A Dangerous Love by Brenda Joyce Page A

altar immediately after taking his vows. Needless to say, that had caused an even greater scandal. As far as Ariella knew, neither husband nor wife had set eyes upon each other since.
    He strode to her, but before he could embrace her, his smile faded and his stare became searching. “What is wrong?” he asked instantly.
    â€œIs Elysse with you?” she queried, hoping to distract him. Besides, she loved Elysse as a sister and wished she were happily married to Alexi.
    His face hardened. “Do not start.”
    Nothing had changed. Whatever had happened, Alexi would never forgive Elysse and never forget. She sighed and hugged him, standing on tiptoe to do so. “You are such an impossible man. I love you, anyway.” She finally smiled, and it was almost genuine. “You promised to be in London for my birthday, but instead, you sent that impossible gift!” He’d sent her a music box inlaid with semiprecious stones and filigreed with gold from Istanbul. It must have cost him a small fortune.
    He set her at arm’s length. “I am sorry I missed your birthday, but I explained in my note that we were becalmed. You look unhappy.”
    Ariella moved past him. She glimpsed her Aunt Lizzie, the Countess of Adare, in an adjacent room, chatting happily with Amanda. Her cousin, Margery, smiled at her and they hugged. “I am so happy to see you,” Margery said. Like her mother, she was a pretty, buxom strawberry blonde. “Even though it’s only been a few weeks, there is so much to catch up on.”
    Margery spent a great deal of the year in London, too. “How was your trip? You have arrived so early!” Ariella said.
    â€œWe had an easy journey, thanks to the new rail,” she replied. “You do look a bit peaked, Ariella. Are you all right?”
    â€œI couldn’t sleep a wink last night,” Ariella said. She was afraid to look at Alexi. He was scrutinizing her far too closely.
    â€œThe Gypsy music kept her awake,” Dianna said. “I had a bit of a problem falling asleep, as well.”
    Ariella felt her cheeks warm. She stole a glance at her brother, but he had strode to the terrace doors. He stared across the lawns toward the brightly painted wagons of the caravan.
    â€œA Gypsy woman came to the door at Harmon House a year or so ago,” Margery said. “I was the only one at home and I happened to notice how shabbily she was dressed before our doorman could send her away. She begged to tell my fortune. I only wanted to give her a meal, but she read my palm.”
    â€œAnd did her fortune come true?” Dianna asked.
    â€œWell, as she predicted a terribly handsome man as dark as the night riding in on a white charger, no.” Margery laughed. “How unfortunate.”
    Alexi turned. “She was hustling you, obviously.”
    â€œShe was too proud to accept a meal without offering a service,” Ariella refuted. Her tone must have been strong, because everyone stared.
    Alexi’s interest had become intense. Ariella said, “I went to their camp with Father. I haven’t seen Romany people since I was a child. That was in Ireland, Alexi, do you recall?”
    â€œYes, I do. Father’s stallion was stolen and he was furious for a week.”
    She crossed her arms and stiffened. “It was unfortunate,” she began.
    â€œIt was a felony,” he said grimly.
    She walked over to him, her temper flaring dangerously. She knew she should control it—she never lost her temper and everyone would know something was afoot. But she couldn’t hold it at bay. “So all Gypsies are horse thieves, fortune-tellers, hustlers and criminals?”
    He towered over her. “I did not say any such thing. I have encountered Romany all over the world. They are great musicians—in Russia, the Crown has a Romany choir, as do many of the great nobles. In Hungary, Romany musicians are the rage and they play in the