Jasmine nodded furiously. "Oh, he did, he did. But I simply couldn't eat by then, having told myself I deserved to be miserable. Papa would have been infuriated if he could have seen me. He says to be careful to always make a good impression on Tanner. I sent away the tray without taking so much as a bite."

"A nose and one ear," Lydia muttered, shaking her head. "But what does that have to do with that bruise on your cheek?"

At last Jasmine lowered her hand, and Lydia got a good look at her cheek. The skin wasn't broken in any way. Her cheek was red, swollen. And there was something else. Evidence of a slight abrasion along the right side of her chin.

Very like the one Lydia had needed to cover with rice powder before going down to supper.

A day earlier, and Lydia wouldn't have known what she was seeing. But a day earlier had been a lifetime ago in experience. Now, she knew, and her first thought went to schoolmaster Bruce Beattie. Was he here? Had he ridden from Malvern because she'd somehow sent a message to him, and he couldn't bear to wait until tomorrow to see her? Had Jasmine slipped out of the inn to see him? But, no, she couldn't ask those questions. She'd have to explain too much in order to ask those questions.

Jasmine crossed to the small dressing table set in front of the single window and sat down, inspecting her reflection in the fly-spotted mirror.

"Oh, dear, I really did it, didn't I? You don't suppose I broke anything, do you?" She touched two fingers to her cheek, wincing, before wiping away her tears with the hem of her dressing gown.

"I can't be the judge of that if you don't tell me what happened."

Jasmine turned her back on the mirror, her bottom lip trembling. "It does hurt, Lydia. That's why I was crying. I'm so sorry I disturbed you. Inn walls are so thin, aren't they? Do you know gentlemen often sleep six or more to a room in places like this? I can't imagine how anyone could-"

"Jasmine," Lydia interrupted without a trace of regret, "you can prattle on all you like, but I will continue to ask my question, and sooner or later you will answer me. Me, or Tanner. It's your choice."

"Why? Is it important in some way that everyone know how foolish I was? I didn't know you could be so cruel."

"Neither did I, but I seem to be discovering that there are limits to my patience. You are fast approaching one of those limits."

Jasmine sighed, her slim shoulders rising and falling half in petulance, half in resignation. "Oh, very well, since you're going to be that way. It's all so stupid. Mildred offered to sleep in here with me, and I should have agreed, but I didn't. So I didn't know where she was in this place, and I was so hungry. So...so I went searching for her."

"Like that? In your dressing gown?" That Jasmine possessed a healthy appet.i.te did not come as any shock. There was, after all, that business with the sugared buns in the not so distant past. But she'd actually go traipsing about the inn in the dead of night to feed it? That was unsettling.

"The servant stairs are just outside my door, across the hallway. It wasn't as if anyone would see me, Lydia. I'm not such a dunce. The stairs lead up to the attics and straight down to the kitchens."

Lydia rubbed at the back of her neck as she perched herself on the side of the bed, suddenly feeling very much older than Tanner's cousin. "And which way did you go?"

"Well, up, of course," Jasmine said, her tone implying that this was a question silly in the extreme. "I know nothing of kitchens. How could I? So I held my candle high and tiptoed carefully up the stairs, calling out Mildred's name. But she never answered me, and I belatedly considered the possibility that the male servants of the inn patrons might be sleeping in the attics, as well. Tanner's man, and the baron's, and possibly even more. That gave me pause, I must admit to you, so I turned on the landing to make good my escape. But I forgot to be careful. I tripped on the hem of my gown-Mildred will hear about that, I tell you, as I've warned her that this hem is too long-and very nearly came to grief before I could catch myself. But not before I'd landed very heavily against the wall, and hit my cheek. I don't think it's broken. It can't be broken, can it?"

"How badly does it hurt?"

"Not so much anymore," Jasmine admitted. "But I was very frightened for those few moments I believed I might plunge to my death. I'll have nightmares for months and months of tumbling down dark stairs."

Lydia remained unmoved by the girl's tears, but offered, "I sincerely hope not. And what about your chin?"

"My chin?" Jasmine tentatively touched the center of her chin.

"No, not there. On the right side of your face. Far away from the bruise on your cheek where you collided with the wall, I would think. Did you perhaps bounce?"

When Jasmine turned on the low bench, to inspect her chin in the mirror, Lydia bent down and picked up one of the girl's slippers, abandoned on the carpet. She turned it over, touched its soft kid sole, and felt dampness. Quickly, she dropped the slipper beside its mate, her only conclusion the obvious one.

