Dara was wrong on both counts. Jiyong was not in bed and he was not enjoying his evening. Seated in the baroque drawing room at his grandmother's town house, with his legs negligently stretched out in front of him and a bland expression upon his face, he was with three friends who'd come to welcome him home, as well as Wooyoung Jang, who'd apparently come to regale him with "amusing" stories about Dara's escapades.

After listening to Jang's tales for nearly an hour, Jiyong was not mildly exasperated, nor somewhat irritated, nor very annoyed. He was livid. While he had been lying awake at night, worrying that his adoring young wife would be out of her mind with grief, she had been setting Seoul on its ear. While he rotted in prison, Dara  has been carrying on a dozen widely publized flirtation. While he lay in chains, "Dara" had evidently pursued victory on a horse race at Gresham Green, and fought fencing with Yesung while wearing tight - fitting breeches that reportedly so distracted her opponent that the famous fencer lost the match.

If Jang were to be believed, Youngbae had apparently received six dozen offers for her hand; and her rejected suitors had taken first to arguing over her, then quarreling, and finally one of them, Andy, had actually tried to abduct her; some young Kpop singer had wrote a song for her "Ode to Dara"; and some famous athlete once announce in the media about his fascination on his wife  "Glorious Dara".

Leaning back in his chair, Jiyong crossed his long legs at the ankles, raised a brandy to his lips, and listened to Jang's voice drone on, his features carefully showing only mild amusement at his wife's antics.

It was exactly the reaction his three friends expected of him, he knew, for amongst the Quality it was understood that husbands and wives were free to do as they wished so long as they behaved with discretion. On the other hand, among the close-knit fraternity of gentlemen, it was also understood that a man was to be informed by his closest friends in as delicate a fashion as possible when his wife's antics threatened to cross the line of acceptability and cause him embarrassment. Which, Jiyong suspected, was why his friends had not tried harder to silence Jangs tonight.

If Jang hadn't chanced to arrive tonight simultaneously with Jiyong's friends, he would never have been admitted to the house. To Jiyong, he was nothing but a distant acquaintance and an irritating gossip, but the other three men in the room were Jiyong's friends. And even though they had repeatedly tried to force Jang to talk of something else besides Dara's antics, it was obvious from their carefully neutral expressions that what Jang's was saying was mostly true.

Jiyong glanced speculatively at Jang, wondering why he had bothered to dash over here so quickly to regale Jiyong with his stories. The entire ton knew that Jiyong had never regarded women as anything other than amusing bedwarmers. He was the last man on earth they might have suspected of losing his senses over a pretty face or voluptuous body. They would have been amazed had they known he'd lost his head over an enchanting, dark-haired moppet, and long before she had shown much sign of becoming a real beauty.

The four men in the drawing room on Gloucester Street would have been equally dumbfounded to know that as Jiyong languidly listened to Jang, he was seething inside. He was furious with Youngbae for letting Dara get out of hand and angry with his grandmother for not exerting some sort of control over her. Obviously. Jiyong could not change the past; however, he could drastically alter her future. But it was not Dara's antics that actually made him the angriest, or even her flirtations.

Irrationally, the thing that infuriated him the most was that they called her "Dara." Apparently everyone called her Dara. The entire population of the ton seemed to be on the most intimate terms of friendship with his wife particularly the male population. Jiyong glanced at the footman hovering in the doorway and imperceptibly shook his head, indicating that his guests' glasses were not to be replenished. Waiting until Jang paused to draw a breath, Jiyong lied curtly, "I know you'll excuse us, Jang. These gentlemen and I have business matters to discuss."

Wooyoung nodded amiably and stood up to leave, but not before he got in one more verbal : "I'm happy to have you back among us, G dragon. A pity for poor Youngbae, though. He's as mad for Dara as Donghae, Minho, Jin Won, Andy, and a few dozen others"

"Including you?" Jiyong speculated coolly.

Wooyoung's brows lifted imperturbably. "Of course."

