and even wander the halls if she chose. She could relive the first night she had slept in the house, oblivious of Blackwood’s impending claim.
Lifting a bedside candle, she opened the door. She was at the top of the stairs when a trill of feminine laughter echoed off the marble vestibule. Then came a distinct male laugh that Bella knew belonged to Blackwood.
She froze, like a bird that had flown into a stone wall.
How dare he!
She had just lain restless, burning with her first taste of desire because of his kiss, and he was returning to her house from a night of drinking and carousing with a woman.
Bella rushed down the stairs to see Blackwood hand his hat and a woman’s cloak to Coates, who, in turn, nodded when he spotted Bella clutching the balustrade, then discreetly disappeared.
The woman’s hand rested on Blackwood’s sleeve, her golden hair swept up in an elegant coiffure, her blue eyes exotically slanted like those of a Persian cat. She was stunning, and Bella suspected she was an expensive Cyprian that only a duke could afford.
Bella’s spine stiffened. If Blackwood thought he could bring this type of woman into the house he was gravely mistaken.
Blackwood and his ladybird looked to her. “Bella,” he drawled. “I hadn’t suspected you were a night owl.”
She lifted her chin and boldly met his eyes. “Get out. I don’t care that you are a duke or a barrister or if you were first to record the deed. I won’t stand by and permit you to bring women here. Go back to the Twin Rams and rent a room,” she ordered in a voice that brooked no argument.
To her dismay, a chuckle rumbled from his throat. “I warned you about sharing a residence with a bachelor. It’s not too late to reconsider,” he said.
Bella’s breaths came in ragged gasps. “Don’t you dare mock me, Your Grace.”
Amusement lurked in his eyes. “Don’t tell me that we’re back to rigid formality again.”
The blonde pursed her lips at Blackwood, her eyes flashing a gentle but firm warning. “Stop instigating, James, and introduce me.”
James. The woman had called him James.
Her familiar manner and use of his Christian name suggested that she was no random trollop he had brought home for the evening, but someone with whom he shared a relationship. A longtime mistress, perhaps?
The nauseating sinking in the pit of her stomach was as confusing as it was distressing.
“If you insist. Although I admit her reaction is highly amusing.” James made a sweeping motion with his hand. “Bella, may I introduce Lady Evelyn Harding, the wife of my good friend and legal colleague, Jack Harding.”
Lady Evelyn stepped forward and smiled. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I do apologize for the late hour. My husband and I hadn’t planned on visiting until several days from now, but his trial was postponed and we decided to arrive straightaway. We would have arrived hours ago at a decent time, but our coach threw a wheel. We were stranded on the road until, as luck would have it, James was returning home from the Twin Rams and spotted us. My husband is seeing to the horses in the stable as we speak. I had hoped we’d only have to disturb the young stable lad from his sleep.”
Bella blinked and gazed at the smiling blonde. It was then that she noticed her fine traveling gown of violet silk with lace trimming and black kid gloves. Blackwood had called her “Lady Evelyn,” which could only mean the woman was the daughter of an aristocrat who had kept her courtesy title upon her marriage to a commoner. A nervous fluttering began low in Bella’s stomach.
“I do believe you owe Lady Harding an apology,” James said.
“Don’t be daft, James,” Lady Evelyn admonished. “Mrs. Sinclair owes me no such thing. It’s perfectly understandable for her to question the arrival of a strange woman with a bachelor in the dead of the night in her home.”
Bella did not miss the insightful words at the end of Lady Evelyn’s speech. She had referred to the manor as Bella’s home.
Could it have been an accidental slip? Or can she be an ally?
Bella felt her face redden as she looked to the lady. “He’s correct. Please forgive my rush to judgment and rudeness, Lady Evelyn. I would be honored to have you and Mr. Harding as guests at Wyndmoor.”
“Thank you for your kindness,” Lady Evelyn said.
Bella glanced down at her attire, at once conscious of her nightdress, wrapper, and bare feet. She couldn’t very well escort Lady Evelyn and her husband to the guestroom dressed as she was.
“If His Grace would be so kind as to escort Lady Evelyn to the drawing room, I shall see that a room is prepared,” Bella said.
James grinned. “Excellent idea. I do believe your senses have returned.”
Bella bit back a scalding retort, not wanting to further spar with him. She had already behaved foolishly enough for one evening. She waited until the pair made their way around the corner and out of sight. Only then did Bella sprint up the stairs to awaken the staff and prepare for their unexpected guests.
Evelyn Harding was pleasantly surprised when James escorted her not to the drawing room, but to the library instead. She was the daughter of an earl, but before her father inherited his title, he had been a barrister and lecturer at Oxford. Evelyn had spent her childhood at Lincoln’s Inn surrounded by books and listening to fascinating legal arguments.
She roamed the library, her fingers passing over the colorful spines of the volumes on the mahogany shelves. The comforting smell of books and well-oiled leather furniture surrounded her. With his back to her, James poured a whiskey from a sideboard.
“Were all these books here when you arrived?” Evelyn asked.
James turned and sipped his whiskey. “Yes, it seems my father no longer had a use for them, and the man he sold the manor to, a Sir Redmond Reeves, sold the place with the furnishings, including the books, intact.” James pointed to one of the shelves. “I brought those legal volumes with me from chambers.”
Evelyn had known all the barristers in her husband’s chambers for five years. There was Brent Stone, with his tawny mane and striking looks, but whose unfathomable blue eyes seemed to hold long-buried secrets. And Anthony Stevens, whose pugilist pastime and controversial area of legal practice had sculpted him into a hard, jaded man. But as for James Devlin—the new Duke of Blackwood—she had always found him the most controversial. She was aware of his reputation with women, and Evelyn vividly recalled her first encounter with him before she had married.
She had run into James at Lincoln’s Inn when she was seeking out Jack Harding’s legal representation. James had flirted outrageously with her in the doorway of chambers, and had tried to tempt her into switching barristers, insisting he was the most competent. His antics had made her laugh, and when she’d refused him, he’d merely shrugged, tipped his hat, and wished her luck with her legal endeavors on his way out the door.
She had never approved of James’s lifestyle—his lovers or his liaisons with the willing wives of his clients. But since Evelyn had married, James had always treated her with the utmost respect. Evelyn had grown to care for him, as well as the other two barristers in their chambers, Anthony and Brent, as friends.
“How’s Phillip? I promised your boy a pony when I return,” James said.
When it came to Evelyn’s three-year-old son, Phillip, James was a beloved uncle. “You spoil him,” she said.
“I take my job as an uncle seriously.”
Evelyn sighed. “Phillip’s as precocious as ever. But it’s the first time Jack and I have left him, and I miss him terribly already. He adores you, you know.”
“Don’t give me too much credit. It’s quite enjoyable to act the doting uncle knowing I get to hand the boy over to