She stared at the letter her younger brother had left on her desk. What had he been thinking?

She pushed away from her desk and the myriad papers so haphazardly stacked upon it, and stared up at the portrait of her parents. How would they handle this situation, if they were still living? It was clear she must do something, but what? Perhaps she should send for the

solicitor in Fiddle Crossing. "Send one of the stable lads to me," she told Mrs. Honeywell. "I need someone to deliver a message right away."

"Yes, miss. But about the gentleman in the parlor. I don't think you can ignore him, you see-"

"A gentleman should know better than to call this early in the morning."

"But we've always been early risers here-"

"He can leave his card. Just… just tell him whatever you must!" she exclaimed with an agitated wave of her hand.

"Is everything all right, Miss Jinx?" the housekeeper asked, a frown increasing the lines on her brow. "You're not acting at all yourself."

Jinx heaved a great sigh, then slowly turned to face Mrs. Honeywell. The stout little housekeeper had been with the Benchleys for over twenty years. She'd proven her loyalty through the fat years and lean, through good times and bad. In truth, there was no reason not to tell her what Colin had done. Perhaps she might have some idea where to begin.

Jinx held the crumpled letter out to her. "Colin has done something so stupid, so outrageous, that it defies the extremes of every Benchley eccentricity to date. And as you well know, that's saying quite a lot."

Mrs. Honeywell took the letter and, squinting to see, pored over the words. "He's in love. What's so terrible about that for a lad of three and twenty? Oh." She grimaced. "He's run off to Gretna Green. Still and all, though you mayn't have wanted that for him, Jinx girl, I wouldn't call that the most outrageous thing a Bench-ley's ever done. Have you forgotten that your grandfather married his second wife on board a ship bound for India? And your father-"

"No, I haven't forgotten," Jinx interrupted. "But finish the letter. Finish it. See whom he's run off with? This Lady Alice. Oh!" She grasped her head with both hands. "How could he?"

Mrs. Honeywell frowned. "I don't believe I know a Lady Alice."

Jinx began to pace. "Of course you don't know her. I don't know her either and it's because her family is not the sort to stoop so low as to hobnob with families such as ours."

"The Benchleys are a fine family, gentlemen and ladies all, and as good as anybody," the housekeeper stated. "Besides, your uncle's a viscount and your father was a great scholar."

"Thank you, Mrs. Honeywell. Your loyalty is commendable. Unfortunately, Lady Alice's brother is not likely to be impressed with any young gentleman whose uncle is a mere viscount. He'll never countenance an untitled and penniless gentleman farmer for a brother-in-law. Here. Look." She rustled around on her desk, toppling a stack of articles about water rights in her agitation. When she found the two-month-old edition of the Sunday Times, she stabbed a finger at an item on the front page. "She's practically the most eligible young lady who came out last year. Why would she choose to run off with our Colin?"

But Jinx knew the answer to that. So did Mrs. Honeywell. "Because he's the most charming lad in the world," the older woman said, beaming with so much pride you'd think the rapscallion was her own flesh and blood. "Handsome, good-hearted, and with the most winning ways. Any sensible girl would want our Colin for a husband."

Jinx rolled her eyes and threw the outdated paper down. "Well, it won't do her a bit of good to marry him. For when her brother learns of this, he'll kill Colin. Mark my words, he will kill him."

"Now, Miss Jinx. Don't carry on so. It'll turn out all right. You know, you might take a lesson from your

brother and reconsider that offer Mr. Tonkton made for you-"

"I am not interested in marrying Herbert Tonkton and that is not the point. The situation with Colin and this Lady Alice will not turn out all right. Her brother is not the type to let it turn out all right. You forget, I had two seasons in town, and while I never met him, I saw him several times. He was the one who fought three duels and was banished from court for as many years."

That got the housekeepers attention. "The one who fought the three duels? Oh, my. I do remember. Oh, my!" she repeated. "That's why his name sounded so familiar." She pressed a knotted handkerchief to her lips. "Oh, my. Whatever are we to do, miss?"

Jinx plopped down onto the only clear space on a settee stacked with books opened to various pages. "I don't know. That's why I thought I might consult with our solicitor. He may have some idea of how to proceed."

"Oh, but there isn't time for that!"

"You may be right. Perhaps I should start after Colin right away." She jumped to her feet again. "I could take the curricle. It's old, but it's fast."

"No, no, miss. You don't understand. There's no time for that!"

"Well, what else am I to do?" Jinx exclaimed, exasperated by the fix Colin had put them in. "He's certainly not going to come back on his own."

For some reason, Mrs. Honeywell was pointing at the door, and her eyes were round as saucers. "Your gentleman caller."

"I told you, I don't have time for visitors today. I should think that perfectly obvious by now."

"But it's him."

"Him? Him who?" Then a terrible thought occurred to Jinx. A frightening thought, so awful she dared not believe it possible. "Him who?" she asked again, though this time in a whisper.

Mrs. Honeywell thrust a card at her. Jinx took it with trepidation. An exquisite example of the stationer's art. A simple, elegantly printed script. Harrison Stirling, Marquis of Hartley.

"Bees knees!" Jinx exclaimed, then sat down hard. Harrison Stirling. The murderous marquis, he was called, and hot-blooded Harry. The man was already searching for his sister-and for Colin. And he was in her front parlor! Everything she'd ever heard about the man flashed through her head. A terrible temper. A vengeful nature. He had money and power enough to buy his way back into Prinny's favor, it seemed. Six years ago he'd been considered quite the catch, though most of the young ladies had been in awe of him. Still, money and a title were a heady lure. Added to that, he was also devastatingly handsome. He'd never lacked for female companionship. But so far as she knew, he hadn't yet married. If he was that particular for himself, how much more so must he be for his only sister?

