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“Not at all,” she lied.

“But you haven’t contributed much to the discussion. What does Byrne do that annoysyou ?”

She sought for something less…indelicate to share. “He steals the covers. I always have to steal them back in the middle of the night.”

The other women exchanged perplexed glances. Lady Hungate leaned forward. “Are you saying that Byrne actually spends the night with you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“There’s no ‘of course’ about it,” Mrs. Talbot put in. “Byrne never sleeps with anyone. He might doze, but never for more than an hour or two.”

When the others nodded their agreement, Christabel’s heart began to pound. “So Byrne has never spent a full night with any of you?”

“No, never,” Lady Hungate said.

Lady Jenner gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “It’s only because she’s a widow. He sleeps with her because she has no husband waiting for her.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” a young woman said. “My husband was always away, and my servants are discreet, but Byrne would never stay the night, even when I begged him.”

Yet he stayed with Christabel every night,all night. Her blood thundered in her ears. Perhaps hedid care, after all.

Then a lowering thought hit her: Byrne only stayed with her to keep her from being vulnerable to Lord Stokely.

“What always annoyed me about Byrne,” Lady Hungate remarked, “was the way he insisted on calling me ‘my sweet’ or ‘lass.’”

“It’s the Irish in him,” Mrs. Talbot said. “Irishmen are like that with the endearments.”

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“I don’t mind his using an endearment; it’s the ones he chooses. I’m a grown woman, for heaven’s sake, not a ‘lass.’ And I’m certainly not ‘sweet.’”

“I don’t mind that so much,” Christabel admitted. “And I rather enjoy it when he calls me ‘darling.’”

Once again, there was that exchange of looks between the others. “He calls you ‘darling’?” Mrs. Talbot said incredulously.

Finding all eyes trained on her, Christabel mumbled, “Sometimes, yes.”

Lady Hungate sat back in her chair, eyes narrowing. “Well, well, isn’t that interesting?”

“It means nothing,” Lady Jenner snapped. “I’m sure he must have called me ‘darling’ a time or two. I just don’t remember.”

“I remember well enough,” the young woman put in, a trace of envy in her voice. “He never calledme that.”

“Me either,” Mrs. Talbot admitted.

“It seems Byrne has been showing Lady Haversham a different side than he showed the rest of us,”

Lady Hungate said.

“Nonsense,” Lady Jenner snapped. “A leopard doesn’t change his spots. If he behaves any differently with her, it’s only because he wants something.”

Christabel turned her fan over in her fingers. That was quite possibly true. Although she couldn’t see how calling her “darling” helped him get anything.

“Nonetheless,” Lady Hungate remarked, “Byrne is growing older. At some point a man does have to stop sowing wild oats and start sowing the more fruitful kind. Even his sort sometimes fall in love and marry.”

“Byrne?” Lady Jenner said with pure contempt. “Interested in hearth and home? Don’t be ridiculous. The man is incapable of love, much less marriage.”

“That’s not true,” a quiet voice broke in. When everyone turned to Lady Kingsley in surprise, she colored but pressed on. “I once…er…knew a woman who said he claimed to love her, and even proposed marriage.”