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Rhys cursed and rolled off Isabel. His engorged length pulsed with need, and he gritted his teeth.

“Just a moment!” he barked.

Isabel immediately burrowed herself under the covers, her cheeks turning a deeper hue of red. Rhys mourned the loss of her warmth and the sight of her bare skin. Damn his carnal appetites.

I really need to control myself.

He adjusted his nightshirt, stalked to the door, and peeked out.

The butler tried to hide a smile upon seeing his master answering his mistress’s door but was unsuccessful.

“What’s wrong, Monroe?” Rhys barked.

“We have a guest, my lord.”

At this hour? Rhys raised a brow. “A guest?”

“Yes, and he insisted upon seeing her ladyship right away.”

“Insisted, you say? Who is this insolent fellow?” A gentleman to see his wife? Rhys bristled in indignation.

“Viscount Gage, my lord.”

Rhys groaned inwardly. “Thank you, Monroe. Lead him to one of the drawing rooms. Her ladyship will be down shortly.”

As the butler bowed out, Rhys closed the door and leaned his back against it.

Isabel sat up in bed, still clutching the covers to her chin. “What’s wrong?”

“Your brother,” Rhys said and ran his fingers through his hair. “Viscount Gage is here for a visit.”

* * *

Isabel dressed hastily with the help of her maid while Rhys went to check on Millicent. He didn’t want her rushing into the breakfast room with Button while guests were in residence. Isabel tried to assure him that her brother was not that kind of a guest, but he just scoffed, kissed her forehead, and went up to the nursery.

With everything going on, Isabel had almost forgotten about Rhys’s apparent dislike of her family. She had hoped that would have passed with all the revelations they had shared. And perhaps it had, but there was still residue, and Isabel was certain that existed not only on Rhys’s side.

Once Anthea was done with her hair, Isabel hurried down the stairs and into the blue drawing room, where her brother was waiting for her.

Richard, Viscount Gage, stood with his back to her, his hands clasped behind him, looking out the window.

“Richard,” Isabel said with a smile.

He turned, a scowl on his face. “You look healthy enough,” he said, raking her body with his gaze.

“Of course, I am healthy.” Isabel stepped farther into the room. “Although I was hoping for a proper greeting.”

“Apologies, my sister.” Richard walked toward her, took both her hands in his, and kissed her on the cheek. “You look beautiful.”

“Why, thank you!” She sank into a mock curtsy. “What brings you here one week before the start of the house party?”

Isabel motioned toward the chairs by the hearth. Richard moved to sit, but his frown didn’t leave his face.

“Let’s just say I heard some disturbing information about your stay here,” he said as he settled into a chair.

Now it was Isabel’s turn to frown. “What kind of disturbing information?”

“That you are being mistreated.” Richard steepled his fingers over his chest, his gaze intent.