He glanced at her with a frown and saw her eyes shining in mischievous antic.i.p.ation.

He paused at the open doorway of his sister's sitting room and blinked rapidly. "I t looks like a d.a.m.ned florist shop!"

"Isn't it sweet?" Margaret laughed, her fiery hair swaying softly with the movement.

William could not resist touching one of the swinging curls. His sweet, wonderful wife. Those who did not know her well thought her a rare redhead of even temperament. Only he knew how she saved the wild, pa.s.sionate side of her nature just for him. As desire tightened his loins, he sucked in a breath, and was a.s.saulted with the overpowering smell of flowers.

"Romantic?" he barked. Entering the room he dragged Margaret behind him. Riotous bouquets of expensive, richly scented floral arrangements covered every flat surface in the room. "Westfield," he growled. "I 'll kill him."

"Calm yourself, William," she soothed.

He surveyed the scene grimly. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since the Moreland ball." Margaret sighed, the soft sound making him scowl. "And Lord Westfield is so handsome."

"You are a hopeless romantic," he grumbled, choosing to ignore her last comment.

Stepping closer, she wrapped her arms around his lean waist. "I have a right to be."

"How so?"

"I have found true love, so I know it exists." She stood on tiptoe, brushing her lips across his. William immediately increased the pressure, kissing her until she was breathless.

"Westfield is a scoundrel, love," he warned. "I wish you would believe me."

"I believe you. He reminds me of you."

He pulled back with a grunt. "And you would want that for Elizabeth?"

Margaret laughed. "You are not so wicked as all that."

"Because you have reformed me." He nuzzled against her.

"Elizabeth is a stronger woman than I . She could easily bring Lord Westfield to heel, if she were of the mind to do so. Allow her to handle him."

William backed out of the room, pulling her with him. "I have duly noted your opinion."

She attempted to dig in her heels, but he lifted her easily and turned in the direction of their bedchamber.

"You don't intend to listen to me, do you?"

He grinned. "No, I don't. I will handle Westfield and you will cease talking about it." He kissed her soundly as they reached their room. I t was only by a twist of fate that he turned his head at that moment and saw Elizabeth reach the top of the stairs. He frowned, and lowered Margaret to her feet. She gave a soft murmur of protest.

"Give me a moment, sweet." He started off down the hall.

"You're meddling," she called after him.

Something was wrong with Elizabeth. That was obvious even from a distance. Flushed and mussed, she looked feverish. His stomach clenched as he neared her. The color of her cheeks deepened upon seeing him, and she looked for a moment just as their mother had before shedied, burning with fever. The brief flash of remembered pain quickened his steps.

"Are you unwell?" he asked, placing a hand to her forehead.

Her eyes widened, and then she shook her head quickly.

"You look ill."

"I 'm fine." Her voice was low and huskier than usual.

"I will send for the doctor."

"That's not necessary," she protested, her spine straightening.

William opened his mouth to speak.

"A nap, William. I t's all I need. I swear it." She sighed and placed her hand on his arm, her violet eyes softening. "You worry too much."

"I always will." He placed his hand over hers, and then turned to escort her to her room. Since their mother had pa.s.sed on and their father withdrew emotionally, Elizabeth had been all he'd had for most of his life. She'd been his only emotional connection during the time before Margaret when he'd been determined never to fall in love and risk the same misery as their father.

As they neared her room, his nose reminded him of the organic eruption that awaited them. "Why didn't you tell me Westfield was hara.s.sing you? I would have dealt with him."

"No!"

Her abrupt cry gave him pause, the fierce protectiveness he'd always felt for her rearing up in suspicion. "Tell me you are not encouraging him."

Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Haven't we had this discussion before?"

Closing his eyes, William released a deep breath and prayed for patience. "I f you a.s.sure me that you will come to me for a.s.sistance if you have a need, I will refrain from asking you questions you don't want to answer." He opened his eyes and looked down at her, frowning at the sight of the high color of her skin and glazed eyes. She didn't look well at all. And her hair was disheveled. The last time her hair had looked like that...

"Have you gone racing again?" he barked. "Did you take a groom with you? Good G.o.d, what if you were thrown-"

"William." Elizabeth laughed. "Go see to Margaret. I 'm tired. I f you insist on interrogating me, you can do so once I 've rested."

"I am not interrogating you. I just know you well. You are stubborn to a fault and refuse to listen to good sense."

"Says the man who worked for Lord Eldridge."

William released a frustrated breath, recognizing from her sudden rigid tone that she was finished talking. All well and good. He intended to manage Marcus on his own terms anyway. "Very well. Find me later." He bent and kissed her forehead. "I f you still look flushed when you wake, I 'm sending for the doctor."

"Yes, yes." Elizabeth shooed him away.

William went, but his concern would not be dismissed so easily, and they both knew it.

Elizabeth waited in the hallway just outside the office of Lord Nicholas Eldridge, pleased with herself for having snuck out of the house while William was occupied. Because she arrived unannounced, she antic.i.p.ated cooling her heels. To his credit, Eldridge did not keep her waiting long.

"Lady Hawthorne," he greeted her in what she imagined to be a customarily distracted manner. Rounding the desk, he gestured to her to have a seat. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Though the words were polite, the tone held an undercurrent of impatience. He resumed his seat and arched a brow.

She'd forgotten how austere he was, how serious. Yet despite the drabness of his attire and the gray of his wig, his presence was arresting.

He bore the weight of his power with consummate ease.

"I apologize, Lord Eldridge, for the importunate nature of my visit. I 've come to offer you a trade."

Gray eyes a.s.sessed her sharply. "A trade?"

"I would prefer to work with another agent."

He blinked. "And what are you offering in return?"

