"What the devil is going on here?"

It was the battle cry of an angry husband; Rafe would have recognized it anywhere. He sighed. Apparently there was going to be an untidy emotional scene of the sort he most loathed. Releasing the delightful lady in his arms, he turned to face the man who had just stormed into the drawing room.

The newcomer was about Rafe's height and of similar age, somewhere in his mid-thirties. Though he probably would have looked pleasant under other circumstances, at the moment he seemed ready to commit murder.

Lady Jocelyn Kendal cried, "David!" and stepped forward with pleasure, then stopped dead at the expression on her husband's face. Tension throbbed between hem like a drum.

The silence was broken when the newcomer said in low, furious voice, "It's obvious that my arrival is both unexpected and unwelcome. I assume this is the Duke of Candover? Or are you spreading your favors more widely?"

As Lady Jocelyn rocked with the impact of the words, Rafe said coolly, "I'm Candover. I'm afraid that you have the advantage of me, sir." Visibly wrestling with the urge to throw his wife's guest out, the other man snapped, "I am Presteyne, husband of this lady here, though not for long." His hard gaze returned to Lady Jocelyn. "My apologies for interrupting your amusements. I'll collect my belongings and never trouble you again."