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appealing.
    Still, she could not step back from seizing the moment.
“You are a man of honor and great passion.” She whispered, lifting her eyes to his, unprepared for the blue fire
that blazed within them.
    “Yes, so you told me once. But that fortune has not
come to pass. You promised me a great passion but I
have yet to find it.” The dangerous glint in his eyes confirmed he knew the proverbial battlefield was shifting
from logic to something else.
    Who was flirting with whom now? She would have to
remind him she was doing the flirting here. Irina traced
a line down his chest with a light finger. She tipped her head backward, letting her train of curls fall down her
back while she looked up at him. “Haven’t you?”

    Desire kindled plainly in his eyes at her suggestion.
She whetted her lips in invitation. To make sure there
was no room for misunderstanding, she stepped into
him, feeling the lightest brush of his lips on hers, catching the scent of wine on his breath, reminiscent of his
elaborate dinner. She fell into the kiss, letting Giles’s
arms take her weight-only they didn’t.
    A man coughed, and then she was falling in an ignominious heap to the floor.
    “Excuse me, Giles.” A smooth voice said from the
doorway unbothered by what he’d interrupted.
    Irina noted it took Giles a moment to gather himself. It
was small satisfaction though when her ankle throbbed
from landing on it. The blackguard had dropped her.
    “Tristan, what can I do for you?”
    The dark viscount lounged dangerously in the doorway, a laugh hovering about his mouth. “I think the better question is what I can do for you. Is everything
alright? I have the room next door. I thought I heard a
heated argument” He raised a challenging eyebrow,
daring any one to contradict his assumptions.
    Irina felt her skin heat. Who knew what else he
guessed at? She was thankful at least for the dim light
which hid the worst of her flush. What awful luck that
Giles’s dear friend was next door. She didn’t miss the
implications of that. The viscount had made it subtly
clear that he would not tolerate his friend being taken
advantage of.

    In her mortification, Irina wanted to shout her virtue
out loud. She had dared a kiss, nothing more.
    “Ahem, Catherine?” Giles looked down at her and offered her a hand up. “Shall we get you settled? I am sure
you’re tired from your delayed journey. I’ll have your
trunk sent to the east wing. There’s a room for you there”
He toed the part of the trunk peeping out from under his
bed. “It seems the footmen brought it to the wrong room”
    The use of her birthname startled her but she saw the
rationale for it. Tristan might recall her from the long
ago night on the Denbigh’s porch. She was not ready to
voice her claims to Giles’s friends. Silently, she thanked
Giles for the kindness.
    A footman arrived, grumpy from being awakened in
the middle of the night and took her trunk. She had no
choice but to follow it to her room, wherever the west
wing was. But she left feeling victorious. She’d won
round one. Giles had accepted the wager. He would read
the diary.
    Giles stood rigidly, watching Irina/Catherine disappear down the hall. He waited. Tristan would have
something to say. He wouldn’t have so flagrantly violated protocol by bursting into his chambers if there
hadn’t been cause.
    “That is not Lady FoxHaughton,” Tristan offered by
way of observation, as Irina faded down the hallway.
    “No. It is not,” Giles said stiffly.
    “When you said there would be fireworks tonight, I
thought you’d meant pyrotechnics. I didn’t think it would
be your seducing the gypsy queen from the vardo”

    “Don’t be crass, Tristan.” Giles raked his hands
through his hair.
    “You’ve always been a cut above such behavior, is
all.” Tristan shrugged.
    Giles turned towards the window and sighed. There
was no shaking Tristan when he was on to something.