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not argue. Beatrice in particular has a tremendous knack for the gathering part.”
    Damned if that wasn’t the truth. “Yes, and the twins specialize in the distribution.”
    “Distribution of what?” Evie asked as she came to join them. It was odd seeing her in formal dress again, which she hadn’t worn since Emma’s birth some four months ago.
    “Charm,” Richard said with a wink, brushing a kiss on her cheek as she went to sit by her husband. “Just like their brother.”
    “So charming you almost managed to have yourself thrown in gaol?” Amusement lit her silvery gaze.
    “So charming that I talked myself out of being thrown in gaol.”
    “Oh, is that what happened? Well, perhaps I should hear the whole sordid tale from the horse’s mouth.”
    It was probably for the best—God only knew how much the tale had been mangled in the retelling. Handing Benedict his scotch, Richard downed his own in one swallow before recounting the events of the morning. Even as he tried to remain neutral in his account, fresh irritation welled up within him.
    By the end of the story, Evie’s expression had changed from one of amusement to sympathy as she shook her head slowly, her brows drawn. Finally, someone who was on his side. He knew he liked her for a reason.
    At least he thought he did, until she opened her mouth.
    “That poor woman. She must have been terrified. And then to have realized the man she called the watch on was not only trying to help her, but was an earl as well.” She put a hand to her heart. “She must have been completely mortified.”
    The tips of Richard’s ears grew hot. “Not bloody likely,” he mumbled, more to himself than anything.
    “What do you mean, ‘not bloody likely’?”
    “She also told the men, who kindly released me, that it didn’t matter if I was an earl; I had still attacked her cousin and she wanted me arrested.”
    “She didn’t!”
    “I assure you she did.”
    At least now he had properly shocked them. Shaking her head, Evie rose and walked to his side, placing a conciliatory hand on his shoulder. “The poor old dear had just endured quite a shock. You must give her the benefit of the doubt.”
    “Poor old de—Evie, she was younger than you are,” he exclaimed. “She knew perfectly well what she was saying.”
    His sister drew back in surprise. All at once her expression cleared and she murmured, “Ohhh . . . now I see.”
    “What do you think you see?”
    “No wonder you are so put out. Your pride is injured. A pretty young woman—”
    “I didn’t say she was pretty,” he grumbled, pushing aside the memory of her flushed cheeks and full lips.
    “You didn’t have to,” she replied smugly. “A pretty young woman publicly embarrassed you and was in no way impressed by your lofty status. It’s all beginning to make sense, now.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    “I’m not being one bit ridiculous. I do believe this is the first time in history a woman has not fallen at your feet, and you are feeling rather put out by the fact.”
    He drew in a breath to defend himself—she might have had the tiniest bit of a point, but he wasn’t about to let her know that—when a scratch at the door interrupted his thought. All three of them looked to the hallway, where Finnington bowed his head. “Pardon me, Lord Raleigh, but a Miss Bunting is here to see you.”
    Bunting? “I don’t know anyone by that name, Finnington. Is she here about the ball?” He glanced to the clock over the mantel. It was only a little after seven, almost an hour before the ball was set to begin.
    “No, my lord,” the butler answered in his regal, measured tones. “I wouldn’t have bothered you, but the young lady asked me to tell you she comes bearing a peace offering, and she hopes your coat was not ruined.” The butler pressed his thin lips together, and Richard had the distinct impression that he was amused.
    “Finnington,” Evie said, a smile growing on her face, “did