Page 64 of The Countess Caper

She giggled.

She actually giggled.

Knives to the throat were safer.

Kensington Castle had been built sometime in the Elizabethan era, and added on afterward by eager inhabitants with very little cohesive taste. Everything rambled—turrets sprang out of nowhere, and marble columns stood next to splintering Tudor beams. It was a mess.

“I love it,” Tessa murmured. The mess was comforting.

“You would.” Roarke snorted. “There’s a doorway that opens to the cellar without any stairs. You could fall to your death. You’ll feel right at home.”

The front door opened. A cat streaked outside, winding between her ankles. The butler sighed, muttered, then straightened. “I do beg your pardon.”

Tessa recalled that the marchioness loved cats. She forced her shoulders to relax. If Lady Kensington did not mind cat hair on the furniture, she could probably put up with Tessa for a few days.

“The Earl and Countess of Dartmoor,” Roarke said.

“Welcome, my lord. Your ladyship.” The butler bowed, stepping aside to let them in. The foyer floor was set out in a checkerboard pattern, alternating white and black. The walls were the most vivid, an interesting magenta color. Tessa adored it instantly. “The other guests have taken a walk down to the folly, but Lady Kensington is in the library. If you’ll wait in the parlor, I will ring for tea.”

“I’m here, Forsythe,” a lady announced, coming down the hall with a small orange cat wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl. Her black hair shone in the light from the windows, ornamented with diamond pins. There were smile lines around her mouth that came to life when she paused, then laughed heartily. Not at all like a demure marchioness. Tessa’s aunt would be horrified. She took it as a good omen. “Why, it’s the reclusive Earl of Dartmoor, who refuses merriment of any kind.”

“At your service.” Roarke bowed, eyes twinkling. “Your collar has teeth.”

“Just how I like it. I’m sorry that Kensington is not here to greet you, Roarke. He’s hiding.”

“Of course he is. Wine cellar?”

“With my new romantic novel, the thief. I’m only halfway through, and he will insist on spoiling it. Oh, but this is a delightful surprise. Kensington said you sent word, but I assumed it was a jest.”

“Lady Kensington, I’d like to introduce you to my wife, Lady Tessa Noble, Countess Dartmoor.”

Lady Kensington gaped. Tessa smiled uncertainly. “How do you do?”

“When did you develop a flair for drama, Dartmoor?” Lord Kensington boomed as he joined them. He was very tall, and very handsome, with auburn hair that was slightly too long and a scar across his temple. He looked like a marquess as much as Roarke looked like an earl. That was: not at all.

Tessa liked him immediately.

He and Roarke greeted each other the way she imagined brothers would—grins, big handshakes, muttered insults. “Who the hell would marry the Beast of Dartmoor?” Lord Kensington asked.

“The Notorious Punch Bowl Ophelia,” Tessa replied. In for a penny, in for a pound.

Lady Kensington’s eyes widened. “I knew you looked familiar. The Incident.”

“Oh, that sounds positively intriguing,” her husband said.

Tessa curtsied a greeting and then promptly lost most of her bravado. She shifted from foot to foot. This was a mad plan. She should go home immediately.

Roarke stepped closer, a warm, solid presence at her back. Still uncertain of her welcome, Tessa hesitated. “We can go,” she said. “I don’t want to cause you trouble.”

“Don’t be silly,” Lady Kensington said, steel suddenly in her soft voice. “This is my house. Anyone who has a problem can sleep in the shed.”

“Where she keeps her pet skunk,” Lord Kensington pointed out with a smile. He touched her cheek fondly. The cat draped over her protested with a swipe of his claws. “She’s my wife, you little ingrate.”

The cat proceeded to walk across his shoulder and settle himself inside his very expensive waistcoat, embroidered with gold thread. Lord Kensington scratched his ears. His wife looked like she wanted to kiss him. Thoroughly.

What would it be like to be married in such a way? With such obvious love and affection. Understanding.

As it did not signify, Tessa forced her thoughts back to reality.