In any case, despite Gray’s ability to arrest her brain processes for a moment with his uncommon beauty, she had no further interest in him. He was Pelham all over again-a man too selfish and self-centered to set aside his own needs for another’s.

The door flew open behind her, startling her, and she spun about, only to be met head-on with over six feet of powerful male. Gray caught her around the waist and spun her about, laughing that rich laugh of his. A laugh that said he’d never once had a care in the world.

“Gray!” she protested, pushing at his shoulders. “Put me down.”

“Dear Pel,” he cried, his eyes alight. “I’ve had the most wondrous news told to me this morn. I’m to be a father!”

Isabel blinked, growing dizzy from lack of sleep and the spinning.

“You are the only person alive I could think of who might be happy for me. Everyone else will be horrified. Please smile, Pel. Congratulate me.”

“I will, if you put me down.”

The marquess set her on her feet and stepped back, waiting.

She laughed at his impatient expectation. “Congratulations, my lord. May I have the name of the fortunate woman who is to become your bride?”

Much of the joy in his blue eyes faded, but his charming smile remained. “Well, that would still be you, Isabel.”

Staring up at him, she tried to discern what he was about, and failed. She gestured to a nearby chair, and then sat herself.

“You really are quite lovely with sex-mussed hair,” Gray mused. “I can see why your lovers would mourn the loss of such a sight.”

“Lord Grayson!” Isabel ran a hand over the tangles in her long tresses. The present fashion was close-cropped curls, but she preferred a longer length, as did her paramours. “Please, I must hasten you to explain the purpose of your visit. It has been a long night and I am tired.”

“It has been a long night for me as well, I have yet to sleep. But-”