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Fanny?” Nigel whined.
    “Make nothing of it,” Fanny cajoled. “Now please, Nigel, say good night.”
    Rafe nodded affably. “Yes, please do say good night.”
    Nigel donned his hat, directing a warning glare at Rafe. “Contact me at once, should there be any trouble.”
    “Pishposh, Nigel, I expect no difficulties.” Her scoff was gentle, though she firmly turned him toward his waiting carriage.
    Rafe sidled closer. “Do you find that sneery, petulant look of his attractive?”
    Fanny nodded to the last of her guests and exhaled a breath. “If you must know, I do not.”
    He followed her back inside to a set of mullioned doors that opened onto a formal garden. The silver cast to the sky had deepened into evening. Fanny stood with her nose to the squares of glass. A new flush ofrose blooms was on dazzling display in the twilight. Rafe reached around her and pressed the latch of the door. Almost at once a myriad of spicy lemony scents drifted inside the house.
    Rafe inhaled deeply. “Intoxicating, is it not?” He glimpsed a pretty upturn of lips before she caught herself and turned to him. “Am I to have a room made up for you?”
    “I won’t require a room—perhaps just a place to wash up. I would like to have a look at your bedchamber.” He cleared his throat. “We are fairly certain the London victim was abducted in the middle of the night.”
    A bit dazed, Fanny turned up the stairs and stopped. “And where, might I ask, will you be sleeping?”

Chapter Four
    “W ake up, sir.” A tentative prod to his shoulder nudged an eye open. His gaze traced the intricate designs of a Persian carpet and a curved leg of a gleaming side table, then settled on a lone Chinese vase.
    Rafe sat up straight and blinked. He was in the Greyville-Nugent town house. Balancing a breakfast tray on her hip, the young maid viewed him curiously. “Miss Francine will be needing her chocolate, sir.”
    Stiff from sleep, Rafe ordered his body out of the chair blocking the entrance to Fanny’s bedchamber. “Let me carry that.”
    “Oh no, sir—” Rafe whisked the tray out of the maid’s hands as she protested, “Please, sir.” The girl trailed behind him into the bedchamber. He set the tray beside a pale yellow striped chaise and pulled back the drapes. From the amount of light streaming into the room, he wagered it was late morning.
    Straightaway, he inspected every corner and headed for the carved four-poster in the center of the room.Rafe had fought to stay awake last night and obviously lost. It appeared Fanny, as well, had slept in. Had she tossed and turned until sleep gave her welcome rest from her troubled memories? Rafe supplanted a guilty twinge with something chipper. “Good morning, Fanny.”
    A shapely lump shifted under the bedcovers. “Get out of my room.” Muffled words grumbled from under the sheets. “I mean it, Rafe.”
    Disinclined to back off, he stayed to see more. “Just making sure—it is Miss Greyville-Nugent I’m speaking with?”
    “Rafe.” A flutter of bed linens erupted into the air and fell to one side. Fanny propped herself up on her elbows. “Get out!” A head of tousled brown curls framed rosy cheeks, fresh from sleep. Rafe grinned. Every bit as lovely as he remembered, and angry to boot. He’d quite forgotten how stimulating she could be. These past five years, he had neatly tucked her into a corner of his mind and marked the pretty box out of reach.
    Those drowsy brown eyes of hers narrowed as he backed away. “We have quite a day ahead of us, Fan. A full debriefing, a field investigation or two—”
    He dodged a pillow as he checked his pocket watch. “Good God, nearly noon. It appears we’ve slept the morning away. We’ll reconnoiter downstairs within the half hour.”
    The little maid ushered him out the door. “I’ll do what I can, sir.”
    The carriage was waiting by the time Fanny arrived in the dining room. Pocketing a hard-boiled egg, a slice ofham, and a buttered