"Have you ever met Henri Jourdan?" he asked, unsmiling.

She did not have a clue as to who he was talking about. But she sensed she must be very careful about how she answered him. "I have been gracious enough to overlook your falling-out with my sister. But you have come into my house in a very provocative manner. I have no interest in continuing this intercourse. Good day, Tom."

"Jourdan has called on St. Just, surely?"

"Good day." Amelia strode to the door and flung it open, shaken but hiding it. "Lloyd! Please escort Mr. Treyton out." She faced Tom. "Please, do not make me bar you from this house."

Tom smirked. "And why would you do that?" He saluted then, sauntering past her. "I think I can let myself out."

Amelia stared after him as Lloyd appeared, following Treyton to the door. Only when the door had closed behind Treyton did she grasp her hands and sink into the closest chair.

What had that encounter been about?

Who was Henri Jourdan?

But she had to trust her instincts now. Tom was the enemy, and somehow he was hunting Simon.

IT WAS VERY LATE, and Simon had yet to return.

In his library, Amelia paced. That afternoon, he had sent a note, stating that he would not be back in time for supper, and that he might not be back to say good-night to the boys, either. There had been no explanation, and the boys had been put to bed hours ago.

She had made up her mind to spy upon him, if that was what it took to discover the truth about his activities. But she was loath to begin searching through his private effects. It felt like a violation of her morals, as well as a violation of his privacy. Still, in the past hour, she had gone through all the drawers in his desk. She hadn't found anything alarming-except for the fact that the pistol was gone.

He had left the house before noon. Why did he think it necessary to go out in broad daylight with a loaded gun?

When he returned, Amelia meant to confront him until she got to the truth.

But her fear and worry were exhausting her. She suddenly sat down at his desk, slumping over the leather top there.

"So you are waiting up for me, again?"

She flinched, leaping to her feet. Simon stood in the doorway in his navy blue coat, smiling slightly at her.

She trembled. "Yes, I am waiting up for you."

His gaze moved over her figure. The trunk she had seen in the front hall had been for her. It was filled with clothing her sister had purchased for her. She had decided earlier that she might as well surrender to her sister's will and see what she had actually bought for her, as she was tired of looking like a washerwoman or a domestic housemaid. Amelia had changed into a rose brocade dress with a heart-shaped neckline and three-quarter sleeves. He looked up. "This is a pleasant surprise, Amelia.... I like the gown."

There was no mistaking the admiring look in his eyes. But surely she hadn't put on one of the gowns Julianne had sent on his behalf? "Julianne left me a small wardrobe." She felt herself blushing. "I was tired of looking like a washerwoman."

His smile was broader now, his tone softer. "You could never look like a washerwoman. You are lovely," he said.

She was gripping the edge of his desk. "Thank you," she said unevenly. "Are you attempting to divert me?"

"Do you need diversion?" He finally moved into the room, leaving the door open. "I can't imagine why you are here, much less why you are at my desk, but somehow I do not think I am forgiven for my wanton behavior the other night."

She wet her lips. "There was no wanton behavior." He started and she said, "We both know you did not go out last night to be with a lover."

"I am not going to argue with you. But if you wish to believe in me, you are making a mistake." But he had halted a few feet from the desk, and he appeared distinctly wary.

"You must be in terrible danger, to tell such a lie."

"Has something happened today that I don't know about?" He spoke calmly. "Last night, you certainly believed my confession-and it was the truth, by the way."

She decided not to go through the logic which had led her to her conclusions. "I was threatened today-here in this house."

Simon's eyes widened. "What!"

"I was threatened by a radical, Simon, and he was clearly interested in you."

Simon's mouth closed but he blanched. And he came forward with hard strides. Amelia did not move; he rounded the desk and seized her wrist. "What happened?"

"Do you remember Tom Treyton?"

"The name is somewhat familiar-"

She interrupted. "His father is a country squire. He is a solicitor with a practice in Penzance. He was also a friend of Julianne's, and of my family's. I know firsthand from Julianne that he has been here in London, trying to subvert the war effort. Last summer he was arrested, and Julianne feared he would be charged with treason. She persuaded Bedford to work on his behalf and he was released. He called on me this afternoon. But it was you he wished to speak about."

