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his eyes narrowed just a fraction as he gazed at her shielded face. “Your secret is safe here.”
    “Very well.” Caroline lifted off her hat and veil and set them aside, smoothing her hair with fingers that trembled only slightly. She was the amused one when she saw the shock on both their faces. The room was silent.
    It was a testament to her reputation. She was supposed to be icily formal and unattainable, not a woman who arranged meetings in disreputable taverns.
    How often, she wondered, was either of them at a loss for words?
    Rarely, if she had to guess.
    “Lady Wynn.” It was Rothay who recovered first, but still he stared at her, his wineglass dangling from long fingers. “I admit I am surprised.”
    She felt a small nervous smile twitch her lips. “In a good way, Your Grace, or in an unpleasant one?”

Chapter Four
    N ow, this was an unexpected development indeed. Of all the faces he’d thought he might see behind that veil, Caroline Wynn’s was not one of them. Nicholas had considered at length which of the ladies of his acquaintance might contemplate participation in their outrageous little rivalry, but the woman sitting across the table never occurred to him.
    Yet there she was, with a slight lift to one of her auburn brows at his astounded expression, just a hint of amusement in those much talked about, magnificent silver eyes. The seedy little inn indicated her serious approach to the matter, but he still found it hard to believe she was the one who’d sent that provocative note.
    The beautiful young widow of the late Lord Wynn had a reputation for being aloof to the point of discouraging even the most determined of suitors. He knew her only in passing, but yes, she was right, both he and Derek had been introduced to her at some point. Her cool, withdrawn exterior sent an obvious message to any predatory male that she was hardly interested in an entanglement, so he had merely admired her undeniable loveliness and dismissed any idea of further acquaintance. Besides, she was younger than the sophisticated ladies he usually took to bed, and still very marriageable. If he could recall correctly, she’d been wedded to the viscount for several years before he suddenly died, and then in mourning for even longer than necessary, but still she was probably at most twenty-three, if not a bit younger.
    Definitely still marriageable. Lushly attractive—it went without saying—but dangerous to any man who valued his independence.
    Which he did. Maybe independence was the wrong choice of word. What he valued was slightly more complex.
    Nicholas felt a flicker of alarm. He sought something diplomatic to say. “My lady, you are very lovely, of course, so the surprise is hardly a bad one, but this does seem a bit reckless in your situation.”
    Derek had a bemused expression on his face. Nicholas could only imagine the same thoughts were running through his friend’s mind at an equally swift pace. Derek said, “Er . . . I agree. I have no objection, believe me, but you shouldn’t—”
    “Squander my virtue?” she interrupted, demurely lowering her long lashes. Her eyes were truly a remarkable color, not pale blue but actually a pure gray. Auburn hair, rich and glossy, glowed against her pale flawless skin. Her striking beauty made the squalid room look even more drab, more deplorable. Slender fingers held the stem of a wineglass. “Please remember, gentlemen, I am a widow. My virtue has already been squandered.”
    An interesting way of describing one’s marriage, Nicholas couldn’t help but think. He took a drink from his own glass and tried to analyze how he felt about this twist to the situation. “You’re very young. You will most likely marry again. I doubt your future husband would approve of your involvement in this little wager.”
    “Your Grace, I have no intention of ever marrying again. I don’t have to wed, as I am self-sufficient financially, and if I ever should remarry, it would be none