“Lovely to see you again, my lord,” Isabel murmured, her voice unusually somber.

“Yes,” Hargreaves muttered, stepping aside. “Quite.”

Opening the door, Gerard gave one last studious look at his rival, and then led his wife out with a hand at the small of her back. They walked slowly down the street, both lost in their thoughts. Several pedestrians attempted to approach, but a narrowed glance was effective at keeping them away.

“That was awkward,” he muttered finally.

“You noted that, did you?” she said, refusing to look at him.

In a way, he missed the overconfidence of his youth. Four years ago, he would have brushed off the encounter as amusing. In fact, he had done that very thing on several occasions, as social engagements had brought him face to face with Pel’s lovers, and she with his. Now he was all too aware of his flaws and shortcomings, and to his knowledge the popular and respected Hargreaves had none.

“I’ve no notion of how I will explain your comment to him,” she said, obviously upset.

“He knew the risks when he chose to dally with another man’s wife.”

“There were no risks! No one could predict that you would come home daft.”

“It is not daft to desire your spouse. Pretending you don’t, however, is ridiculous.”

He stopped abruptly as a merchant door swung inward, and a customer ran out directly before them.

“My apologies, my lady!” the man cried to Pel, tipping his hat before he strode away quickly.

Gerard looked at the establishment, curious about the reason for the man’s excitability. His mouth curved as he reached for the door.

“A jeweler’s?” Isabel asked with a frown.

“Yes, vixen. There is something I should have attended to years ago.”

He urged her inside, and the clerk lifted his head from the sales record book with a smile. “Good afternoon, my lord. My lady.”