Wyatt let out an incredulous laugh. “Spoken with her? I rather think she might skin me alive if I dared show my face at her house, don't you think?”
Jonah hummed. “You're probably right. So, what? You will never see her again?”
Wyatt sighed. He knew an apology to Miss Henford was long overdue. But he also knew there was absolutely no way her family would let him through the front door—let alone get out a word of apology.
Nonetheless, he knew there was little chance he could escape this whole sorry debacle without ever seeing her again. There would be invitations to balls, to soirees, to garden parties… At least once the chatter over his scandalous marriage settled down. Refusing to attend such events out of fear of seeing Henrietta would only stoke the gossip he was sure thetonwas currently thriving off. With any luck, the scheming Henrietta would soon find another eligible nobleman to marry, and they never need deal with each other again.
He emptied his glass and waved to the barman for another. “Enough about me,” he said firmly. “I want to know what this business of yours is that has you so worked up.”
“Ah,” said Jonah, suddenly glum. “That.”
Wyatt leaned forward. “Yes. That. Spill it, Anderson. I've waited long enough.”
Jonah scrubbed a hand across his shaven jaw and looked across the bar. “Well. The thing is that I…”
Wyatt nodded his thanks to the barman as a second glass of whisky appeared on the small table between their armchairs. “You what?”
Jonah's face took on a faraway expression, and he feigned immense interest in the brandy dregs at the bottom of his glass. “I've done something foolish,” he said finally. “I've taken up with a lady I should not have.”
“Oh?” Though Wyatt was faintly interested in his friend's latest antics, he could not deny this felt like something of an anticlimax.Taking up with ladies he shouldn't havewas Jonah Anderson’s favorite pastime. “Who is it?” he pressed. “And why should you not have done it?” He was suddenly very desperate for Jonah to spit it out so he could hurry home and have another try at thawing out Gemma.
Jonah stood up suddenly and began to pace back and forth across their corner of the bar. Wyatt frowned. He had never seen his friend this anxious. “Anderson? What is it? Or rather,whois it?”
“I can't say,” he blurted. “But she is a married lady.”
“A married lady?” Wyatt repeated. “That's it?” He had lost count of how many times the two of them had taken up with married ladies. Certainly, neither of them had ever had such a crisis of conscience that it warranted a confession such as this one.
Jonah was clearly hiding something. And Wyatt could not quite find the will to care. These caddish antics, these nights in bed with married ladies, these small fortunes won and lost at the Whist tables, they felt like something from his old life. Something he had left behind—or at least, was trying to.
“Well. If you're not going to tell me anything more…” He stood up and began to head for the cloakroom. “I am leaving,” he announced. “I?—”
“Already? We just got here.” The look of consternation vanished from Jonah's face almost as quickly as it had appeared. In its place was his customary mischievous grin. “We can't leave without a round or two at the Whist tables, old man.”
“No,” said Wyatt. I can't. I?—”
Jonah put a hand on his shoulder, guiding him toward the narrow staircase that led up to the gaming rooms. A sudden burst of laughter floated down from upstairs. “Yes, yes, yes, you promised your wife, and she's giving you nothing in return. So I really think you deserve just a little fun.” He clapped him on the back. “Come on, Larsen. I'll have you home in plenty of time for you to stare longingly at Lady Highbrow's locked bedroom door.”
Wyatt sighed. “Fine. One game. But that's it,” he said, wondering why he found it so damn hard to turn Jonah Anderson down. Maybe Gemma was right. Maybe a habit was a hard thing to break.
Gemma had had just about enough of these sleepless nights. Just about enough of lying beneath the sheets and thinking of her husband in his bed at the other end of the house—or wherever in hell he happened to be tonight.
In spite of the physical longing, his absence from the house was a firm reminder that she was doing the right thing by keeping herdistance from him. A firm reminder that men like him only led to heartbreak and broken promises.
But none of those thoughts were helping her sleeplessness.
Gemma threw back the bedclothes in a sudden burst of rebellion.
That's it. I am doing it.
She was going to creep downstairs to the library, and she was going to sneakCaptain Midnightfrom the top shelf and bring it back up here to her bedchamber. If fate had deigned to give her a chaste and loveless life, she could at least live vicariously through the heroines within those pages. Perhaps in books, she could at least discover exactly what she was missing out on.
Before she could change her mind, she grabbed her robe from the chair beside the bed and slipped it on over her nightshift. She poked a head out into the passage, relieved to see no lights peeking out beneath bedroom doors. Taking the lamp from her bedside table, she tiptoed downstairs on silent feet. Slowly, carefully, she turned the door handle of the library and stepped inside.
She set the lamp on the table in the center of the room and looked about her in wonder. In the half-light, the library felt almost otherworldly, with its un-curtained windows looking out over the dark garden, and acres of bookshelves reaching skyward. Gemma's eyes drifted upward to the highest shelf, pulled toward the forbidden book like a compass toward the north.
She crept across the room and took the step ladder from the corner. Carried it to the shelf and climbed up carefully. Still, she had to stand on tiptoe to reach the book, and she found herselfholding her breath. Fear of falling, or fear of being caught, she could hardly tell.
Just as her fingertips grasped the spine, she froze. A sound in the hallway. Footsteps coming toward her. She released her grip on the book and whirled around. But before she could climb from the step ladder, the door opened, revealing her husband.
