"The laundress won't be defeated by a little chocolate." Henny bustled over to examine the damage. "Dearie me. it's hardly anything."

"It looks like a lot to me." Juliana said disgustedly. "Perhaps I'd better drink it sitting in a chair." She handed the tray to Henny and jumped out of bed.

"I give you good day, madam wife."

Juliana whirled to the door that had opened without warning. Lucien came into the room. He was fully dressed but looking very disheveled, as if he'd slept in his clothes. He carried a glass of cognac and regarded his wife with a satirical gleam in his bloodshot, hollowed eyes.

"My lord." She took a hasty step backward, catching the hem of her nightgown under her heel.

"Lud, but you seem surprised to see me, my lady. I made sure it was customary for a husband to visit his bride on the morning after their wedding night." He sipped brandy, his eyes mocking her over the rim of his glass. But there was more than mockery in his gaze. There was a touch of repulsion as he examined the shape of her body beneath the fine lawn of her nightgown.

Juliana decided abruptly to return to bed. "You startled me, my lord," she said with as much dignity as she could muster. She climbed back into bed, pulling the covers up to her neck. "Henny, I'll take my chocolate again."

The woman gave her the tray back and curtsied to the viscount. "Should I leave, my lord?"

"No," Juliana said swiftly. "No, there's no need for you to go."

Lucien merely smiled and shrugged. He lounged over to the bed and perched on the end. "So you passed a pleasant evening, I trust." He took a gulp of cognac.

It seemed best to play this straight… behave as if it were a perfectly ordinary conversation with a man who had every right to be where he was. "Yes, thank you, sir. We went to the play and after to Ranelagh." She dunked another biscuit into her cup with what she hoped was an air of insouciance and successfully conveyed it, intact, to her mouth.

"Insipid entertainment!" Lucien's lip curled. "If you really wished to see the town, madam, you should put yourself in my hands."

"I doubt His Grace would approve of such a scheme," she responded, leaning back against the pillows, her eyes suddenly narrowed.

Lucien gave a shout of laughter that disintegrated into another of his violent coughing spasms. He doubled over on the bed, the emaciated body racked as his chest convulsed and he grabbed for air.

"There, there, my lord. Take it easy, now." Henny took the cognac from his hands and stood waiting until the spasms diminished. "Drink it down, sir." She handed it back with the air of one who knew the remedy. Presumably, as an old family retainer, she knew their skeletons.

Lucien drained the glass in one gulp and sighed with relief. "Forgive me, m'dear. An unpleasant habit for a bridegroom." He grinned, and Juliana noticed for the first time that he was missing four of his front teeth. It was hard to pinpoint his age, but even at her most generous estimate, he was too young to be losing teeth to decay.

"Now, what was it you said that made me laugh…? Oh, yes… Tarquin most certainly wouldn't look kindly on my acting as your guide to London life." He chuckled, but carefully this time.

Juliana nodded thoughtfully. It was not difficult to imagine the Duke of Redmayne gnashing his teeth in such a case. Not difficult… indeed, positively delicious… an utterly delectable prospect…

"Good morning, Lady Edgecombe… Ah, Lucien. I see you're paying your bride a morning visit." The Duke of Redmayne materialized from her thoughts. Juliana, startled, turned to the doorway. Tarquin, in a brocade chamber robe, lounged against the doorjamb, but his indolent air was belied by the harsh light in his eyes.

For some reason no one in this household thought it appropriate to knock upon her door, Juliana reflected. "I give you good day, Your Grace." She took another sip of chocolate, trying to appear as if she were perfectly accustomed to entertaining gentlemen in bed in her nightgown. Of course, it was a perfectly appropriate venue for both husbands and lovers, and she had one of each. A bubble of laughter threatened. Hastily she put down her cup and pushed the tray to safety on the far edge of the bed.

"You seem mighty free with my lady's bedchamber, Tarquin," Lucien sneered. "Should I play the outraged husband, I wonder?"

"Don't be a fool." Tarquin looked merely bored by his cousin's barb as he strolled into the room. "I suppose you haven't been to bed as yet?"

"You suppose right, dear boy." Lucien held his empty glass to the light. "Dear me, empty again. I swear the glass must have a leak. D'you still keep a decanter in your room, Redmayne?"

"Go to your own chamber, Lucien," Tarquin instructed in the same bored tone. "Your man is waiting for you, and I'm certain you'll find everything necessary for your comfort."

Lucien yawned profoundly and stood up. "Well, perhaps you're right. Desolated to bring this enchanting little chat to a close, my dear bride."

"I consider it merely postponed, sir."

Tarquin's air of indolent boredom vanished. "I beg your pardon, Juliana?"

Juliana's smile was all innocence. "I merely said I look forward to continuing the discussion with my husband, sir. Is something wrong?"

Tarquin looked so dumbfounded, she was hard-pressed to keep a straight face.

"Can't keep a wife from her lawful husband, y'know, Tarquin," Lucien stated, fumbling with his snuffbox. He had no idea why Juliana should be intent on needling the duke, but he was more than willing to join in the mischief.

Tarquin walked to the door and opened it. "Good day, Lucien."

Lucien looked hurt. "Throwing me out of my own wife's bedchamber, cousin? Seems I have the right to throw you out, not the other way round."

"Get out." The duke's voice was very soft, but the pulse in his temple was throbbing and his nostrils were pinched and white.

Lucien glanced toward Juliana, who, having decided prudently to withdraw from the confrontation, avoided eye contact. She didn't care for the look of the Duke of Redmayne at the moment and was not prepared to provoke him further by obviously aligning herself with the viscount. At least not until she'd formulated a coherent plan.

Lucien shrugged and made for the door, knowing that without an ally he couldn't hold his ground. He wasn't too sure what the issue was anyway, but, surprisingly, it seemed that young Juliana was not a completely compliant participant in the duke's schemes. He offered his cousin a mocking bow as he went past him into the corridor.

"Lady Edgecombe will ring when she needs you, Henny," the duke said curtly, still holding the door.

The abigail bobbed a curtsy, picked up Juliana's neglected chocolate tray, and bustled out.

"Now, just what was all that about?" The duke came over to the bed.

"All what?" Juliana's smile was as innocent as ever. "My husband came to visit me. We were talking."

"I see." Tarquin's eyes searched hers. "Are you throwing down the glove, Juliana?"

"Why ever should I do such a thing?"

"I don't know. But if you are, I should warn you that I will pick it up."

"There would be little point in throwing it, my lord, if you did not. . . . Not," she added sweetly, "that I am, of course."

Tarquin stood frowning at her. She was radiating mischief, vibrating with a current of energy that seemed to make her hair crackle. But he couldn't begin to think what pleasure or point there might be for her in cultivating Lucien, unless it was to annoy Tarquin himself. Deciding not to encourage her by pursuing the subject further, he changed the topic with an amiable smile. "I forgot to tell you last night that you'll probably receive a bridal visit this morning from Lady Lydia Melton and her mother."

"Oh? Your betrothed is very kind," she said distantly.