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“I’m only walking to Kelbourne House,” Torie said, looking in the mirror. “I think a bolder lip color, Emily, to balance the color in my gown.”

Emily darted over to the dressing table and came back with a round box. Popping open the cover, she proclaimed, “Love’s Last Sigh. Deep red.”

Brilliant.

Just brilliant.

Chapter 21

The whole three blocks to Kelbourne House, Torie counseled herself to keep her temper. She would calmly explain that her husband could not shame her by keeping a mistress in public or private.

Ever. Never. Not at all. In fact, he had to go over there and get rid of that horrible diamond-bedecked—

No.

She took a deep breath. She was used to charming men, so why couldn’t she seem to do it with Dom? With him, she lost her temper in a moment, and then he started kissing her, and then . . .

He got his way, all too often.

The Kelbourne butler opened the door with gratifying speed before she reached the top of the steps. “Miss Torie,” Flitwick said, welcoming her inside. “May I take your parasol? Lord Kelbourne is in his study, if you’d like to greet him.”

“Good morning, Flitwick,” Torie said, handing him her gloves and unpinning her hat. “How are the twins?”

“They spent the morning in Hyde Park, as you suggested. Miss Florence brought home several earthworms, much to Nanny Bracknell’s disapproval.”

“What does Florence intend to do with them?”

“Paint them,” Flitwick said, his eyes twinkling. “She has decided to eschew rabbits and try an animal that remains on the ground.”

“A very sensible decision,” Torie said. “I shall greet Lord Kelbourne. You needn’t announce me, Flitwick.”

When she pushed open the door to Dominic’s study, she froze for a moment, trying to determine why a mere glimpse of the man had such a heady effect on her. He was seated behind a huge walnut desk, his head bent over a letter.

True, he was unfairly beautiful; his cheekbones made him look as sensitive as one of the carved stone angels she stared at in church.

Sensitive? Ha. She couldn’t have found someone more insensitive. More bellicose.

Just now he was writing quickly because he was also so competent at everything he did. As well as passionate and self-assured.

“Are you coming in?” he asked, finishing his line.

“Yes,” she said shakily, moving away from the door and shutting it behind her.

He jumped to his feet, his eyes hungry. “I thought you were Flitwick,” he said, moving around his desk.

Torie instinctively reacted to his expression—and then loathed him, and her own response. How could he feel scorching lust for two women at once? Was she benefiting from Gianna’s sensuality, or was he taking all the desire that flared between them and returning to Gianna’s bed?

How could she want a man who was bedding another?

She forced herself to smile and curtsy. “Dom.”

He bowed. “I thought we’d moved away from formal salutations.”

“I did call you Dom,” she murmured, allowing him to steer her to a couch. As they sat down, he brushed tendrils of hair from around her face and dropped a kiss on her nose.

“May I kiss you?”

“I’d rather not,” she said, looking at her hands as she reminded herself not to lose her temper, remain calm, be charming, be . . .