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different......but she was eager to learn.
    "Experiencing some difficulty in dismounting, Morgan? That isn't like you."
    At the sound of Chance's deadly calm voice, Morgan sat up straight on Berengaria once more, sparing a quick smile and shrug of her shoulders for Ethan before saying, "Peeking out from behind curtains now, Chance? That isn't like you. Or is that, Lord forbid, what marriage does to people?"
    "Hush, Morgan," Ethan warned her quietly. "Your brother's attempting to pretend he doesn't have grounds to call me out. Be grateful, even if you can't be gracious."
    "Call you out? Don't be ridiculous. We Beckets aren't that civilized. He'd just knock you down, right here in the street. Several times."
    "Don't sound so delighted, imp," Ethan said, then left her still atop Berengaria , and mounted the flagway, his right hand outstretched, the most recent shock in a day littered with them carefully hidden behind a genially smiling face.
    How could he have known, even though Morgan had told him that her brother worked at the War Office?   The War Office was immense. And yet, at this moment, the world seemed dangerously small.
    Amazingly, either Chance Becket didn't recognize him, or he was as accomplished at concealing his emotions as was Ethan himself.
    "Mr. Becket, please allow an explanation if you will. Your sister and I came upon each other out on the road, and I offered my services in escorting her into London once I ascertained that she had planned to abandon her coach and insist upon riding into the city. Ah, and I am Ethan Tanner, Earl of Aylesford, and I extend my sympathies, sir, as your sister would appear to be a rare handful with a mind very much her own."
    Chance Becket accepted Ethan's hand, squeezed his around it with more force than a gentleman would consider necessary, and held on, drew Ethan closer.
    Ethan considered returning that pressure, but what point would it serve? He had been caught out , about to kiss the man's sister. Besides, if either of them physically pressed the matter, the situation could vault above the uncomfortable and into recklessness that would serve neither.
    "Aylesford, is it? Your reputation precedes you, my lord," Chance said flatly, looking over at his sister. "I'm now attempting to understand what I've done to make God so anxious to punish me. It would please me if you were to tell me that you have now completed your gentlemanly duty and are eager to be shed of my troublesome sister, to whom you may not have taken an instant dislike, perhaps, but to whom I suggest you would be wise to feel a very definite indifference."
    Ethan kept his expression neutral as Chance Becket released his grip, although he inwardly damned the poor reputation he'd so carefully built these last years, if only because Chance Becket obviously was aware of it. Of that , and probably of much more. "You're warning me away, Becket?"
    "Let's be polite, Aylesford, but not that polite. I'm ordering you away," Chance countered. "I owe you my thanks and a drink , I believe, and then you will oblige me by forgetting you ever met my sister."
    He looked past Ethan again. "Morgan, get yourself down here, now. No one is present who doesn't know you're more than capable of dismounting on your own."
    Ethan watched as Morgan lifted her leg over the pommel and slid gracefully to the cobblestones. She brushed off her gown, stripped off her gloves and advanced on her brother with a bright smile on her incredibly gorgeous face.
    "Don't frown so, Chance. I come bearing gifts." Reaching into the pocket of the riding habit, she then held out her hand to her brother. "Apple?"
    The imp! Was she afraid of anything? Ethan stepped beside Chance, knowing when to take his opportunities. "My advice, friend? Don't take it. That little Eve has already landed us both in enough trouble. Our only hope now is to join forces."
    Chance looked at Ethan, one eyebrow raised in question, before he sighed, nodded and gave in to the inevitable. "As