Too young and ramshackle to be the Earl and Countess of Bedlow. He felt as if what they had been doing was branded across their faces. He remembered what his mother had said when they were merely kissing in the breakfast room. He straightened. She wasn’t going to say anything to Penelope. Not now. But he should have known she wouldn’t, not in front of Sir Jasper. She just gave a brittle laugh and said in a reasonable facsimile of indulgent motherhood, “Go on, get out of those wet things before you catch cold! I’ll order up more tea.” They escaped gratefully up the stairs. “Newlyweds,” Sir Jasper said with a chuckle. Sir Jasper expected to be kept waiting for a good long while. It had been quite obvious what the new earl and his common little bride had been doing during the storm. He could hardly pretend to be astonished. The late Lord Bedlow had had the same red-blooded rakish streak—likable enough, but without his wife to keep him in check, he could easily have become unfit for polite society.