Jasmine had been outside.

She was leaning close to the mirror now, touching one finger to her chin. "Is this what you were referring to, Lydia? My goodness, I can't imagine what happened. Unless it is these terribly rough sheets. When I was crying, you understand, and trying to hide my sobs by s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g my face into the pillow. I have such tender skin, you understand. Ah, to be like the baron, and be able to afford to travel with my own linens. But that is neither here nor there, is it?"

She pushed back the bench and stood up, turning to smile at Lydia. "I'm feeling much better now, although very stupid for having wakened you. Please, go back to bed. I promise to be quiet now. Unless the hungry growling of my empty stomach can be heard through walls?"

Lydia got to her feet, barely able to look at the girl. She wanted to be on the other side of that door, as far from Jasmine as possible. But with her hand on the latch, she gave in to temptation. "Yes, you never got as far as the kitchens, did you? A pity there are none of Tanner's cook's sugared buns left anywhere. Well, good night, for whatever is left of it."

Jasmine's gaze slid quickly toward her reticule before she straightened her shoulders and looked at Lydia once more.

Had the fairly vacant eyes now narrowed with...what? Cunning? A pretty girl, her face didn't wear that particular expression very well. "Yes," she said, and then sighed. "Lydia, may I ask you something?"

Lydia wanted her bed, and to be away from Jasmine, perhaps the latter more than the former. "Can it wait until tomorrow?"

Jasmine sniffled, bottom lip trembling. "I suppose it must."

"Oh, all right. What do you want to ask me?"

The trembling lip reformed into half of a pleased smile. "People often say things and don't mean them, don't they?"

Lydia tilted her head, wondering where on earth that question had come from. "Yes, I suppose they do."

"Then if someone says they'll do something if someone else says they won't do something-then they probably won't really do it?"

Lydia considered this. "I...I imagine that would depend on the person doing the saying. Are you talking about someone issuing an ultimatum?"

Now Jasmine frowned. "An ultimatum?"

Really, the girl was exhausting. "Yes. That would be like saying that if you don't stop asking questions and let me go to bed, I shall box your ears, and you then saying you'll ask more questions anyway."

"So you'd be angry if I asked more questions?"

Lydia resisted the impulse to roll her eyes, which she really shouldn't do, because everyone else could see her disgust when she did that. Not, she supposed, that Jasmine would notice. "Yes, I'd be angry if you asked more questions. As, I feel the need to point out, you just did."

"But you won't really box my ears."

"No, I suppose not. Jasmine, what do you want to know? Really."

"Oh, nothing," the girl said, smiling brightly once more. "You answered my question. People say things, insist on things, but then don't do what they said they'd do if you refuse to do what they want you to do. Especially if you do."

Lydia was beginning to think she wasn't awake at all, but trapped in some bizarre nightmare. "Especially if you do what?"

"Do what they said you had to do so that they don't do anything else, of course. Then they won't do it-what they'd said they'd do, I mean. I feel much better now. Thank you."

"I suppose you're welcome. Goodnight, Jasmine," Lydia said. Closing the door to her own chamber, she leaned against it, happy to be away from Jasmine's ridiculous ramblings.

But she couldn't forget that Jasmine had lied to her, and that she'd been outside. She had to wonder at what she had discovered. And, if her conclusions were correct, what did it all mean?

Worse, how could she possibly tell Tanner? After all, this was his cousin. And, if she provided him with Mr. Beattie's name, she'd also have to admit that she'd been, for lack of a more comforting word, snooping. Before Tanner had come to her, loved her. When it could still be believed that he would eventually honor his father's last wish and wed Jasmine.

Then she remembered what she had decided earlier last evening. Justin. She would tell Justin, and he would tell Tanner. At least then her embarra.s.sment would be from a distance.

A slight knock on the door had her nearly crying out, and when the door began to open, she jumped back out of the way, fearful that Jasmine had come to confront her about the letter in her reticule.

But it was Sarah, rubbing one eye as she yawned open-mouthed, then blinked at the sight of her mistress. "My lady," she said, dropping into a curtsy, her aging knees creaking. "I thought I could just sneak in and build up the fire before you had to put your feet on a cold floor."

Lydia was suddenly very aware of her bare feet beneath the hem of her dressing gown. "Why, thank you, Sarah, that's very considerate of you. But as you can see, I'm already awake. We're to make an early start of it, are we?"

