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find nothing amiss, or snakelike. He was immaculately groomed, in stovepipe trousers, a high, starched cravat, and he had a small, linked chain draped to the monocle in his breast pocket.
    “My lady, you eclipse the stars.”
    Elise tipped her head and glanced up at him. “I haven’t forgiven you yet, Roald. Pray don’t force it.”
    “I’m but a mere man, and such a lowly creature can never take note in the radiance cast from your own beauty.”
    Elise winced. “Pray don’t bore me with such prose tonight.”
    “When should a man speak such things, then?”
    “When they’re requested, of course. Why look, there’s Lady Beth. She does look spectacular, doesn’t she?”
    “You expect me to take note of other women when I’ve the most ethereal creature in the country at my elbow?” he asked.
    “I’m warning you, Roald.”
    He sighed in an exaggerated fashion, then turned to look at their host’s mistress. Lady Beth was graced with a complexion as pale as ivory, a font of light, auburn hair, and black eyelashes. That was a combination nature would never have gifted her with. Elise knew Lady Beth had liberally rubbed her lashes with watered-down soot to get such an effect. Elise knew because she wasn’t above such artifice herself.
    Lady Beth was wearing a peach gown and a resplendent, three-strand pearl necklace that must have set Barrigan back a few pounds. Elise wondered what Lady Beth’s husband would think of his wife’s new acquisition. Then she wondered, for the thousandth time, why she cared about such things.
    “Bloody fortune on her, isn’t it?”
    Roald’s venomous whisper startled her. “Don’t begrudge it, Roald. Harry seems happy enough.”
    “Some women expect payment for services rendered. I’m in luck with you, am I not?”
    Elise sucked in the gasp. “You dare much with such words.”
    He shrugged, and the tightness of his coat barely allowed the movement. Elise looked away. He was rapidly losing his attractiveness to her, if he’d ever had any.
    “I’ve not much to lose, have I?” he asked.
    “Sir Roald ... Easton, is na’ it?”
    Colin MacGowan loomed right beside them and introduced himself. Elise guessed he’d been eavesdropping on their whispered conversation. She felt, rather than saw, Roald stiffen.
    “MacGowan, I’m debating whether to shake your hand or call for my seconds.” Roald tipped his head to look up at the other man.
    “Seconds? A duel? Over her?” the duke asked, motioning with his head toward Elise.
    Roald nodded.
    “Why shake, of course. I’ve nae desire to kill a man when there’s nae honor at stake.”
    Elise watched them clasp hands with a detached sense of fascination as to why Roald would put his fingers through the torment of such a wrenching handhold. She watched his fingers whiten, and then watched his jaw as he gritted his teeth. Then MacGowan released him.
    Roald put the injured limb inside his jacket lapel, as though it belonged there. Elise was very close to rolling her eyes.
    “I believe the lady shall be accompanying me to sup this eve. You may need to seek an assist with that hand, Easton. Lady Elise? Your servant.” He was holding out an arm, awaiting her.
    “Oh dear, you’ve learned my name. I’m not at all certain that’s a good thing, Your Grace.”
    He grinned, completely opening a hole in the floor in front of her; then he winked, making it worse.

 
    Chapter 4
     
    There was something about this Scottish duke fellow, something Elise couldn’t put her finger on. Just being next to him was the strangest experience. Everything sounded and looked more vivid, crisp, and bright, and felt more alive. Elise couldn’t credit what it was, and she spent more than a bit of time trying to decipher it as they sat in a strangely companionable silence. It was as if someone had put magnifying glasses to her nose and she was looking through them at everything.
    The first course was some molded confection made of salad greens in a