"Allow me to drive you, my lady," he said swiftly. "I was just on my way to call at the Hall; my landau stops outside."

"No, no, there's no need. They brought the Shelford carriage." She was f lustered at the way he looked at her so. "Please don't trouble yourself."

"Then do me the honor of riding with me," he insisted. "It's coming on to rain; I can take you home directly. We'll send a message to let them know."

Lilly appeared at the door, making a light cough. Callie turned to her, thankful for the diversion. "Yes, what is it?"

"Madame says that if the men must search the house, then they ought to do it this very minute," the maid said with a curtsy. "She wishes to have it over directly."

Lilly stood with her eyes lowered. Callie had no trouble reaching the obvious conclusion that Trev had concealed himself or got away somehow. She turned to Major Sturgeon. "Well, then." She lifted her eyebrows. "Here is your opportunity, sir."

He bowed his head slightly, but still he observed her in the oddest manner, as if he would make note of her every smallest move. He had been suspicious of Trev in the house; now he seemed suspicious of her too. But he said only, "If you prefer that we not disturb the duch esse, then I won't have anyone come into the house, now or in the future. Let us simply drive on to Shelford Hall, shall we? I'm at your service." He bowed.

Callie judged that it was best to remove him from the place, even if Trev had hidden himself. She gave a curt nod. "Then let us go. Lilly, you'll give my compliments to Madame, and please tell her that she needn't fear any further intrusion."

Outside, her judgment of the preferred course of action took a sudden turn. As she passed through the door ahead of the major, she glanced up at the landau, which had both of its canopies raised to make it a closed carriage in the inclement weather. The driver sat up on his perch with his back to them, hunched down against the mist, a shapeless hat pulled over his eyes.

She almost stopped in her tracks. Then she forced herself not to pause or stare at the driver, who had an all-too-familiar cut of black hair just barely showing under the hat. She made a great demonstration of being unable to lift her shawl over her hat to cover it, which required such aid from the major as kept his attention occupied until they reached the carriage door. He held it open for her and Callie stepped up inside.

As Major Sturgeon swung in beside her, he called out a command to drive on. The vehicle jerked into motion. He sat back on the seat and turned to her.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" he said.

She sat bolt upright. "I beg your pardon."

"I understand you now." He gave a slight laugh. "You're carrying a torch for that French scoundrel. That's why you don't want me to touch you and asked me to call off the Runners."

In spite of the fact that it was nothing but the whole ghastly truth, Callie exclaimed, "Are you mad?" She sat away from him. "The poor duchesse is my friend. I don't want her to be tortured while she's ill."

"Certainly," he agreed. "I understand that."

He said nothing more but merely looked ahead at the black leather of the landau's canopy, a slight frown on his strong, handsome features. Callie was beyond any words. She kept expecting him to call off the engagement, but he did not. She stared out the window at the gray sky and slowly passing fields.

As the carriage turned in at the gates of the Hall, the major said, "You're better off with me, you know." His voice was not unkind. "I won't tell you what sort of man he is-I think you're well aware, or you would have run away with him already. But that's an ill way to win you, is it not? Disparaging my rival for your heart." He lifted her hand and kissed it lightly. "I'll strive to make my own place in your affections."

"I'm sure-there's no necessity-I do not require-"

He released her before she could pull away. "Do you say I must not make the attempt?" He gave a wry smile. "Will you be that cruel to me, my dear heart?"

Callie looked at him in astonishment. "Please, I would prefer that we-"

"That we go our own ways. Yes, I comprehend you. Completely. I only ask that, as you have been so generous as to say I may take any woman I choose, you allow me to choose you."

The carriage rolled to a halt beside the stairs. A Shelford footman stepped briskly forward, opening the door. He would have helped her out, but Major Sturgeon jumped down first and held up his hand. Callie had no choice but to take it or remain confined in the coach, which seemed like a promising course of action when she thought about it. She could just take up residence there and simplify her life. As she descended the steps, she took one sideways glance at the driver again, to make sure she hadn't been deceiving herself.

She hadn't. Trev sat holding the lines of a team of placid job horses, staring out ahead of him. The Antlers' postboy stood in front of the team, holding their heads, a vastly innocent expression on his face.

Major Sturgeon took her arm and guided her up the stairs.

The most dangerous moment for Trev wasn't getting out of Dove House, or exchanging places with the Antlers' grinning driver, or climbing into Callie's unlocked window in broad daylight. It was offering a bribe to the gruff old charwoman who first discovered him in her bedchamber.

In the old days, the Shelford servants had not been susceptible to bribes. The butler kept his staff firmly in line but looked kindly enough on Trev that recourse to sweeteners hadn't been useful or necessary. It was a risk now to assume that things were different under the management of Lady Shelford. The moment he heard the doorknob turn, he laid a stack of gold sovereigns in the middle of the f loor where it would be instantly noted and stood to the side, trying to look as harmless as possible.

The charwoman saw the coins first. She froze, holding her broom and ash bucket. Trev cleared his throat and said in a soft, easy voice, "They're yours, if you're a friend to Lady Callista."

She startled and looked up. The instant in which she saw him rated well up in the category of the longest in his life, along with sitting in the dock waiting for the judge to read his fate.

No expression f litted across her face, no recogniz able thought process. She leaned on the broom. It trembled a little in her blue-veined hand.

"I mean her no harm," Trev said. "I love her."

She took a slow step into the room. With a bang of her bucket, she closed the door so that they were alone. "Sir's the Frenchie gentleman," she said, jutting her chin toward him. It was not quite a question. "Outta Dove House."

Trev nodded. "Aye, my mother is the duchesse."

The old woman lifted her broom, indicating the cano pied bed. "M'lady's been weepin' of a night, sir. Even though her got bespoke to marry that officer, eh?"

That was a shaft directly to his heart, but he had no reply for it. He looked down at his boots and up again.

"Well, sir," she said after a moment, in her rough, old voice. "I reckon I ought to call up the hall boy and say there's a housebreaker, eh?" She peered at the coins on the f loor. Then she bent over and gathered them up, dropping them into her apron pocket. "If I find m'lady's been weepin' in her pillow in the morning, I will, sir," she said and went about sweeping the ashes from the hearth.