Sarah was already kneeling in front of the fire, adding two small split logs to the grate. "Yes, my lady. We should be at His Grace's before noon, if we set off within the hour, or so says his man, Hawkins, when he roused me from my cot. It's still dark, I told him, but he said that's the rain, and we don't want too much of it laying on the roadway between here and the better roads up ahead. Mr. Wigglesworth is already in the kitchens, causing an unholy ruckus. I'm about terrified to go asking for a cup of hot chocolate for you."

"You've seen Mr. Wigglesworth, Sarah?" Lydia asked, curious about this man who ran about making Justin's life comfortable and everyone else's a horror.

"Only the once, and that was enough." Sarah got to her feet with an ummph to help her up, and headed for the rumpled bed. "I shared my room with Mildred, my lady. Miss Harburton's maid? Now there's a woman could talk the b.u.t.tons right off a coat. I'd never be one like her, talking about you the way Mildred does her mistress."

Lydia forgot about Wigglesworth. "Really, Sarah? What sort of things does she say? I mean, not that I should be asking you, or you should be telling me."

Sarah shot her a smile and a wink as she began plumping up the pillows. "Oh, this and that. About how Miss Harburton never gives her any of her castoff finery, or any of her candle stubs neither. Real tight-fisted she is, and her papa along with her. And the same with whatever comes out of the kitchens. Never once a have a bun, Mildred, or even a you can have the rest of this lovely cheese for yourself, Mildred. That sort of thing? Not that there's much of anything left when Miss Harburton gets through, Mildred says. Mildred was hoping for a bit of a taste of Mr. Wigglesworth's fine joint of beef last night, but Miss Harburton didn't leave so much as a crumb for a mouse on that tray His Grace sent up to her. I told Mildred, I told her you always give me a taste of anything that's sure to never make it to the servant's hall. It's just polite, I told her, and what real ladies do."

Lydia didn't hear the compliment as she was already mentally going over her conversation with Jasmine. She hadn't eaten a thing off that tray Tanner had sent up, she'd said. The fib supported her reason for supposedly going in search of Mildred, but she had delivered that particular part of the lie so quickly, so easily, so glibly, that Lydia hadn't questioned it.

That ease bespoke a quick mind for mischief and extensive experience in the art of lying, the practice of deception. Why, she'd make Nicole seem a raw amateur.

I can never believe another word the girl says, Lydia decided silently. Not another single word.

"Oh, dear," Sarah said, her hand holding up the coverlet, clearly in the act of making the bed look less rumpled-Sarah believed a person left a room as she found it or else her carelessness would reflect badly on her mistress. "I didn't know it was coming on to your time, my lady. Weren't we just done with that? I could have-"

The maid's mouth snapped shut and her fair face turned nearly beet red. She quickly began stripping the sheets from the bed. "Never you mind, my lady. Probably just a little something left over, and riding up on Daisy stirred it up a mite. I'll just take these downstairs and give them a wash myself, if you don't mind waiting a bit on that chocolate? Save the maids here a bit of work. And I'll order up a nice tub for you, as well. Lots of hot water to soothe you where you're a little sore, love...riding on Daisy, that is."

Lydia waited until Sarah had bustled out of the room, the betraying sheets bundled under her arm, before sinking against the edge of the bed, overwhelmed with embarra.s.sment.

And then she laid back on the mattress, trying not to giggle, thinking how lucky she was that she didn't treat Sarah as Jasmine did Mildred, or the whole inn would know within five minutes that Lady Lydia Daughty had waved farewell to her virginity last night at the Crown and Sugarloaf...

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

TANNER WAS LINGERING at the bottom of the stairs, hoping he appeared no more than a man at loose ends, yet fairly certain he more resembled a lovelorn youth waiting for a glimpse of his beloved.

Leaving Lydia had been the most difficult thing he'd ever done. Warm with sleep, her soft, even breathing invaded his soul.

They hadn't spoken. With their pa.s.sion spent, it had been enough for him to draw her close, kiss her hair, feel her cheek against his chest, glorying in the knowledge that he hadn't hurt her more than necessary. She'd found his hand beneath the covers and brought it to her lips, kissing his fingertips before sliding her fingers through his and holding his hand that way as she fell asleep.

He'd never felt so powerful, never known himself to be so vulnerable. She trusted him. If anything ever happened to her, his life would be over. Love was wonderful, but also terrifying. And he wouldn't trade how he felt for all of the riches of the Orient...

