Not that the duke needed anyone’s help to command an antechamber. He had the attention of the entire assembly. Even the small glasses of syllabub trembled as he strode past the table.

Upon recognizing his ducal personage, the guests who had gathered in the room parted to allow his progress. A few called his name in the hope of being acknowledged. Several of them stared enviously at Harriet for having captured his attention. She would have stared back, except she was more intent on keeping her eye on Miss Edlyn in the corner. The girl seemed to be watching a matronly woman in a green muslin gown escape into one of the private corridors, which Weed and the other footmen would be guarding had they not been chasing the duke around the room.

The duke sighed. “All is well. Neither of us shall be scolded by my aunt. By the way, she goes into a panic at least once a week. It’s nothing you should take personally.”

Harriet frowned as Miss Edlyn rose suddenly from her chair, ducking away from the guests who clamored to coax a look from her. The girl had apparently never bothered to put her Boscastle charms to the test. Her young uncle had probably been exercising his since the day he was born.

“You may let go of my hand now, your grace,” she said, when it became clear he would not do so by himself.

He turned, a thin smile playing on his lips. “But I have a reputation to uphold.”

She shook her head at him in reproach. “Mine will not be helped if I’m reported to be remiss in my duties or to be so smitten by-”

Oh. Hung by her tongue again.

“By?” he inquired, widening his heavily lashed eyes as if he didn’t have a clue.

“I shall be tarnished,” she explained in an undertone. “You will shine like a black diamond.”

He paused briefly as Edlyn walked past him without a word. “It isn’t fair, is it?”

Harriet sighed. “Not at all. But there’s nothing to be done for it.” She lowered her voice. “Please, your grace. People are staring. We must separate before they draw certain undesirable conclusions.”

He glanced around in resentment. “What are they waiting for, anyway?”

She bit her lip, her gaze following Edlyn’s progress back into the ballroom. “An introduction to you.”

“All of them?”

She smiled. “So it appears.”

“Where does that side passage lead to?” he asked her suddenly.

She laughed, pulling her hand from his possessive grasp. “If you want to get in trouble, I shall not be the one held responsible.”

“I saved you from the inferno, remember?”

“I remember,” Harriet said, as if that were an experience she would ever forget. She backed away before he could stop her. “Now, if it’s all the same to you, I believe I have to save myself.”

Chapter Eight

Edlyn was sitting at the window again when Harriet entered the room with a bedtime offering of hot chocolate and warm currant buns. She set down her tray on the circular rosewood table. The girl had at least traded her dreary gray dress for an embroidered white nightrail, but somehow the change only made her seem thinner and more ethereal.

“I love hot chocolate on a rainy night,” Harriet said cheerfully, if only as an antidote against the somber atmosphere in the room. “Which, living in London, means I drink it all the time.”

Edlyn sat in utter silence.

“And Cook makes the most scrumptious currant buns you’ve ever tasted. I ate five in a row when I first came to the academy. I almost blew up like a balloon. It’s embarrassing to think of it.”

Nothing. She might have been talking to the bedpost. Charlotte had urged her to persist. “You aren’t unwell, are you?” she asked. “Perhaps we should-” She broke off. Harriet had never possessed much patience. “What are you looking for from that window? Whatever it is can’t be more enticing than Cook’s buns.”

“You talk too much,” Edlyn said unexpectedly.

“That wouldn’t be because I have to talk for two, would it?”

She waited. Then, more curious than offended, she went to the other end of the window and peered down into the street. It was empty. Edlyn turned her head and subjected her to a wrathful scowl. Having received and given worse in her tender years, Harriet disregarded this affront. She thought she heard the echo of hoofbeats from the corner. She might even have perceived the rear end of a hackney coach. But there was nothing unusual about that. It was almost as if the girl could see ghosts. Harriet shivered pleasantly at the thought.

“Have some hot chocolate,” she insisted, returning to the table. “This room is colder than I can ever remember. Perhaps we’re going to have another storm.”

Edlyn finally deigned to speak. “It stormed the entire way from home to London.”

“Did it? Mind you don’t burn yourself. The drink is piping hot.” She carefully handed her the bone-china cup.

Edlyn took a reluctant swallow. “This is good,” she said grudgingly. “Bitter and dark, the way it’s supposed to be. And it always storms when one of us is in a mood. My great-aunts think Uncle Griffin attracts thunder and lightning.”

“Nonsense,” Harriet said, her scalp prickling. “Nobody has that sort of power, except in stories. What you probably mean to say is that he-I don’t know-that he stirs up his surroundings.”

“Does he stir you?”

Harriet blinked. “A woman in my position does not allow herself to be stirred.”

“Would you admit it if you were?”

Harriet gave a reluctant laugh.

“I saw you holding his hand tonight.”

She cut one of the buns neatly in half. “I was not holding his hand. We were on a hunt. Your aunt was frantic because she couldn’t see you, and if I appeared to be upset, or stirred, that would be why. Now, then. I’ll leave you in peace. I have to go and settle down the other girls. Some of them have never attended a ball before, and they’ll be up half the night talking.”

She waited again. At least she had tried. “I sleep down the hall if you need me during the night.”

“Why should I?”

“Ring if you want anything,” she said in resignation.

She turned. Harriet could hardly escape the room fast enough. Then, just as she reached the door, Edlyn’s voice stopped her. “What do you do when you’re alone?”

Harriet knew she should not give an honest answer. But she did. “I read.”

“An etiquette manual?” Edlyn asked in disdain.

Harriet turned slowly. “No. Not when I’m alone. I have a favorite book-”

Edlyn turned her head. “I’m tired. Go away.”

Harriet paused. “Fine. I hope you have pleasant dreams.”

When she left the room a moment later, she realized that she knew nothing about Edlyn but that she had revealed three things about herself. One was that she loved hot chocolate on a rainy night. The second, that she had once eaten five currant buns in a row. Third, that she read when she was alone. And if she had not admitted it in so many words, it was obvious that she had allowed herself to be stirred by Edlyn’s horribly handsome guardian.

She almost screamed when she encountered the horribly handsome duke in the middle of the stairs. At first she thought it was only a tall shadow that darkened her path. Then the shadow moved up toward her. A pair of strong arms reached out to firmly entrap her. The duke’s eyes gleamed with dark amusement. She pursed her lips, doing her best to look disapproving. He wore a black cloak over his long-tailed evening jacket. The satin-lined wool bore a pleasant scent of damp that wafted to her as he shifted his weight evenly on the step beneath.

“If I’d had a tray in my hands,” she said in a precise voice that she hoped would put him in his place, “I would have dropped it and disturbed the entire academy. Shame on you, your grace. You shouldn’t be sneaking up here like this.”