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you—"
    Chloe shook her head. "It is a—a tradition with the Fonbeaulard women. We never anticipate the marriage bed." That part was true, as far as she knew. It seemed like a good excuse, too.
    "Tradition?" He looked as if he had never heard the word. "What do I care for some ridiculous tradition? Don't be silly, Chloe, let's—"
    "No. I mean it, John. Not until after the wedding."
    So that's what a frustrated rakehell looks like , she marveled. Must be a new look for him .
    John was irritated—more than he cared to admit. What did she mean, no? "I don't understand this. You've already—"
    Chloe swallowed. Courage . "That's different. You are to be my husband. According to the tradition, we have to wait." There. That sounds perfectly reasonable .
    He observed her intently. "Hmm."
    Was he getting suspicious? Chloe decided she needed to change his line of thinking.
    "I mean, if you were anyone else, why then, it would be fine." She peeked up at him from under her lashes.
    He seemed somewhat flabbergasted.
    "Are you—are you saying you would be with someone else but not with me?" he choked out.
    "Yes, of course. In fact, our agreement doesn't have to go into effect until we are actually wed, so…"She let the thought trail off meaningfully.
    He just stared at her, dumbfounded.
    This was a gamble, but one she had to take. "We could both be free, so to speak, until then. That is, if you wish it." She nodded enthusiastically to nettle him further.
    It proved effective when that muscle in his jaw began working.
    Please don't do it, John . Chloe waited for his answer on pins and needles. Why doesn't he say something ?
    "As far as I am concerned," he finally bit out through clenched teeth, "the agreement is in effect. We'll wait. Both of us."
    It was all she could do not to hug him. Instead, she feigned a nonchalant attitude, shrugging. "Whatever you wish."
    Her capitulation mollified him somewhat, even if he still seemed a bit disgruntled. "Does this mean we cannot even kiss till then?"
    "Better not," she intoned. "I can never seem to stop myself with just a kiss, John," she confided to him.
    The jade eyes narrowed.

Chapter Three
    Maurice Bags a Viscount
     
    "John and I are to be wed."
    Stunned silence filled the room.
    Chloe had decided to announce the momentous change that was about to take place in her life as soon as they were all gathered together in the drawing room after the evening meal. The "rope" had been looped about the rake's neck, and she surmised this was a good time to give it a yank.
    John glared at her.
    Well, what did he expect? She returned his look with a catlike smile. Sorry, John, no reprieve for you .
    Grandmere had just finished commenting on the conditions in
France, saying that nothing had been the same since the Parisian mobs had pulled that red bonnet over the ears of Louis. At Chloe's announcement, she sat back in her chair, her hand coming to her throat in a gesture of shock.
    Apparently the Terror could not hold a candle to this bit of news.
    Deiter grunted and Schnapps showed a tooth.
    Maurice was the first to recover. Eyes gleaming with an unnamed satisfaction, he gave his nephew a knowing look. "Ho ho !" John shifted in his seat, refusing to meet his uncle's eye. He seemed to take an unprecedented interest in the pastoral scene depicted on the wallpaper to his left.
    Maurice began to hum the same tune he had earlier regarding the mouse and the cat.
    " Mon Dieu , is this true, John?" Grandmere finally found her voice.
    John leaned forward in his seat, elbows resting on his spread knees, hands linked together between. He'd best try to explain this. And he would… as soon as he figured it out for himself. How had Chloe managed it? He had been wondering that all afternoon.
    "Well, you see, Countess—"
    "You haven't!" Grandmere turned pale. "But you have only been back a few hours, John. Mon Dieu , tell me you haven't debauched her!"
    The countess looked back and forth between the two of them.