So he was to lure Miss Mary Alsworthy into Jane's schemes with his title as bait, was he? The idea was almost entirely without merit.

And yet…

Ah, there she was again, that treacherous jade, that will-o'-the-wisp, that yet. Vaughn pondered the monumental boredom of Gloucestershire and decided that will-o'-the-wisps were the lesser evil. One needed to do something to enliven the stifling ennui of the human existence. And one could only beguile so many empty hours by bedeviling one's valet or seducing the serving girls.

And then there were his own purposes….

"How could I possibly deny any lady such a simple request?" With an unhurried gesture, Vaughn shook out the lace of his cuffs before adding, "Even a fool's errand is preferable to being forced into another round of hunt the slipper."

"But my dear Lord Vaughn" — Jane blinked innocently up at him — "isn't that exactly the game you have been playing?"

Mary drew her light gauze shawl more closely around her shoulders, which were beginning to show unbecoming signs of gooseflesh. The wrap, which had been perfectly adequate for London's overheated ballrooms, did very little to ward off the October chill that pervaded the Great Chamber of Sibley Court. Next to her, a twisted branch of candles did more to cast shadows than spread light. Any attempt at illumination disappeared into the depths of the dusky tapestry on the wall beside her, which appeared to depict one of the gorier episodes from the Bible. At least, Mary hoped it was biblical in origin. Otherwise, that girl really had no business holding aloft that man's severed head.

Mary might, she told herself, have endured the cold with equanimity. She might have smiled with tolerant condescension upon the antiquated furnishings and dour tapestries, graciously endured the drafty chambers, and equably accepted the lack of any local society — any local society worth knowing, that was — within twenty miles, were it not for one small problem.