"Good morning," she echoed, slipping her missive into the pocket of her black bombazine gown.

He approached her slowly, stopping when he stood directly across the table from her. Cupping his chin in his hand, he made a great show of looking her over, inclining his head left, then right, like an art critic studying a sculpture.

"Hmmm. Just as I suspected. You're looking V.M.I." At her questioning look, he shot her a jaunty grin. "Very Much Improved. How do you feel?"

"As you say, VM.I. Head, hands, feet-they barely hurt at all. And you?"

"Vastly better than when I saw you last. Amazing what wonders a few hours' sleep, a substantial breakfast, and a chat with the magistrate will wrought."

"What did he say?"

"He found the case most puzzling." Moving to the sideboard, he helped himself to a plate of ham and eggs, then sat opposite her at the long mahogany table. "While he assured me he'd do his utmost to locate the man responsible, he also warned me that it is unlikely the perpetrator will ever be found. Unless, of course, he was to strike again." He fixed her with a serious dark blue stare. "Which he won't do at this town house since there will be no one to abduct as there will be no one wandering about in the gardens. Correct?"

She inclined her head in acquiescence.

"Excellent. Now, regarding your plans for today… I’ve arranged for a carriage to be at your disposal. I am also at your disposal, available to squire you around town, or escort you to the shops, assist you with any errands… whatever you'd like."

Her fingers brushed the edge of Mr. Fitzmoreland's letter. "Actually, there is something you might be able to help me with. Do you know the earl of Shelbourne?"

His brows lifted in obvious surprise. After what seemed to be a prolonged silence, he said, "I am acquainted with him, yes."

Questions clearly lurked in his eyes, but he said nothing further, just watched her in a way that left her wondering if he and the earl were on bad terms. When it became obvious he wasn't going to elaborate, she pushed on, "Do you know where he lives?"

His egg-laden fork froze halfway to his mouth. A wary expression, filled with something else she couldn't define, came over his face. "His family seat is in Cornwall."

"I see. Is that far from here?"

"Very. At least a week's traveling time."

Robert watched her expression turn crestfallen, and a dozen questions buzzed through his mind. Why on earth would she inquire about Geoffrey Hadmore? How had she even heard of him? Clearing his throat, he added, "He also keeps a residence here in town."

Unmistakable hope leapt into her eyes. "Do you think it possible he is in London?"

"I think it most likely. He detests the country. Why do you ask about him?"

She leaned forward and a tantalizing whiff of her flowery scent drifted across to him. While she did not smile, there was no denying this was the most animated he'd seen her features, a fact that both confused and, irrationally, annoyed him. Her eyes were all but sparkling. Bloody hell, why was she so… whatever she was, at the prospect that Shelbourne was in town?

"I wish to meet him. As soon as possible. Could you arrange the introduction?"

He leaned back, studying her. An introduction? To one of the worst rogues in London? Good God, Elizabeth would have his head. Not to mention the tight feeling that cramped his stomach at the thought of the very eligible earl meeting the lovely widow. True, he didn't know Shelbourne very well, but the man's reputation with women was well known. He charmed them, bedded them, then discarded them frequently, with a cold dispassion that Robert neither liked nor understood. There was no doubt in his mind that the beautiful Mrs. Brown would capture Shelbourne's interest. As she’s captured yours.

His teeth clenched at his inner voice's unwanted opinion, and he refocused his attention to the matter at hand. What possible reason could she have for wanting to meet such a libertine? He suddenly stilled. Was there a chance she was already aware of Shelbourne's reputation? Could she possibly be contemplating a liaison with the man?

His hands fisted at the mere thought. Instead of answering her question, he posed one of his own. "I wasn't aware you knew anyone in England save Elizabeth. How did you come to hear about Shelbourne?"

"He… he knew my husband."

Some of the tension drained from his shoulders, and he mentally chastised himself for his unwarranted suspicions. She simply wished to become acquainted with a friend of her husband's. Perfectly understandable. And as long as he accompanied her, Shelbourne would behave. "In that case, I shall send round a note to his town house requesting an audience. If he is in town, I'll escort you."

A curtain seemed to fall over her expression. "Thank you. I appreciate you sending the note, however, I do not require an escort."

Something that felt suspiciously like jealousy, but couldn't possibly be, rippled through him, a feeling made all the more pronounced by the crimson blush staining her cheeks. Perhaps his suspicions weren't unfounded after all. Forcing a smile, he said, "I'm afraid I must insist. English protocol and all that, you know."

A frown creased her brow, and she worried her lower lip between her teeth, clearly torn between not wanting his company and not wishing to flout propriety. And if he weren't so distracted by the sight of her nibbling on her full lip, he'd no doubt be colossally annoyed at her not wanting him around.

Finally, she nodded stiffly. "Very well. You may accompany me."

In spite of his annoyance, he couldn't help but be a tiny bit amused at her disgruntled tone. "Why, thank you."

She rose. "I shall leave you to attend to your correspondence to the earl."

"Again I thank you. However, I hardly ever write letters in the breakfast room. Nothing worse than eggs on the vellum. As soon as I finish my meal, I'll compose a note."

Her blush deepened. "Forgive me. I'm merely anxious to…"

Her words drifted off, and he found himself very much wanting her to finish the sentence. Yes, Mrs. Brown… what exactly are you anxious to do?

But instead of satisfying his ever-growing curiosity, she inclined her head. "As I have my own correspondence to see to, I shall bid you good day, sir."

