had been alive, Megs had always been a bit daunted by the viscount and his extravagant beauty. Too, he was considered a dangerous rake by society, and as an unmarried lady, it was in her reputation’s best interest to stay well away from his path.
For a matron, though, it was an entirely different matter.
Marriage did have some advantages, Megs thought rather bitterly. She could flirt discreetly with rakes—when all she really wanted to do was continue her argument with Godric.
As if the thought had conjured her husband, Godric suddenly appeared in the crowd, making his way toward them, his face grim. Megs lifted her chin and deliberately turned to Lord d’Arque. “It’s been an age since I’ve seen you, my lord.”
“Any time away from such a lovely lady is an eternity,” Lord d’Arque said gallantly, lowering his eyelashes and then glancing back up into her eyes.
Had he been looking down her bodice? The man really was deliciously terrible. She smiled. “I believe we have a mutual friend—or had one.”
The cynical smile didn’t leave his face, but his eyes seemed to grow wary. “Indeed?”
“Yes.” Roger and she had kept their love affair secret. At the time it had seemed to make everything more magical. They’d just been on the point of announcing their engagement when Roger had … She inhaled, unable to keep her lips from drooping. “Roger Fraser-Burnsby.”
Lord d’Arque’s beautiful gray eyes sharpened.
“Punch,” murmured Godric at her elbow, making her start ungracefully.
“Oh.” Megs blinked, turning to see that her placid husband seemed to have acquired daggers for eyes—and they were aimed at Lord d’Arque. If looks could kill, Lord d’Arque would be a writhing, bloody mess on the earl’s pink marble floor.
Well, this is interesting. She really ought to be contrite. Poor, darling Lord d’Arque hadn’t done a thing besides act the rake he’d apparently been born. It wasn’t his fault that she’d flirted outrageously with him, triggering his rakish instincts. But there was something terribly satisfying at seeing her husband mentally slaughter another man on her behalf.
She beamed at Godric as she accepted the cup of punch.
Godric narrowed his eyes at her before focusing his gaze on the viscount. “D’Arque.”
The viscount’s lips twitched, though it could hardly be called a smile. “St. John. I’ve just been … chatting with your exquisite wife. I must tell you that you have far more fortitude than I.”
“Indeed? Why?”
Lord d’Arque widened his eyes innocently. “Oh, because I’d never be able to banish such a lovely lady so far away in the country. I’d want to keep her by my side—day and, especially, night.”
Does he practice his silly words in front of a mirror? It was really too bad—both what d’Arque was implying and how much Megs was enjoying Godric’s reaction. But she should stop this. She really should.
Megs opened her mouth.
Her husband was already speaking. “I’m surprised, sir. I would’ve thought that there’d be no room by your side at any time—but especially at night.”
A deep chuckle came from beside Megs. She turned and saw a striking gentleman with silver hair clubbed back by a black bow.
He caught her eye and bowed even as Lord d’Arque made some retort to her husband involving celibacy. “Lady Margaret. I hope you don’t think me bold to introduce myself. I am Caire.”
Of course, Lord Caire. He’d once been almost as notorious as Lord d’Arque.
Megs sank into a curtsy. “It’s an honor, Lord Caire. I count your wife as one of my very good friends.”
“Hmm.” A smile still played about Lord Caire’s wide mouth as Godric made a comment about the pox to Lord d’Arque. “Temperance and I regretted not attending your wedding, but we understood it to be a small, family affair. St. John and I have known each other for years.”
“Have you?” Megs darted a worried glance at Godric and the viscount. At least they hadn’t come to blows yet. Although if they did, and over her, that would certainly make this ball very interesting.
Oh, she was wicked! “You must think me a terrible flirt.”
“Not at all,” Lord Caire murmured gently. “In fact, this is the most animated I’ve seen St. John in years.” His eyes were a little sad, but then he caught her gaze and his lips quirked. “High choler is good for a man once in a while. I do hope you plan to stay in London.”
Megs bit her lip at that, for she hadn’t planned to stay past getting herself pregnant. The fact was that she loved Laurelwood. Country life suited