But first, he'd set Minnie's heart at rest.

He found her propped on her pillows, eyes expectantly wide. Timms was present; Patience was not. Quickly, concisely, he explained and reassured. Then he left Timms to tuck Minnie, at ease once again, up for the night.

He knew they were grinning behind his back, but was not about to acknowledge it. Shutting Minnie's door with a definite click, he turned and strode down the corridor.

With a token, peremptory tap, he opened Patience's door and walked in, then shut it behind him. Rising from the chair by the hearth, she blinked, then resettled the shawl she'd draped over her shoulders, and calmly waited.

Beneath the soft shawl, she was wearing a fine silk nightgown, cinched with a drawstring under her breasts. And nothing else.

The blaze in the hearth roared.

One hand on the doorknob, Vane drank in the sight, luscious curves and sleek limbs outlined by the flames. The embers inside him ignited; a rush of fiery lust seared his veins. He straightened and slowly stalked toward her.

"Gerrard's with Devil and Honoria at St. Ives House." The words fell from his lips slowly, as, starting at her nightgown's hem, he let his gaze rise, noting the fascinating way the silk clung to each curve, to her long, sleek thighs, rounded hips, the soft swell of her belly, how it cradled the warm globes of her breasts. Her nipples peaked as his gaze feasted.

She tightened her hold on her shawl. "Was that part of your plan?"

Halting before her, Vane lifted his gaze to her face. "Yes. I hadn't imagined Bow Street, but something along those lines was in the cards. Someone had, from the first, tried to cast Gerrard as the thief."

"What happened?" Patience's words were breathless; her lungs had seized. She held Vane's gaze and tried not to shiver. Not with fear, but anticipation. The stark planes of his face, the silvery flames in his eyes, all screamed of reined passion.

He studied her eyes, then raised one brow. "By the time I reached Bow Street, Devil had descended and whisked Gerrard away. I followed them to St. Ives House. According to Gerrard, he didn't even have time to look around Bow Street before Devil arrived, courtesy of Sligo. He must have run all the way to Grosvenor Square."

Her eyes locked on his, Patience licked her lips. "He's really been a big help over this business."

"Indeed. As he could swear that the stolen goods were not in Gerrard's room yesterday, and nor was the sack in which they were found, the magistrate was understandably diffident over laying any charge." Vane's lips lifted. "Particularly with Devil leaning on the charge desk."

Bracing one hand on the mantelpiece, he leaned closer. Decidedly giddy, Patience tilted her chin. "I suspect your cousin enjoys intimidating people."

Vane's lips quirked. His gaze lowered to her lips. "Let's just say Devil's rarely backward in exercising his authority, especially in support of one of the family."

"I… see." Her gaze fixed on his long lips, Patience decided to let his description of Gerrard as "family" pass unchallenged. The tension investing his large frame, so close beside her, was fascinating-and deliciously unnerving.

"The magistrate decided something odd was going on. The report hadn't come from Minnie, and, of course, there was the matter of Sligo, Devil's servant, masquerading as Minnie's hired help. He couldn't understand it, so he elected to make no finding at present. He released Gerrard into Devil's care, pending any further developments."

"And Gerrard?"

"I left him happily ensconced with Devil and Honoria. Honoria told me to tell you they were grateful for the excuse to stay home. While they keep up appearances, they only came to town to catch up with the family. They'll be returning to Somersham any day."

Patience licked her lips again; under his gaze, they'd started to throb. "Will that-them leaving town-create problems if Gerrard's still in Devil's care?"

"No." Vane lifted his gaze to her eyes. "I'll assume the charge!"

Patience mouthed a silent "Oh."

"But tell me." Vane pushed away from the mantelpiece and straightened. "Has anything happened here?" He started to unbutton his coat.

"No." Patience managed to find enough breath for a sigh. "Alice hasn't been sighted since this morning." She glanced at Vane. "She saw you in the corridor last night."

Vane frowned, and shrugged out of his coat. "What the devil was she doing up at that hour?"

Patience shrugged, and watched him toss his coat on the chair. "Whatever, she didn't come down for dinner. Everyone else did, but all were understandably subdued."

"Even Henry?"

"Even Henry. Whitticombe preserved a censorious silence. The General spent the entire time grumbling, and snapping at anyone who loomed in his path. Edgar and Edith kept their heads down, together for the most part, whispering. About what I know not." Vane's fingers closed about the buttons of his waistcoat. Patience drew a tight breath. "Edmond's succumbed to his muse again. Angela is quietly happy because she got her comb back. Henry, however, was idling about because he couldn't find anyone with whom to play billiards."

Patience shifted, giving Vane space to strip off his waistcoat. "Oh-there was one point of interest-Mrs. Chadwick quietly asked Minnie and me if she could search Gerrard's bureau for her missing earring. Poor dear, it seemed the least we could do. I went with her-we searched high and low, and through all the other drawers, too. There was no sign of it anywhere."

She turned to Vane-just as he freed his cravat and drew the long strip from his neck. His gaze on her, he held it between his hands. "So," he murmured, his tone deep, "nothing of any moment happened here."

Her gaze transfixed by the long strip of linen, Patience tried to speak and couldn't-she shook her head.

"Good." The word was a feral purr. With a negligent flick, Vane sent the cravat to join his coat. "So there's nothing to distract you."

Patience dragged her gaze up to his face. "Distract me?"

"From the subject we need to discuss."

"You want to discuss something?" She hauled in a breath and tried to steady her giddy head.

Vane trapped her gaze. "You. Me." His face hardened. "Us."

With a supreme effort, Patience raised her brows. "What about 'us'?"

A muscle in his jaw flickered. From the corner of her eye, she saw his fist clench. "I," he declared, "have reached the end of my tether."

He stepped toward her; she took a sliding step back.

"I do not approve of any situation that leaves you a target for the likes of such as the Colbys-regardless of whether said situation arises from my actions or otherwise." His lips a thin line, he stepped forward; Patience instinctively edged back. "I cannot, and will not, condone any scenario whereby your reputation is in any way sullied-even by me with the best of intentions."

He continued to stalk her; she continued to retreat. Patience longed to whirl around and scurry out of his reach, but she didn't dare take her eyes from his. "What are you doing here then?"

She was trapped, mesmerized-she knew he'd soon pounce. As if to confirm that, his eyes narrowed, and he tugged his shirt from his waistband. Without taking his eyes from her, he started undoing the buttons, still advancing, still forcing her to retreat. Toward the bed.

"I'm here"-he bit the words off-"because I can't see any sense in being anywhere else. You're mine-henceforth, you sleep with me. As you're sleeping here at the moment, ergo, so do I. If my bed is not yet yours, then yours will have to be mine."

"You just said you didn't want my reputation sullied."

His shirt fell fully open. He continued to advance. Patience didn't know where to look. Where she most wanted to look.

"Precisely. So you'll have to marry me. Soon. Which is what we need to discuss." With that, he looked down, and unlaced his cuffs.