She swiftly departed the room before he had a chance to reply. Clearly she considered him dismissed-at least until such time as he received a response from Shelbourne. And if not for the events of last evening, he might have left her to her own devices. Indeed, he had planned to visit his solicitor today.

But last night had changed his plans. He could visit his solicitor another day. Until he delivered her safely to Bradford Hall, he intended to keep a very close eye on her.

Her lovely face rose in his mind's eye and he stifled a groan. He'd claimed when he'd arrived that a few hours' sleep had wrought wonders, but his sleep had been anything but refreshing.

Indeed, the moment he'd climbed into his bed his thoughts had been filled with her. The feel of her soft body pressed against him. Her scent curling around him. Her eyes, wide with a combination of fear and strength, that filled him with both concern and admiration. And something else. Something warm that spread through him like honey. And something heated that fired his blood and left him restless and frustrated and aching. He'd lain in his bed unable to erase her from his mind. And when he'd finally drifted off, she'd invaded his dreams. She'd shed her black clothing and beckoned him. He'd reached for her, filled with hunger, but before he could touch her, she'd vanished, like a wisp of smoke. He'd awakened feeling empty and bereft. And aroused as hell.

No, keeping an eye on her wouldn't pose a problem.

Unfortunately, he suspected that keeping his hands off her would.


********

Geoffrey Hadmore paced the length of his private study. Afternoon sunlight cut a bright path across the Persian carpet, faint dust motes danced in the swatch. Pausing at the fireplace, he glared at the mantel clock. Half past one. Exactly three minutes later than when he had last glared at the damn instrument.

Where the hell was Redfern? Why had he not heard from the bastard? There could only be one reason: He had failed. Again.

Or perhaps Redfern has it in his mind to cross me somehow? A combination of unease and fury tightened his hands into fists. Surely Redfern wouldn't be stupid enough to attempt such a thing. Geoffrey forced his hands to relax, then flexed his stiff fingers. No, Redfern might not be a scholar, but he was no fool. He knew better than to cross him. Yet if he were foolish enough… well, then, it would be the last foolish thing Redfern ever did.

Bending down, he gently petted Thorndyke's silky, fire-warmed brown fur. The dozing mastiff lifted its massive head. "Ah, Thorndyke, if only Redfern were as trustworthy as you, I'd not be in this mess."

Thorndyke made a sympathetic noise deep in his throat. Geoffrey patted his smooth head one last time, then rose to once again pace the room. This time he halted at his desk. Grabbing a piece of vellum, he composed a quick note. Not bothering to summon Willis with the bellcord, he strode into the foyer and handed the note to the butler.

"I want this delivered. Immediately." He rattled off Red-fern's direction. "If he's there, wait for a reply. If not, leave it."

"Yes, my lord."

"I'll be at my club. Bring any correspondence from him there as soon as you have it."


********

Redfern held the wax-sealed letter in his hand. He knew who it was from. He didn't even need to read the bloody thing to know what it contained. He hadn't answered the persistent knocking on his door, not retrieving the note until the man had finally left.

But now the hour of reckoning were at hand. And he'd failed. Failed to find the ring, failed to get rid of Mrs. Brown. How had his plan gone so awry? Oh, things had started off swimmingly, with Mrs. Brown even presenting herself in the garden, like a gift, saving him the trouble of snatching her from the house. Even coshing the bloke in the alley hadn't proved much of a problem.

Yes, with the two of them well out of the way and tied up nice and pretty, he'd nipped back to the town house. Only had to find the ring. Then he could finish off Mrs. Brown. Would have to get rid of the bloke as well. The earl surely wouldn't want any witnesses flappin' their gums. Maybe he'd even ask the earl for a bonus, seein' as how he had to kill two people instead of one. Yes, things were lookin' rosy indeed.

But after searching for over an hour, he hadn't found the ring. Panic edged down his spine. If he didn't find that ring, he wouldn't get his blunt. But he'd looked everywhere. Had even put everything back in its place so no one would suspect anything. He'd just have to tell the earl there just weren't no ring-a prospect that cramped his belly.

The earl's final words had echoed in his mind. Find that ring. And if you do, I want her gone. Well, what the bloody blue blazes were he supposed to do with Mrs. Brown if he didn't find the ring? Kill her? Let her go?

He'd think about it on his way back to the warehouse. Surely by the time he arrived he'd know what to do.

Yet when he'd returned, all that were left of Mrs. Brown and the bloke had been a pile of cut ropes. Bastard must have had a blade on him. Bloody rotten bit o' bad luck that was. Never in his entire career had circumstances thwarted him so. But the earl wouldn't be interested in hearin' about no unforeseen circumstances.

Now, with a trembling hand, he broke the seal and read the terse message. Sweat broke out on his brow. There were no mistaking the earl's meaning.

He had to find that ring. Today.

If he didn't, he were a dead man.

And Lester Redfern had no intention of dying.


********

Allie exited her bedchamber clutching the letter she'd just sealed. Walking quickly down the curving staircase, she entered the foyer. She'd expected to see Carters, but instead a young footman stood near the door.

"I'd like to have a letter delivered," she said. "To the earl of Shelbourne's London residence."

"Of course, ma'am." He held out his gloved hand. "I'll see to it at once."

Allie handed over the missive with a prayer that the earl was indeed in town. Hopefully Lord Robert had already sent off his note. He should have… she'd left him in the breakfast room over two hours ago. Surely enough time for him to go home and compose a short letter.