A Rose at Midnight by Anne Stuart

her anything less than a dutiful husband. His close call with Miss Stanley had given him a proper appreciation for the joys of bachelorhood, and he simply hadn’t been in any hurry to dispense with its pleasures in exchange for monogamy and duty.
    The Reverend Alvin Purser had crept up behind his back when he wasn’t looking. Just when he’d thought he had plenty of time, with Ellen safely ensconced at Ainsley Hall, Carmichael had announced his sister’s engagement.
    Tony had considered declaring himself at that point, then thought better of it. He prided himself on being a decent man, and Carmichael assured him that Ellen was head over heels in love. If he’d had any notion that she wasn’t quite so enamored of her little minister, he might have done something about it. But he took his friend’s word for it and decided to look elsewhere for a bride. Unfortunately no one had even come close to Ellen’s qualifications.
    And when the idiotic reverend had jilted her, she’d taken off for the continent before he had a chance to make his move a few dangerous weeks into the already dubious Peace of Amiens. When she returned she had her friend, the mysterious female chef, in tow, and a new, wary air to her.
    He’d worked damned hard at getting her to relax once more around him. The reverend had done more damage than Tony would have thought possible, and it would take time getting Ellen to come to heel once more.
    He had more than enough time, and so did she. While she was safely on the shelf, she was still only in her mid-twenties, time and enough to provide him with a suitable brood of children, including an heir. If he had any sense at all he’d give it another year or two.
    The problem was, he’d lately been growing impatient. Been wondering whether cohabiting with a good woman might not be quite as boring as he anticipated, given that the good woman was Ellen. He’d been very wary at Christmas, afraid the sentiment of the season and his own restlessness might push him into doing something uncharacteristically impulsive. He’d kept away since then, trying to take his time.
    But he’d been unable to keep away any longer. Maybe it was past time to become just the slightest bit impulsive.
    He shifted in his seat again, and Ellen glanced at him. “You hate this,” she said. “You shouldn’t have insisted on accompanying me, Tony. I’m more than capable of traveling the distance between my brother’s house and mine without you. Binnie keeps me very good company, and Carmichael employs only the most reliable of coachmen.”
    Tony glanced over at the admirable Miss Binnerston, now snoring softly as her becapped head drooped over her nonexistent bosom. “I would hope my company would be slightly more enlivening,” he drawled.
    A faint, attractive flush darkened her soft cheeks. “Of course you are, Tony. But I didn’t want to drag you all over the countryside in this miserable weather. I just wanted to get home. I know my fears are ridiculous, but I’m not going to rest easy until I know that… that things are all right.”
    “That your little chef is all right. Ghislaine—isn’t that her name? Why didn’t she accompany you in the first place? I’m sure Carmichael’s staff would have made her welcome.”
    “Actually the servants don’t tend to care much for her. She’s too foreign, too self-contained for them. She’s not a servant, Tony. She’s my friend.”
    “I hate to sound repressive, sweetheart, but you can’t make friends of your servants. For one thing, they don’t like it above half. Servants have the strongest class sense of any group I know, and it goes against their dignity to be treated like a friend.”
    “I’ve told you, she’s not like other people. I owe her a very great deal, and it’s not something I can easily explain.”
    “You don’t have to. I’ll simply take your word for it.”
    She looked across at him, quite startled, and he wondered how long it had been since