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the door of her bedchamber. He had deliberately not given her any indication of his
intentions. He wondered if she was lying awake even now, waiting to see if he would
come to her.
The uncertainty would do her good, he told himself. The woman was decidedly too
headstrong and far too quick to issue a challenge, as that whole damn business involving
the debt to Lovejoy proved. She had gotten into that dangerous situation precisely
because she had been trying to demonstrate to Harry that she was not obliged to bow to
his wishes.
Harry got up from his chair and stalked across the chamber to pour himself another
glass of brandy. He had been far too lenient with Augusta thus far; that was the problem.
Too indulgent by half. She was, after all, one of the Northumberland Ballingers. She
needed a firm hand on the reins. He owed it to their future happiness to restrain her
reckless streak.
But the more he thought about it tonight, the more Harry wondered if he was taking
the right tact by staying out of his wife's bedchamber.
He swallowed more brandy and contemplated the stirring heat in his loins.
There was another way of looking at his current situation, he decided on a flash of
brandy-induced wisdom. If one were to be quite logical about this and he did pride
himself on his ability to think logically one could see that he might do better to assert
his privileges as a husband right from the start.
Yes, that reasoning was much more sound than his previous thoughts on the matter. It
was not, after all, his self-control he needed to demonstrate, but rather his dominant role
in the marriage. He was master in his own home.
Vastly more satisfied with this new line of logic, Harry set down his glass and went
across the room to open his wife's door.
He stood in the doorway and gazed into the deep shadows around the bed. "Augusta?"
There was no response.
Harry walked into the bedchamber and realized there was no one in the canopied bed.
"Damnation, Augusta, where are you?"
When there was still no response, he swung around and saw that the door to the
bedchamber was ajar. His insides clenched as he realized she was not in the room.
What trick was she up to tonight? he wondered as he strode toward the door and let
himself out into the hall. If this was another one of her efforts to lead him in circles until
he was dizzy, he would put a stop to it in no uncertain terms.
He stepped out into the hall and saw the ghostly figure. Garbed in a pale dressing
gown that floated out behind her, candle in hand, Augusta was heading for the long
picture gallery that fronted the house. Curious now, Harry decided to follow the wraith.
As he trailed softly behind her, Harry was aware of a sense of relief. He knew then
that a part of him had secretly feared she had packed a bag and run off into the night. He
should have known better, he told himself. Augusta was not the sort to run from anything.
He followed her into the long gallery and stood watching at the far end as she went
slowly along the row of portraits. She paused at each picture, holding the taper high to
study each face in its heavy gilt frame. Moonlight filtering in through the tall windows
that lined the front of the gallery bathed her in a silvery glow, making her appear more of
a ghost than ever.
Harry waited until she was examining the picture of his father before he started
forward.
"I have been told I resemble him very closely," he said quietly. "I have never found it
much of a compliment."
"Harry." The flame flickered wildly as Augusta spun around, her hand at her throat.
"Good grief. I did not know you were there. You gave me a terrible start."
"My apologies. What are you doing out here in the middle of the night, madam?"
"I was curious, my lord."
"About my ancestors?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Well, my lord, I was just lying there in my bed thinking that they will be my
ancestors, too, now, will they not? And I realized I did not know much about any of
them."
Harry folded his arms across his chest and propped one shoulder against the wall
beneath his father's stern face. "If I were you, I would not be in too much of a rush to
claim this lot. There's not a particularly pleasant soul among them, from all I've ever
heard."
"What about your father? He looks very strong and noble." She peered up at the
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