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he knew Valentin had returned. The office hummed with purpose. Even Anthony sat at his allocated desk and appeared to be working. Peter nodded a greeting to Taggart and hastened to his office to hang up his cloak and hat.
    To his surprise, Valentin was already ensconced in his chair. Peter grimaced as he spied his old friend.
    “I know. I’m late. I had a rather riotous night.”
    He’d left Madame Helene’s at six that morning after his long night with James. They’d spent hours talking interspersed with the most intense sexual encounters of his life. Something about James’s honesty appealed to Peter. It was rare to meet a man who was so comfortable about his sexuality, a man who’d had the courage to discuss his needs with his wife and remain her friend.
    Valentin stubbed out his cigar. “I’m not your father. You don’t need to explain yourself to me.”
    Peter paused as he approached the desk. “Then why do I feel as if I have to? And why are you sitting at my desk with your feet up? Is there something wrong with your own office?”
    Valentin chuckled. “Now who sounds like a parent? Which question would you like me to answer first?”
    Peter studied his friend. Despite the shadows under Valentin’s extraordinary violet eyes, he looked his usual dapper self. His long dark hair was tied neatly at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon, and his blue coat looked as if it had just left the hands of his tailor.
    “Is there something wrong?” Peter repeated the question, his gaze fixed on Valentin’s face. “When I left the office yesterday, everything seemed to be fine.”
    Valentin made a dismissive gesture. “The business is running perfectly. Taggart gave me your latest letter this morning. I understand the bank has proved amenable to our loan requests and that financially we are stable for the foreseeable future.”
    Peter dropped into the chair in front of his desk. “Then why are you here? I wasn’t expecting to see you for at least another two weeks.”
    Valentin’s eyebrows rose. “Am I not welcome, then?”
    For a brief second, Peter closed his eyes. Sometimes talking to Valentin was like straying into a maze.
    “Val…”
    “This is not about the business. It is something more personal.” Valentin got up and began to pace the worn floor-boards.
    Had Val already heard rumors about Peter and Lord Beecham? It seemed unlikely, but Peter knew Val had excellent sources. Sudden doubt assailed him. What if James Beecham had been lying after all and had spent the morning Peter slept away gossiping to the polite world about Peter’s sexuality?
    Val cast him a speculative look. “What’s the matter, Peter? You look guilty. What have you been up to while I was away?” He stopped pacing and clasped his hands behind his back.
    Peter concentrated on appearing relaxed. and keeping his mouth shut He was unlikely to fool Val, who had seen him in every extremity, but he was determined to make the effort. Val swung back round to face him.
    “It’s Sara.”
    Peter sat up straight. “Something’s wrong with Sara?” No wonder Val was agitated. His wife was the center of his world.
    Val’s answering smile was crooked. “There is nothing wrong with her, but she is in an ‘interesting condition’.”
    “Sara’s pregnant?”
    Peter shot to his feet and drew Valentin into a close embrace. For once his friend didn’t resist. When Peter drew back he studied Val’s face.
    “Aren’t you pleased?”
    “Of course I’m pleased.” Val’s arrogant expression softened. “In truth, I’m ecstatic. Sara’s not feeling quite so thrilled at the moment. She’s unwell.”
    “I hear that’s usual in the early months.”
    Valentin looked quizzical. “And you know that how?”
    Peter sat back down. “Women talk to me about everything. Apparently I have a sympathetic face.”
    Val snorted as he leaned up against the desk, his troubled gaze still fixed on Peter.
    “What is it, Val?” Peter leaned forward