"Some of the time. I could introduce you if you like."

"No, you may not, Frederic. I'm here incognito for this scandalous painting." A lady's amused voice came from the right, and a moment later, Alexandra Ionides emerged from behind a tapestry screen. She was dressed in dark blue silk that set off her skin to perfection, the front of the gown still partially open, her silken flesh that had an alluring warmth about it, as though she'd been in the heat of the sun, quickly disappearing from sight as she closed three sparkling gemstone clasps.

"It's you," the viscount exclaimed softly.

Her eyes were huge, the deepest purple, and her surprise was genuine. "I beg your pardon?"

"Alex, allow me to introduce the Viscount Ranelagh," Leighton said. "My lord, Alexandra Ionides, the Dowager Countess St. Albans and Mrs. Courts."

"Mrs. Courts?"

"I'm a widow. Both my husbands died." She always enjoyed saying that-for the reaction it caused, for the pleasure it gave her to watch people's faces.

"May I ask how they died?" the viscount inquired, speaking to her with a quiet intensity, as though they were alone in the cavernous room.

"Not in their beds, if that's what you're thinking." She knew of Ranelagh, of his reputation, and thought his question either flippant or cheeky.

"I meant… how difficult it must have been-how distressing. I'm a widower."

"I know." But she doubted he was distressed. The flighty, promiscuous Lady Ranelagh had died in a riding accident, and very opportunely, it was said; her husband was about to either kill her or divorce her.

"Alex and I were just about to sit down to champagne. Would you gentlemen care for a glass?" Leighton gestured toward an alcove decorated with various colorful divans. "I reward myself at the end of a workday," he added with a small, deprecating smile.

A bottle of champagne was already on ice atop a Moroccan-style table, and if Alexandra might have wished to refuse, Leighton had made it impossible. Ranelagh was more than willing, Eddie had never turned down a drink in his adult life, and George Howard, like so many men of his class, had considerable leisure time.