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Lenora wasn’t a timid mouse but rather chose discretion over confrontation.

She cut him a mischievous glance, the merest hint of a smile playing about the edges of her soft lips. “I know it’s not fashionable amongst the ton, but mornings are my favorite time of day.”

“Half of eight, you say?” Jason curved his mouth into an unabashed, sideways smile.

She nodded again. “Indeed. My maid accompanies me because Mama doesn’t rise early. I feed bread crumbs to the ducks swimming in the Serpentine. On occasion, an impish squirrel or a magpie will demand a piece too.”

Jason chuckled as he led her down the corridor toward the voices drifting from the salon. “The crust is my favorite part, and cooks everywhere are forever cutting them from my bread.”

Lenora giggled, turning her face upward to meet his gaze. “I like the crust too. Mrs. Cox always saves me an end piece for breakfast. Toasted with marmalade.”

“I’ve never tasted marmalade.”

“It’s scrumptious.” She closed her eyes and made a soft, humming noise. “Mmm.”

Jason’s groin tightened at the sensual image and sound. A sudden desire to see her laid out upon his bed, that glorious hair fanned out across his pillows, his rich port-colored counterpane a backdrop for her ivory body…

Lenora had no idea what she did to him.

He cleared his throat and steered his musings in a safer, less lustful direction. The last thing he needed was a raging cockstand when he encountered his host.

“I’ll see if I can charm my cook into giving me a few scraps too.” This was a first. Plotting to feed ducks so that Jason might enjoy the pleasure of Lenora’s company.

“Should I accompany you inside?” He angled his chin toward the open doorway. “I don’t wish for you to suffer your brother’s wrath.”

“Oh, Landry’s not that sort.” Lenora squeezed his arm. “He’s protective, yes, but he won’t begrudge you bringing your grandmother today.”

“She has been most determined to see you.” He chuckled. “You’ve become quite a heroine to her. She told me she hasn’t experienced this much excitement in decades.”

As they entered the salon, Jason was very conscious of the slight lull in the conversations and the many inquisitive gazes turned to regard them. Including Keyworth’s. In a room thronging with people, of course, he’d be one of the first to notice Jason and Lenora’s entrance.

An expression very similar to a thundercloud descended upon his features, but before he could stomp his way across the thick Aubusson carpet, Grandmother waved Jason and Lenora over.

Keyworth would not make a public scene. He was too controlled and polite to do so, and he wouldn’t humiliate Lenora. Nonetheless, he leveled Jason an ominous glare.

Jason grinned, and it became a silent challenge between two dominant males.

Keyworth’s wife tugged on his arm and, standing on her toes, said something into his ear.

At once, his countenance cleared, and he bestowed a tender smile upon her. He placed a palm on her tummy and kissed her cheek in full view of all.

Now, that Jason approved of.

Keyworth wasn’t afraid to show his wife affection like most stuffy Brits were.

With a regal tilt of her head in Jason’s direction, Lady Keyworth angled her husband toward a group on the opposite side of the room.

Was the countess subtly aiding Jason?

He distinctly heard the words snow and winter carnival drift from amid the cluster of people. It had looked like snow when he’d helped Grandmother from the coach earlier.

Lady Keyworth was a perceptive woman. And one who knew how to handle her husband, although the earl didn’t appear worse for wear for having ceded to his beautiful wife.

Did marriage do that to a man?

Turn him into a spineless wretch? A malleable puppet?

No, but love did. Standing above most men at six inches over six feet, Jason's own father became as docile as a puppy when it came to pleasing his wife.