"Nothing else to do save prop up that wall?" Justin said, popping the last of a sweet roll into his mouth, clearly having just quit the private dining room. "If I'd known we had all this time to be leisurely, I wouldn't have chanced insulting Wigglesworth by all but bolting down my breakfast. The man suffers from a delicate disposition, you understand."

"My apologies to Wiggleworth's disposition. We're merely waiting on the ladies," Tanner told him, mentally shaking himself free of his thoughts. His mind had to be sharp around Justin; only a fool would think otherwise. "They've breakfasted in their chambers and should be down shortly. Last night's rain has probably made a mess of the road. If we'd ever see the blasted sun, we could wait for the mud to dry, but there's little hope of that. Now, is that explanation enough, or must I go grovel at Wigglesworth's feet for you?"

"He'll survive. Ah, and here comes your lovely cousin. Whoops, and there she goes again. She must have forgotten something. Well, in any event, when she returns, I shall escort her to the coach. Or would you rather I waited for Lydia? No, no," he said, holding up one manicured hand, "I believe I know the answer to that one."

"I don't believe I like your smile," Tanner said warily.

"Really? And here I thought you enjoyed my company. Why, I even came to your chamber last evening, on about midnight, to share some thoughts I'd had-brilliant, all of them-on how we might go on after I've inspected the remainder of the Malvern collection. But you must have been fast asleep, because you didn't answer my knock. Imagine that, a soldier who has learned how to sleep soundly in an unfamiliar place. You must tell me how you've managed that."

"You don't sleep well, Justin?"

"In unfamiliar places? Truthfully, no. And there have been too many of them over the years. Perhaps I will go home once our small investigation at Malvern is complete. I doubt there will be any reason for me to linger."

"You know you're welcome to stay as long as you wish. I didn't invite you just to have you look at the d.a.m.n jewelry. To tell you the truth, I haven't thought about those stones since we spoke yesterday."

"And one can only wonder why," Justin drawled, his smile all-knowing.

"Never mind that. Please, I want you to stay with us at Malvern. You're my friend."

"Yes, I know. That friendship is one of the great gifts of my life. I wish to preserve it."

"Now what the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l does that-"

Tanner sensed Lydia's presence at the top of the steep stairs even before he turned to see her slowly descending them, carefully lifting the hem of her riding habit as she held tightly to the railing. Her eyes were on the steps, but as she neared the bottom she raised them, looking directly into his.

The expression in those beautiful sky blue eyes came like a punch to his ribs, for he saw nervousness, shyness...and joy.

"Lydia," he said quietly as he approached the stairs, his hand held out for her to take it. She slipped her fingers onto his palm and he closed his over hers before raising their joined hands. His gaze never leaving hers, he kissed the smooth skin on the back of her hand.

How long they stood there, Lydia slightly above him on the stairs, speaking volumes to each other without uttering a single word, Tanner didn't know. Because nothing else mattered; nothing and n.o.body.

"Tanner? Yoo-hoo, Tanner. I can't get past you and Lydia if you're going to persist on standing here like this. Is there something wrong? Did she trip, hurt her ankle or something? I vow these staircases are so steep, it's no wonder we haven't all come to grief on them-oh, not that anyone has, of course."

He would have missed it if he hadn't been looking at her so intently, but Tanner saw the quick roll of Lydia's eyes as Jasmine pushed past them.

"Oh, good morning, Justin," Jasmine went on, once she'd paused to take in her surroundings. "Goodness, and here we all are, all muddled together in this small hallway. Have you all been waiting for me?"

"All of our lives," the baron drawled, bowing in her direction before holding out his bent arm to her. "It would be my esteemed pleasure to escort you through the raindrops to the coach, whilst your cousin takes care of Lydia. Friend? You will take care of her for me, won't you?"

The two men faced each other across years of friendship.

"Always," Tanner said quietly.

Justin inclined his head slightly, and then smiled that enigmatic smile of his. "Yes, I believe you will. Jasmine, shall we two be off? Wigglesworth awaits without, armed with an umbrella."

Tanner watched them go.

"Is the baron all right?" Lydia asked as Tanner helped her lift the hood of her cloak up and over her hair.

"Yes, he's fine," he a.s.sured her. "I think Justin's taking a new look at his life, possibly at life in general. There's more to both, I believe, than he's ever before taken the time to see, or even believed existed. I only hope he finds some of it for himself."

"I don't understand," Lydia said, slipping her hand into his. The gesture was so simple, yet so symbolic of their new easiness with each other, their intense awareness of each other.