Victoria took the opportunity to again urge him to tell her about the days when he knew her mother, but Uncle Charles only shook his head, his expression turning solemn. “Someday soon,” he promised as he always did. “But not yet.”

The rest of the day seemed to drag as Victoria waited nervously for Jason to appear, wondering how he would act toward her after last night. Her mind revolved around the possibilities, unable to leave them alone. Perhaps he would despise her for letting him kiss her. Perhaps he would hate himself for admitting he liked her and didn’t want to let her go. Perhaps he hadn’t meant any of the sweet things he said.

She was quite certain that most of his actions last night had been induced by strong spirits, but she wanted very much to believe some sort of closer friendship, rather than their tentative one, would result from letting the barriers down between them last night. In the past weeks, she had come to care very much for him; she liked and admired him. Beyond that, she . . . Beyond that, she refused to think.

As the day crept forward, her hopes began to die and her tension continued to mount—a state that was only worsened by the two dozen callers who appeared at the house, all of them anxious to learn the truth about Jason’s duel. Northrup informed everyone that Lady Victoria was out for the day, and Victoria continued to wait.

At one o’clock in the afternoon, Jason finally came downstairs only to go directly into his study, where he remained closeted in a meeting with Lord Collingwood and two other men who came to discuss some sort of business-investment.

At three o’clock, Victoria went to the library. Thoroughly disgusted with herself for worrying herself to distraction, she sat there, trying to concentrate on her book, unable to carry on any sort of intelligent conversation with Uncle Charles, who was seated near the windows across the room from her, thumbing through a periodical.

By the time Jason finally strolled into the library, Victoria was so unstrung she nearly jumped to her feet when she saw him.

“What are you reading?” he inquired casually, stopping in front of her and shoving his hands into the pockets of his tight tan trousers.

“A volume of Shelley’s,” she said after a long, embarrassing moment during which she couldn’t remember the particular poet’s name.

“Victoria,” he began, and for the first time Victoria noticed the tension around his mouth. He hesitated, as if searching for the right words, then said, “Did I do anything last night I should apologize for?”

Victoria’s heart sank; he didn’t recall any of it. “Nothing that I remember,” she said, trying to keep her disappointment from showing.

The ghost of a smile hovered at his mouth. “Usually, the person who can’t remember is the one who overindulged— not the other way round.”

“I see. Well, no, you didn’t.”

“Good. In that case, I’ll see you later when we leave for the theater—” With a glinting grin, he added meaningfully, “—Tory.” Then he turned to leave.

“You said you didn’t remember anything,” Victoria burst out before she could stop herself.

Jason turned back to face her, his grin downright wolfish. “I remember everything, Tory. I merely wanted to know if, in your opinion, I did anything I ought to apologize for.”

Victoria’s breath came out in an embarrassed, choking laugh. “You are the most exasperating man alive!”

“True,” he admitted unrepentantly, “but you like me anyway.”

Hot color raced to her face as she watched him walk away. Never, not in her worst imaginings, had she thought he might have been awake when she said that. She sank back against her chair and closed her eyes, mortified to the very core. And that was before a movement across the room reminded her that Uncle Charles was there. Her eyes snapped open, and she saw him watching her, an expression of joyous triumph on his face.

“Very nicely done, child,” he remarked softly. “I always hoped you would come to care for him, and I can see you do.”

“Yes, but I don’t understand him, Uncle Charles.”

Her admission only seemed to gratify the duke that much more. “If you can care for him now, without understanding him, you will care for him a hundred times more when you finally do, that much I can promise you.” He stood up. “I suppose I’d best be on my way. I’m engaged for the rest of the afternoon and evening with an old friend.”

When Victoria walked into the drawing room that evening, Jason was waiting for her, his tall frame exquisitely attired in a wine-colored coat and trousers, a ruby winking in the folds of his pristine white neckcloth. Two matching rubies glinted in the cuffs of his shirt as he stretched out his arm, reaching for his wineglass.

“You’ve left off the sling!” Victoria said as she realized it was missing.

“You haven’t dressed for the theater,” he countered. “And the Mortrams are giving a ball. We’ll go there afterward.”

“I really don’t wish to go to either place. I’ve already sent a note to the Marquis de Salle, asking him to excuse me from going down to supper with him at the Mortrams‘.”

“He’ll be devastated,” Jason predicted with satisfaction. “Particularly when he hears you went down to supper with me, instead.”

“Oh, but I can’t!”

“Yes,” he said dryly, “you can.”

“I wish you would wear the sling,” Victoria evaded.

He gave her a look of exasperated amusement. “If I appear in public wearing a sling, that infant Wiltshire will have everyone in London convinced I was felled by a tree.”

“I doubt he’ll say that,” Victoria said with a twinkle. “He’s very young and therefore more likely to boast of having bested you himself in a duel.”

“Which is more embarrassing than being hit by a tree. Wiltshire,” he explained in disgust, “doesn’t know which end of his pistol to point at the target.”

Victoria swallowed a giggle. “But why must I go out with you if all you need do is appear in public looking uninjured?”

“Because if you aren’t at my side, some woman who longs to be a duchess is bound to hang on my sore arm. Besides, I want to take you.”

Victoria wasn’t proof against his teasing persuasion. “Very well,” she laughed. “I couldn’t live with myself if I was responsible for ruining your reputation as an invincible duelist.” She started to turn, then paused, an impudent smile on her lips. “Have you really killed a dozen men in duels in India?”