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he’d find out about it. Perhaps she didn’t think he’d been serious when he warned her about being reckless.
    Unfortunately, now the time had come for Leah George to learn from her mistakes.
     
    Not six hours into her house party, Leah already regretted inviting these random acquaintances to come into her home and gawk at her. Oh, they were more discreet than that, of course, their curious glances furtively concealed whenever she looked in their direction. Nevertheless, she had to suppress the impulse to have the butler dismiss them all.
    She wasn’t accustomed to drawing such focused attention; even when she tried to play hostess, Ian had always been the one to entertain their guests. And despite the risks she’d taken in hosting the house party, even after nearly four months of widowed isolation, she was temptingly close to abandoning this next rebellion in exchange for the return of simple, blessed obscurity.
    Looking down both sides of the dining table, Leah smiled. “I must beg your forgiveness, gentlemen, for requesting you forsake your cigars tonight. Instead, shall we all adjourn to the drawing room? I have an announcement to make before I tell you of our special entertainment this evening.”
    With uplifted brows and veiled glances, her guests rose from their chairs. Leah led the way up the stairs, no escort at her side. After she had issued more than thirty invitations, only eight had come—and honestly, that was eight more than she’d expected. But perhaps they assumed she’d arranged the numbers unevenly on purpose, to emphasize her eccentricity amid the rumors caused by hosting a house party so soon after Ian’s death.
    Once inside the drawing room, she waited for her guests to be seated. Although theirs were all familiar faces, none were particularly close friends to either her or Ian. Some were probably intrigued by the hint of scandal, some on the fringes of society and simply happy to receive an invitation. They might whisper about her and criticize her actions, but she’d made certain not to invite anyone who knew Ian well, or who might consider asking her uncomfortable questions.
    With her heart fluttering wildly and her palms beginning to dampen with perspiration, Leah reminded herself that they were here for her amusement, nothing more. Taking a deep breath, she gestured to the large portrait of Ian beside her, the one she’d had removed from the gallery. “Thank you all for coming,” she began, a signal to quiet their murmurs of speculation. “I realize—”
    Herrod, her butler, caught her eye at the doorway. “Excuse me for one moment,” she said, then slipped from the room, desperately grateful for the unexpected reprieve.
    “I apologize for interrupting, madam, but a gentleman has arrived. The Earl of Wriothesly. He insists on seeing you at once.”
    Wriothesly. She’d hoped he wouldn’t find out about the house party until it was over, to spare them both any attempt of his to restrain her. But he’d come. To berate her, to lecture her, to make her feel as miserable as he did, no doubt.
    Immediately Leah’s nerves calmed, her heart steadying, her breath slowing. She might not be her best in front of others, but the challenge of Lord Wriothesly was another matter altogether. He meant to test her independence, though she doubted he had any idea of the strength she’d acquired since Ian’s death.
    “Thank you, Herrod. Please see if my guests require anything while they wait,” she said, then nearly skipped down the stairs in her haste.
    Now she looked forward to seeing him, the earl of the impossibly green eyes and the severe, brooding countenance. She was curious to see how she would respond this time to his requests, how she would ply her courage and stand firm in her defiance.
    In a way, she pitied him. Although she continued trying to move forward, to distance herself from the person she’d become while married to Ian, she couldn’t forget the earl’s anguish when