon-linen scent soothing him even as she searched his eyes in gentle concern.
“He thought he knew me,” he said. “But he couldn’t make the connection.” With terse words, he told her the rest of the conversation.
“Jesus, Win.” Her lips went pale, and she angled her body as if to block out the rest of the room. That she still sought to protect him made his chest go tight. He did not need it, but the better part of him wanted to be worthy of her devotion.
“I’m all right.” He was. Now that he could touch her and hear the steady cadence of her voice.
“Good.” She leaned closer, her silken cheek near his. “Shall we track down Mrs. Noble? She was headed toward the library when dinner let out.”
It was a strange destination, as most of her guests were going to either the smoking room or the grand parlor. “Let us go then. God help me if Oz shows up there as well.”
The pale arc of Poppy’s neck gleamed in the candlelight as she looked back over her shoulder. “He appears to be heading off to the smoking room with the other gentlemen. I believe we are safe from that fiasco.”
He laughed without humor. “ ‘Fiasco’ is an understatement.”
However, when they reached the library, they found it empty. Poppy’s keen gaze caught his. “Now where do you suppose Mrs. Noble has got off to?”
The answer came by way of a footman, who headed toward them. “Sir, Mrs. Noble has retired for the evening,” he murmured. “She would like to receive you tomorrow for tea.” He bowed neatly and left them standing in the hall.
“Botheration,” Poppy muttered. “I do not want to be here for tea tomorrow. This place feels wrong to me.” Around them, ladies and gentlemen wandered to and fro, laughing and pairing off. A quartet softly played Beethoven in the parlor, and the golden light from hundreds of candles gave the house a muted glow. Music, beauty, laughter. It ought to be soothing and yet Poppy was correct; there was something off about the whole thing this night. What once felt like true gaiety now shone false and brittle, as though Winston was watching a play.
Poppy made a furtive gesture. “Blast it, I could almost believe that woman is toying with us.”
Win frowned in the direction of the stairs. “Mmm. As if she is aware that we are ruled by a time limit, perhaps?”
“Could she be under Isley’s control?”
Still watching the stairs, Win clasped Poppy’s hand in his. “Come. Let us see what we can see.”
Poppy’s voluminous silk train rustled and swayed as they made their way to the second floor where Mrs. Noble’s room lay. Flickering lamplight guided their path. Below, Moonlight Sonata began playing in steady, ponderous notes that spoke of amateur piano lessons.
“Someone’s been practicing,” Poppy murmured as they plodded along to the tune. The notes followed them, rising and crashing. It was almost enough to drown out the rhythmic sound coming from the end of the upper hall. But not quite.
Perched at the top of the stairs, Winston and Poppy exchanged looks. Color crept over Poppy’s high cheeks. “You must be joking.”
Win glanced toward the dim corridor where the unmistakable sounds of sexual congress rang out. “I rather wish it were a joke.”
Cautiously, they moved closer and the sound increased, both in tempo and in fervor.
“Well,” Poppy cleared her throat, her nose wrinkling in a charming manner, “surely they cannot go on for long.”
Knowing that one of the participants was likely Mrs. Noble only served to irritate Win. He scowled at the door from which the sound emerged. “I do not know, sweet. But if Ode to Joy begins to play, I am going to be most thoroughly put out.”
With surprising speed, Poppy pressed her face into his neck and burst out laughing. Her warm breath seeped into him, and he