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she hadn’t, the bite sticking in her throat like a cruel scold.
    She coughed and reached for her tea, sipping it gratefully until she was able to swallow normally again.
    Emma gave her a questioning look. “Are you all right?”
    “Yes.”
    “Is something wrong?”
    “No? Why would it be?”
    She eyed her friend under her lashes. What did Emma know? Surely Rupert hadn’t told her what had happened between them and about the kisses they had shared.
    Kisses that were better by far than any she had known before.
    But to him they had been nothing more than a lesson, a punishment. Only imagine if he kissed her with something of a more pleasurable nature in mind?
    Her heart thumped hard and she reached again for her tea.
    Emma glanced toward Ariadne’s plate. “It is just that you seem frazzled this morning. Usually you take butter and jam on your toast.”
    Looking down, Ariadne realized Emma was right. She had forgotten to dress her toast.
    “Just a little tired,” she said, and she reached for the butter.
    “Well, it was a late night.”
    “Indeed.”
    She could have said more. Emma was one of her two best friends in all the world, and generally she confided everything to her.
    Or nearly everything.
    She’d kept her kissing trials to herself. Emma disapproved of the whole project, so she had thought it wise not to share in this instance. But what about Rupert? She could only imagine how that conversation might go.
    “Oh, by the way, your brother caught me kissing Knightbridge last night.”
    “What!”
    “Yes, and then after reading me a lecture and trying to convince me I’m putting myself at serious risk, he kissed me himself.”
    No, best friends or not, that just wasn’t a conversation she could have with Emma. And certainly not about her brother.
    “But you don’t even like him!” she could hear Emma saying.
    And she didn’t.
    But galling as it might be to admit, she had liked his kisses. She could see now why women lined up to hop into his bed in spite of his unpleasant demeanor.
    Fighting down an uncharacteristic blush, she busied herself by spooning strawberry preserves onto her toast. Rather than eat it, though, she took up her fork and moved a few rapidly cooling scrambled egg curds around on her china plate.
    One of the footmen provided some much-needed distraction by approaching to refill her cup of hot tea before moving on to do the same for Emma.
    A quiet knock came at the door and the butler entered, bearing a letter on a silver salver.
    “This just arrived for you, Your Highness,” he said, stopping next to Emma.
    She picked up the missive. “Thank you, Symms.”
    He bowed and withdrew.
    Emma studied the letter and smiled. “It is from Mercedes.”
    Ariadne smiled back, not only because she was eager to hear news of her other best friend—which she was—but because it would help get her mind off Rupert.
    “Well, how is Mercedes? What does she have to say? Will she and Daniel be coming down for the Season?”
    Emma shook her head, which was still bent over the pages. “No, but for good cause. It seems she has happy news to share.”
    “Oh?”
    “She’s in the family way again.” Her smile grew even wider before it disappeared again. “But poor thing isn’t feeling up to the journey. She says she, and I quote, ‘cannot see much point in coming all the way to London just so I can sleep, swoon, and be too sick to keep down my breakfast every morning.’”
    Ariadne chuckled and drank some tea.
    “Apparently Daniel has forbidden her to travel,” Emma said as she continued scanning the letter. “You know how protective he is.”
    “Well, that’s a Scotsman for you,” Ariadne observed. “Although as I recall you had quite a time talking Nick into letting you make the trip from Lynd Park after little Peter’s birth.”
    “Nick was only concerned for my well-being. Luckily I had an easy pregnancy, easier by far than I did with Friedrich. Nick could hardly insist I remain in