Jinx swallowed hard and tried to curb her runaway emotions. She must think! If Colin were to survive this dreadful incident, Lord Hartley must be put off the trail. The fact that he knew enough to come to Benchley House was not a good sign, but Jinx could not let that deter her.

She pushed to her feet and nervously smoothed her old kersey skirt. She must send Lord Hartley off in the wrong direction, then immediately go after Colin herself.

And once she found her charming fool of a brother and had him safe, she would wring his handsome neck- that is, unless Lord Hartley beat her to the task.

Heads would roll, Harrison vowed as he waited impatiently at the parlor window. If his information was right and Colin Benchley had run off with his sister… His hands tightened into fists. There would be hell to pay.

By rights he should have been exhausted. He'd spent the entire night grilling anyone who might have some inkling of Alice's whereabouts. Her maid had kept mum, weeping incessantly as he alternately cajoled her, then threatened her. That had been the first clue: Alice had sworn the misguided maid to secrecy. But the girl's father had proven more forthcoming. Three gold sovereigns in the man's hand, and he'd convinced the daughter swiftly enough to talk.

Still, all he'd gotten was a name. Colin Benchley. A few more inquiries at his various clubs, and he'd learned that the cad was one of the Hampshire Benchleys. The eccentric ones, not the titled ones.

He'd have strangled the man, had he been anywhere to be found in town. But Benchley was not in London, and at four in the morning Harrison had set off for Hampshire, his valet in close pursuit. A shepherd boy had directed him to Benchley House; a milkmaid in the courtyard had informed him that Master Colin was not presently in residence, but that Miss Jinx was.

Miss Jinx. What.sort of name was that? he fumed. And where in hell was she?

The door creaked and he turned, and for a moment- just one, very brief moment-he forgot what had brought him racing through the night to such an out-of-the-way place. For that one fraction of a second, he just stood there, transfixed by the woman who glided into the room.

She was not what he'd expected.

Not that she didn't live up to her odd name. But he'd expected someone older, someone frivolous and flustered because a marquis had come to call. By contrast, Jinx Benchley was young and slender, and possessed of the most outrageous mane of auburn hair he'd ever laid eyes on. She was dressed all in lavender, with splashes of yellow and green. A gypsyish scarf was draped over her shoulders. A bright ribbon fought to hold back the masses of her long, thick curls.

He caught the fragrance of her perfume, a blend of flowers and exotic spices. And with every step she made, tiny bells tinkled.

Then she spoke, and he blinked and came back to reality.

"I hope you've come to advise me where my brother is," she stated in a calm, well-modulated voice, tinged with irritation.

Harrison frowned at the woman's abrupt remark. No introduction. He gave her a curt bow. "I regret to impose upon you so early in the day, but you plainly know my mission. I am Harrison Stirling, Marquis of Hartley."

"Yes, yes. And I am Jillian Benchley, sister of Colin. Dp you bring me word of him?"

"I was advised to speak with a Miss Jinx Benchley."

She waved one hand. The bells trilled again. Where did she wear them? "I am Jinx. 'Tis a pet name given me by my father. But tell me, what word have you of Colin?"

Jinx waited breathlessly for the marquis's response. It had taken but one glance for her to know he deserved every bit of his reputation. Tall, well built, and furious. His eyes were black with suppressed rage. His hands flexed and tightened into fists, as if he imagined them wrapped around Colin's throat.

Poor Colin, she fretted, worrying her lower lip. What had he been thinking to antagonize a man like the Marquis of Hartley? But it was too late to regret Colin's folly. Now she must somehow work to ameliorate it.

She willed herself to be calm. She must do whatever necessary to divert the man, and that meant preventing Lord Hartley from setting off for Gretna Green in pursuit of the wayward couple.

She crossed the room toward him, beating back the absurd impression that she was entering a lion's den. This was her house, not his. No harm could befall her at Benchley House. "I should like to find them as soon as possible and bury any word of this unfortunate incident before it gets out," she said breezily. "As, I'm certain, do you."

He crossed his arms, presenting a truly threatening image. "I'd like to bury something, all right."

"There's no cause for such talk as that," she snapped at him. "We are dealing with two foolish young people who, no doubt, think they are in love."

"In love with her money," he scoffed.

Jinx smiled, a deliberately smug, superior smile. "You do not know my brother very well if you think that. Money does not count with him."

"Really? Then he's the only young man in England to feel that way."

She meant to control her temper. Truly she did. But rudeness toward her darling Colin, and in her own home, was too much for anyone to bear. She tilted her chin up. "Pray tell, is that why you remain unwed? You've not yet found a woman rich enough to please you?"

His eyes narrowed and for a moment Jinx thought he might loose his famous temper upon her. But what could he do, she thought, bolstering her courage. Strike her? He would not dare. Threaten to ruin her family? The Benchleys were so far removed from the Hartleys' rank in society that she was surprised he'd managed even to find Benchley House.

That left only insults and verbal sparring, and in that venue Jinx trusted herself to hold her own.

To his credit, he did not resort to any of those. Still, the frost in his voice was enough to chill her to the bone. "It is not my motives which are in question, Miss Bench-ley, but your brother's. Do you perchance know where he is?"