"Hawthorne's journal.""I see." He leaned back in his chair. "Has Lord Westfield done something in particular, Lady Hawthorne, which would cause you to seek his replacement?"

She could not prevent her blush. Lord Eldridge pounced on the telltale sign immediately. "Has he approached you in some manner that would not befit his duties? I would take such an accusation seriously."

Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably. She did not want Marcus reprimanded, simply removed from her life.

"Lady Hawthorne. This is a personal matter, is it not?"

She nodded.

"I had valid reasons for a.s.signing Lord Westfield to you."

"I 'm certain you did. However, I cannot continue to work with him, regardless of your motives. My brother is growing suspicious." That was not her only reason, but it would suffice.

"I see," he murmured. He remained silent for a long time, but she did not waver under his intimidating scrutiny. "Your husband was a valuable member of my team. Losing him and your brother has been difficult. Lord Westfield has done an excellent job of shouldering a great deal of responsibility despite the demands of his t.i.tle. He is truly the best man for this a.s.signment."

"I don't doubt his ability."

"Still, you are determined, are you not?" He sighed when she nodded. "I will consider your request."

Elizabeth nodded, understanding he had conceded as much as he was going to. Standing, she smiled grimly at his a.s.sessing gaze. He escorted her to the door, pausing a moment before turning the k.n.o.b.

"I t is not my place, Lady Hawthorne, but I feel I should point out to you that Lord Westfield is a good man. I am aware of your history, and I 'm certain the ramifications are uncomfortable. However, he is genuinely concerned for your safety. Whatever happens, please keep that in mind."

Elizabeth studied Lord Eldridge silently, and then nodded. There was something else, something he was not telling her. Not that she was surprised. In her experience, agents were always tight-lipped, sharing little of themselves with others. She was greatly relieved when he opened the door and allowed her to escape. While she held no ill will toward Eldridge, she nevertheless looked forward to the day when he and his d.a.m.ned agency were no longer a part of her life.

Marcus entered the offices of Lord Eldridge just before ten in the evening. The summons had arrived just as he prepared to depart for the Dunsmore musicale. While he was impatient to see Elizabeth, he had some thoughts to share about the investigation and this unexpected audience was highly opportune.

Marcus adjusted his tails and dropped into the nearest chair.

"Lady Hawthorne came to see me this afternoon."

"Did she?" Settled, Marcus took a pinch of snuff.

Eldridge continued to work without looking up, the papers before him lit by the candelabra on his desk and the shifting glow from the nearby fireplace. "She offered Viscount Hawthorne's journal in exchange for removing you from your duties."

The enameled snuff box snapped shut decisively.

With a sigh, Eldridge set aside his quill. "She was adamant about it, Westfield, even threatening to become uncooperative if I refused her."

"I 'm certain she was most persuasive." Shaking his head, he asked, "What do you intend to do?"

"I told her I would look into it, and so I have. The question is-what do you intend to do?"

"Leave her to me. I was on my way to her when I received your summons."

"I f I discover you are using your position with the agency to further your own personal agenda, I will deal with you harshly." Eldridge's expression was grim.

"I would expect nothing less," Marcus a.s.sured him.

"How is the journal coming along?"

"I 'm making headway, but the going is slow."

Eldridge nodded. "Soothe her concerns then. I f she comes to me again, I will have no choice but to honor her request. That would be lamentable since you are making progress. I would prefer you to continue."Marcus pursed his lips and said what was on his mind. "Avery related today's events to you, yes?"

"Of course. But you have something to add, I see."

"I 've thought of this situation ceaselessly. Something is amiss. The a.s.sailant was too aware of our preparations, as if he'd gained the knowledge beforehand. Certainly he would have expected her to contact the agency considering her husband's involvement and the relevance of the book, but the way he'd hidden himself, the escape route he had planned...d.a.m.n it, we were not incompetent! Yet he evaded four men with little effort. He knew how the men were arranged. And Hawthorne's journal. How did he learn of it?"

"You suspect internal perfidy?"

"How else?"

"I trust my men implicitly, Westfield. The agency couldn't exist otherwise."

"Consider the possibility. I t's all I ask."

Eldridge arched a gray brow. "Avery? The outriders? Who can you trust?"

"Avery bears an obvious fondness for Lady Hawthorne. So you, Avery, myself-that is the extent of my trust at this moment."

"Well, that certainly negates Lady Hawthorne's request, does it not?" Eldridge pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed wearily. "Let me reflect on who might have been told about Hawthorne's journal. Return tomorrow and we'll discuss this further."

Shaking his head in silent commiseration, Marcus departed, gazing about the empty outer offices before moving down the hall with its towering ceilings and dimly lit chandeliers. For a brief moment, he'd been furious with Elizabeth and then the feeling pa.s.sed. She would never have involved Eldridge unless she felt the need was dire. She'd been affected this afternoon, shaken enough to set aside her formidable pride.

A crack had appeared in her armor. He hoped it wouldn't be long before the sh.e.l.l was removed and he could once again see the vulnerable woman who hid inside.

"You look the fittest I 've seen you in years," Margaret said, her sweet smile revealing a charming dimple. "You are radiant this evening."

Elizabeth flushed and fluffed the pale blue silk of her overskirts. She looked ravished. There was no other way to describe it. "I t is you who is radiant. Every woman here pales in comparison. Pregnancy agrees with you."

Margaret's hand moved to cover the slight protrusion of her lightly corseted stomach. "I 'm pleased you are making the effort to socialize and be seen. Today's ride in the park did wonders for your complexion. William is concerned about those formidable looking outriders you hired, but I explained how difficult it must be for you, reemerging alone after the death of your spouse."

Elizabeth bit her bottom lip. "Yes," she agreed softly. "I t has been difficult."