"If I can think of another safe place, we will move you there," he said, jumping right to the end of the argument. "For tonight, there is none."

"Diane will take me in."

"With her and St. John's brood, and the size of their household, your presence would not remain a secret even one day. I think that St. John would insist that your brothers know, too."

She fingered the edge of her veil. "I can hardly wear this all the time here, either. You, too, have a household."

"Mrs. Tuttle, the housekeeper, will see to your needs. Only she and Batkin will know you are here. There are chambers in this house that are not used, not open for care by the servants. Batkin is preparing one now. You will secretly stay in it until I discover what the earl is doing, and why."

She was torn between embarrassment and a gratitude so deep that she wanted to weep. The latter flooded her, making her realize how tired she was of being afraid, and how good it felt to be here with a friend.

"You will stay here and all will be well." He held out his hand. "Now, please sit and have some tea while we wait for Batkin to finish. Tell me all about Naples."

She did not tell him all about Naples. She described the beauty of the bay and hills, and the outings to Capri and Ischia. She spoke of the people who surrounded the king's court and of the opera and balls. She told him a lot, but not everything.

He could tell what she avoided. For example, no man was mentioned more than once. There were no indications that she had favored someone. He only knew that she had because of the careful way she did not indicate it.

Well, she had not told him about Witherby, either. He had learned about that just by watching her moods and manner. He had seen his good friend's addresses bear fruit. He had guessed the very week that they had become lovers.

That affair had been another disappointment for her, maybe worse than the earl. She had been old enough to really fall in love with Witherby. The betrayal, when she learned of it, had been devastating.

"So, you can see why I would have liked to stay," she said by way of conclusion. "The weather, the scenery, and the society were all most congenial."

He had never met another mature woman whose normal expression was so soft and open. She had always been incapable of dissembling or displaying hauteur. Her kind heart would not allow the distance and chill that such strategies demand.

Her face was soft in form, too. A little round, but with high cheekbones that kept it from being too much so. Those bones drew attention to her sparkling blue eyes. Even now they glinted with little stars glowing beneath the night of her hair.

"If you contemplated going to America, it must have wounded you to know that you were leaving Naples for good."

"It was hard to leave, but I always knew I would."

"You never thought to make your life there?"

She gave a little shrug. "I never considered it one way or the other. Eventually I expected to return here, probably before winter came. There are some projects that I began before I left England that are demanding attention."

He really shouldn't press, but he wanted to know. "There was no friend whom you mourned leaving?"

She tried to assume a worldly, bored expression, but could not successfully hide a deeper sadness. "I will never mourn a man again, Mr. Hampton."

Batkin appeared at the door just long enough to cast him a meaningful look.

"The chamber is ready, Countess." Julian offered his hand for her to rise. "I will show you where it is, if you will permit it."

"I confess that I would prefer that you did. It would embarrass me to have your valet escort me, since I am sure that he disapproves."

"He knows you are a lady in distress, as will Mrs. Tuttle. There will be no disapproval. However, we will avoid the embarrassment completely this way."

The wide skirt of her ice-blue twill dress brushed his legs as he escorted her. With its low waist, snug bodice, and full sleeves, it flattered her form. An ecru fichu obscured the upper swells of her breasts from his eyes but not from his mind.

Her lovely blue eyes took everything in as they walked to the staircase. "It is a large house, Mr. Hampton. It surprised everyone when you moved here."

"I found Russell Square convenient to the City, and the Inns of Court."

They began up the stairs. The lamps showed wisps of her dark hair escaping her coiffeur to brush against her snowy cheek. Her face displayed fatigue from her worry and the voyage, but her expression was sweet all the same.

"With a house this size, I think you should marry and start a family," she said.

"Lady Laclere agrees with you, I fear."