As Wooyoung strode off, two of Jiyong's friends, Daesung Kang  Dasesung KangDaand Seungri Lee also arose to leave, looking apologetic and embarrassed. Daesung, casting about for something to say to diffuse the tension, seized on the subject of the Queen's race a two-day steeplechase event, which most of them either participated in or attended. "Do you mean to ride that black stallion of yours in the Queen's Race in September, G dragon?" Seungri asked.

"I'll ride one of my horses in it," Jiyong said, simultaneously trying to control his raging ire at Jang and call to mind the reckless joy of riding in the most important steeplechase of the year.

"Knew you would. My money's on you, if you decide to ride Satan." "Aren't you entering it?" Jiyong asked without interest.

"Naturally. But if you ride that black brute, I'm betting on you, not me. He's the fastest devil I've ever seen." Jiyong's brows snapped together in confusion. Satan, the prize foal of Jiyong's stables, had been an evil-tempered, unpredictable three-year-old when Jiyong was impressed a year ago. "You've seen the black run?"

"Indeed! Saw your wife race him in" Seungri broke off in horrified chagrin when Jiyong's jaw hardened with granite displeasure.

"She handled him quite well and didn't press him too hard, G dragon," Daesung put in desperately when he saw Jiyong's reaction.

"I'm sure your wife is merely high-spirited, G dragon," Seungri inserted in a bluff voice with more volume than conviction as he clapped Jiyong on the shoulder.

Daesung nodded instantly. "High spirits, that's all it is. Tighten her rein just a bit, and she'll be docile as a lamb."

"Docile as a lamb!" Seungri concurred promptly. Outside, both men who were avid horse-breeders and inveterate gamblers, paused on the steps to exchange dubious, looks. "Docile as a lamb?" Daesung repeated his friend's words incredulously, "If G Dragon but tightens her rein?"

Daesung grinned. "Of course but first he'll have to get the bit between her teeth, and to do it he'll have to hobble her. She's going to fight him when G dragon tries to tame her to his hand, you mark my word. She has more spirit than the average female and, I suspect, more pride."

Seungri closed his eyes in amused disagreement. "You're discounting G dragon's extraordinary effect on women. In a few weeks, she'll be doting on him. By the day of the Queen's Race, she'll be tying her ribbon on his sleeve and cheering for him. Young Wilson and his friend Fairchild have already placed bets on exactly that. The odds in the book at White's are already four to one in favor of G dragon wearing her ribbon."

"You're wrong, my friend. She's going to give G dragon a devil of a time." "Not a chance. She was besotted with him when she came to town. Have you forgotten what a complete cake she made of herself over him a few weeks back? Since G dragon walked into church this morning, that's all everyone's talking about."

"I know, and I'll wager she hasn't forgotten it either," said Daesung bluntly. "I'm acquainted with G dragon's wife and the lady has pride, her pride will prevent her from falling easily into his arms, you mark my words."

With a challenging lift of his brows, Seungri, declared, "I have 5 million KRW that says she'll give G dragon her ribbon to wear in the Queen's Race."

"You're on," Daesung agreed without hesitation, and they headed off to White's to relax and gamble in that exclusive gentlemen's club but not to record this particular bet. It would be kept private, out of respect for their friend.

When Daesung and Seungri were gone, Jiyong walked over to the side table and refilled his glass. The anger he had carefully concealed from the others was evident now in the tautness of his clenched jaw as he glanced at his closest friend Top,  . "I sincerely hope," he drawled with biting irony, "that you haven't remained here because you, too, know of some further indiscretion of Sandara's, which you perhaps feel compelled to repeat to me privately?"

Top gave a sharp bark of laughter. "Hardly. When Jang was speaking of your wife's race in Hydes park, he distinctly mentioned the name 'Bom.' I believe he indicated that Bom was cheering your wifes on to victory in both cases."

Jiyong took a swallow of his drink. "So?" "Bom," Top declared, "is my wife." The glass in Jiyong's hand stopped en route to his mouth. "What?" "I'm married." "Really?" Jiyong dourly replied. "Why?" Top grinned. "I couldn't seem to help myself."

