"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Jinx rolled her eyes and threw the outdated paper down.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.