She giggled. It was a wonderful sound, one he had loved hearing since he was a boy. Suddenly, despite her worries, she was the Penelope he knew. "Has Bianca been trying to find you a wife?" "Once your brother Dante married, I suspect I was doomed. She must have concluded that if he could be induced to wed, any man could." "Is she waging battle alone? No supporting troops?" "I think the strategy was devised with the Duchess of Everdon and Mrs. St. John. Dante's wife, I suspect, demurred only because she is with child." "Oh, dear. Sophia and Diane are after you, too. You may indeed be doomed. Having been part of that army, I know how effective we can be. Be glad that I am not staying in England. If I joined up you would not stand a' chance." "My dear lady, your involvement could only benefit me. In fact, should I ever think to marry, your approval of the match will be essential." She paused on the stairs. "Truly? You value my opinion that highly?" "Certainly." "What a very nice thing to say, Julian." Julian. She had not addressed him like that in years. He doubted she realized that she had now. He remembered the precise day when he had become Mr. Hampton. It was the afternoon when she called on him in chambers to seek advice about the earl. As he heard her sordid tale and watched her embarrassment, he had known that he would never be Julian again. The revelations of that day demanded a certain formality in their subsequent relationship.

He led her to the door of a bedroom on the third level. His own chambers were on the other side of the landing. It went without saying that she could not stay in the best of the closed rooms, the one connected to his, the one that would never be used by a mistress of this house.

He stood aside so she could enter. He stayed on the threshold as she surveyed the room.

"Yellow and green and white," she said with admiration. "It is like being in a garden of jonquils."

Decorating this chamber, and all of the others, had been mercifully easy. When faced with any decision

he had simply chosen what he thought Penelope would like.

She strolled around, inspecting the restrained carving of the fruitwood furniture and other appointments.

She noticed a garment on the bed. "Your valet must have woken the housekeeper if he found a nightdress for me. I have become a nuisance already." "You will be no nuisance. They will be happy to serve you. I have sent Batkin for your belongings at the hotel. He will make sure that no one knows where they are going."

Her clear blue eyes appeared a little moist and her brow a little worried. He wanted to soothe her in ways denied him. Instead he just stood at the doorway.

"Thank you for doing this," she said. "It is rashly generous of you."

He was not being generous, but selfish. If she lived here even one night, her presence would remain forever.

He would always sense her in the air and feel her in the spaces.

The part about being rash was true, however. Allowing her to remain here was an unspeakably risky thing to do, for both of them.

"It would be quite scandalous if anyone learned of this," she said, echoing his thoughts.

"Not too scandalous. No worse, for example, than that business in Naples with you and those other ladies and that fishing boat."

A blush rose up her neck and over her face. She grimaced with chagrin. "Oh. You heard about that."

"Although the officers on the ship that rescued you showed the discretion of gentlemen, several of the common sailors, upon their return to England, did not."

"Does everyone know?"

"If I do, I expect so."

"I want you to know that was quite innocent. We were victims of villainy. Whoever expected that fishing boat to go off with all our garments on it and leave us stranded in that cove like that?"

By "like that" she meant wearing only their chemises, or so the story went. Wet chemises, since the women had commissioned that fishing boat to take them to the secluded cove so they could bathe in the sea.

Pen walked out of the cool sea. Droplets on her body and eyelashes sparkled in the sun like tiny diamonds. The soaked garment adhered to her soft curves like a transparent veil, and "If you are honest, Mr. Hampton, you will admit that the outing to that cove can at worst be described as a bit reckless, a little headstrong, a tad ill-advised" She groped for more diminutives.

"Slightly naughty?"

"Still, not scandalous, as this will be."

"This will be scandalous only if others find out. We will be sure they do not."

She blushed again and made a little awkward gesture with her hands, as if at a loss how to end the meeting.

He memorized the image of her standing in his home.

"Good night, madame."

"Good night, Mr. Hampton."

"Julian! Sir Julian, save me!"

The cry came from the tower. Julian looked up to see pale skin at the arrow slit, high on the guards'

chamber.

"1 am up here, Sir Julian. Help me!"

Julian grasped his wooden sword tighter. "I am coming, my lady!"