"In that case, permit me to offer my belated congratulations," Jiyong said sardonically. He lifted his glass in a mockery of a toast, then checked himself as years of good breeding came to the surface. "I apologize for my rudeness, Top. At the moment, marriage is not high on my list of reasons for celebration. Is your Bom anyone I know? Have I met her?"

"I should hope not!" Top declared with laughing exaggeration. "She made her bow just as you left town, which is all to the good. You'd have found her irresistible, and I'd have had to call you out now that you've returned."

"Your reputation was not a great deal better than mine." "I was never even in your league," Top joked, making an obvious attempt to lighten his friend's spirits. "If I cast an appraising eye over an appealing Miss, her mama summoned an additional chaperone. When you did it, every mama in sight fell into spasms of terror and violent hope. Of course, Im not like you, which accounts for part of their anxiety and eagerness."

"I can't recall that I ever dallied with virtuous innocents," Jiyong said, sitting down and staring into his glass.

"You didn't. But if your wife and mine have enough in common to become friends, I can only assume they're much alike. In which case, you're in for a life of torment."

"Why?" Jiyong asked politely. "Because you won't know from one day to the next what she's going to take it into her head to do and when you do find out, it will scare the hell out of you. Bom told me this afternoon that she's with child, and I already have the liveliest fear she'll misplace the babe when he's born."

"She's forgetful?" Jiyong asked, trying without success to appear to be interested in his best friend's new wife.

John raised his brows and shrugged. "She must be. How else could she have forgotten to mention, when I returned from Japan late today, that she and my best friend's wife whom I haven't yet met have been involved in several imbroglios together?"

Realizing his attempt to make light of Jiyong's predicament was less than successful, Top hesitated and then he said gravely, "What do you intend to do about your wife?"

"I have several choices and right now they're all appealing," Jiyong said curtly. "I can wring her neck, put her under guard, or send her to Devon tomorrow and keep her there, out of the public eye." "Good God, G dragon, you can't do that. After what happened in church today, people will think”" "I don't give a damn what people think," Jiyong interrupted, but in this case it was not the truth and both men knew it. Jiyong was becoming increasingly furious at the idea of being made to look like a public laughingstock who couldn't control his own wife.

"Perhaps she is merely high-spirited," Top ventured. "Bom knows her and likes her very well." Standing up to leave, he said, "If you're in a mood for it, join us at White's tomorrow evening. We're convening there to drink a toast to my impending fatherhood."

"I'll be there," Jiyong said with a forced smile. When Top left, Jiyong stared unseeing at the landscape framed above the mantel, wondering how many lovers Dara had taken to her bed. He had seen the loss of innocence, the disillusionment, in her eyes when they were alone in the drawing room this afternoon. Once, her magnificent eyes had been candid and trusting and soft when she looked at him. Now their radiance was dimmed with cold animosity.

Anger raged through Jiyong like wildfire as he contemplated the reason Dara had treated him with such wary hostility today: She was sorry he wasn't dead. The artless, adoring child he had married was angry now because he was alive! The bewitching young girl he had wed had turned into a cold, calculating, beautiful .

He considered a divorce for a few minutes, then discarded the idea. Aside from the scandal, a divorce could take years to obtain, and he wanted an heir. The Kwon men seemed to be cursed with short lifespans, and even if Dara proved to be as lacking in virtue and decorum as she now seemed, she could still bear his children for him in seclusion if necessary, to make certain the children she gave him were his, not someone else's.

Leaning his head against the back of his chair, Jiyong closed his eyes and drew a long, harsh breath trying to bring his temper under control. When he finally managed to do that, it occurred to him that he was condemning Dara and deciding her future on the basis of common gossip. He owed his life to the artless, unspoiled girl he believed he had married. Surely, he also owed her the right to defend herself.

Tomorrow, he decided, he would confront her openly with the things he had heard from Jang tonight and give her a chance to deny them. She was entitled to that, provided she was not fool enough to lie to him. But if it became clear that she was indeed a scheming opportunist or voluptuous little wanton, then he would tame her with the ruthlessness she deserved.

She would either bend to his will, or he would break her to it, but either way she would learn to behave herself like a good and dutiful wife, he decided with cold resolve.