Above on the battlements of Laclere Park's medieval ruins, Vergil whacked his own sword against

Dante's as they fought for control of the castle.

The plan had been for Julian to join Vergil, overpower Dante, and together rescue the damsel

imprisoned by her evil guardian, Sir Milton. But Vergil could defeat Dante alone, and the lady was calling to Julian for help. Julian charged across the bailey yard, jumping stones that had fallen from the decaying fortress. He dodged past little Charlotte, who had been permitted to join them but only if she played Vergil's squire. She stood safely in the bailey holding an invisible horse, shouting treasonous encouragement to Dante up above.

Inside the portal of the guard tower, Julian pressed against the wall and listened.

Above, Lady Penelope called again, her girlish voice gaining maturity in the stones' acoustics. Another sound caught his attention as well. Bootsteps on the stairs. The evil guardian was coming down. The boots stopped. Preparing himself, hoisting his plank shield, Julian started up the curving stone staircase.

Milton waited halfway down, his own sword and shield at the ready. Julian considered how to attack from his disadvantaged position. "That is the thing about these curved stairs," Milton said with a smug smile. "The invader cannot use his sword arm unless he exposes his body by turning." "1 will risk the blows." Milton's dark eyes turned serious. The eldest of the Viscount Laclere's sons, he was also the most handsome, even more so than young Dante. He and Julian had a special affinity, since they were both quiet and more given to observing than participating in the raucous conversations of the others. Milton had made it clear that while Julian visited Laclere Park as Vergil's friend, Milton considered him a kindred soul.

"You should always weigh whether any prize is worth the blows, Julian."

"I do not seek my own prize, but my lady's freedom," Julian said, assuming the bluster of a medieval knight.

Despite the advantage of the stairs, Milton could not defend well. He had never been especially interested in the actual battles of their games, but rather the strategies.

Whacking his way past Milton, Julian rushed up to the guards' chamber. Playing her role with enthusiasm, Penelope ran to his protection.

Her gratitude was interrupted. Milton appeared at the threshold. Julian thrust Penelope behind him and prepared to fight again.

She cowered closely, her body tucked against his back and her hands on his shoulders. Their contact stunned him and incited a pleasurable warmth. Time froze for a moment while he accommodated the powerful sensation.

He glanced back at Penelope. She had frozen, too. She looked in his eyes with a curious, startled expression.

He forgot about Milton and the sword and the tower itself. He turned slightly, unable to stop looking at her, incapable of breaking the silent, astonishing conversation they were having and for which neither of them knew any words.

Finally, Pen stepped away. She glanced past him. He looked in the same direction to find Milton watching them. Milton's own expression was both unfathomable and comprehending.

"The tower is yours, Julian. The lady is rescued. Well done." Milton looked down at his sword. With a small smile, he let it drop to the floor along with his shield. "I think that I am much too old to play such games anymore."

The memory came to Julian as he lay in his bed, sensing the presence of Penelope as surely as if she slept beside him.

A year before that day neither of them would have noticed that touch. It would have been one of many, as the stories that Julian created played out on the estate.

That moment changed everything. At fourteen he had been aroused before, but not like that, not by a specific female whom he knew and honored.

It had been a turning point in other friendships, too. Milton had never played with them again. It had taken Julian many years to realize that his long look with Penelope was the reason.

Now Milton was dead and Penelope was married and here he was, lying in bed, wanting another man's wife who slept in a nearby chamber.

He weighed the events of the night. Pen had been correct that the law would not protect her. Only the combination of her courage and Julian's own guile had ever done that.

He did not know what waited around the curve in the staircase he had begun climbing. As always, his position in the whole matter would inhibit his sword arm as surely as that wall had in the old tower.

He knew only one thing for certain.

Glasbury would never hurt Penelope again while Julian Hampton lived and breathed.

Chapter Three.

Anthony, tenth earl of Glasbury, tried to ignore the sound at his dressing room door. He did not like his pleasure disrupted by any distraction, least of all one that heralded complications to his well-calculated plans.