"What did he want to know?"

"He asked me if I knew someone named Henri Jourdan," she said.

Simon blanched.

"I am becoming frightened," Amelia cried. "Simon, who is Jourdan? What are you really doing here in town? What were you doing last night?"

He inhaled harshly. "What did you say, Amelia? What did you tell him?"

"I did not even answer him, I sent him from the house!"

Their gazes locked and she saw fear in Simon's eyes. "If you are ever asked again, Jourdan is my cousin. He resides here from time to time, but is currently out of town!" He turned away from her and paced.

She ran after him and seized his arm. He faced her. "If I must lie for you, I will gladly do so, but don't I have the right to know what is going on?"

"I would tell you everything if I could," he cried raggedly. He grasped her shoulders. "I should have never brought you to London!"

"I want to be here! I love William and John-I love Lucille-they need me!" She felt the tears filling her eyes. She almost blurted, I love you-and you need me, too! "Are we in danger, Simon?"

His grip tightened. "I am determined to keep you safe. I am determined to keep the children safe. I am doing my best...." He trailed off.

Amelia did not know what to do. He was obviously overcome with anguish. "I am good at keeping secrets." She clasped his cheek, which was slightly rough.

His gaze locked with hers. "You do not need to be burdened with my secrets, Amelia, and you may trust me on that."

She could not understand why he wouldn't tell her what he was dealing with. "Are you involved in the war? Perhaps the way Lucas is, perhaps the way Bedford was?"

He began shaking his head. "From now on, Garrett will escort you everywhere you go, even into my own gardens!"

"Who is Jourdan?" she tried again.

"He is my cousin, from France," he said firmly, but he hesitated before answering.

She was surprised. "You have French relations?"

He wet his lip. "Most are dead."

She studied him desperately. "Will we be receiving him?"

"Amelia, do not press me! d.a.m.n it! I cannot answer any questions. But know this. I am going to keep you safe," he said huskily.

His eyes were shimmering with tears. He added, "I am going to keep the children safe-even Lucille, for as long as she is with us."

Her heart swelled with love. "I know." She clasped his jaw again.

And he took her hand and turned it over and kissed it with shocking pa.s.sion. And then he kissed it again, and again. "What would I do without you? What would I do without your faith? How can you trust me?" He paused and stared into her eyes. "I did lie, Amelia. There was no one else last night. How could there be anyone else-when it is you that I want, you whom I admire?"

Relief consumed her-and desire flamed. "I know. Simon... I will always trust you. It is as natural to me as breathing."

He cried out. And then he swept her hard into his arms, and she turned her face up for his kiss. It was fierce and hungry, it was consuming. As wildly, Amelia kissed him back.

It was Simon who broke away, after an endless, heated moment. "I am not going to be able to restrain myself," he said harshly, "not now, not tonight."

"And I will not let you," Amelia cried. "I am too frightened-and I care for you too much."

He went still, breathing hard. For one moment, Amelia was afraid that she had said the wrong thing. But then he pulled her into his arms, kissing her and whirling her around toward the sofa as he did so. Without breaking the kiss, he shoved the library door closed. Amelia clung as he laid her down on the sofa.

He paused beside her, one knee on the sofa. "You deserve more than I can give you."

"I want whatever you can give me." Amelia took his hand and slid it over her bare collarbone.

His eyes blazed. "Amelia, I have already hurt you, and if there will be regrets-"

"There will not be regrets." And as she spoke, she opened his shirt, exposing his hard chest and muscular belly.

Her dress already unb.u.t.toned, he froze, their gazes locked. Amelia laid her palm on his ribs, and gave up. She closed her eyes, tears of need arising, moaning as she slid her hand across his abdomen and down his pelvis. His skin was like velvet, except it was burning hot.

He claimed her lips feverishly as she delved even lower, and when she touched him, feeling his hard, hot length, the urgency became unbearable. She cried out, soblike.

Simon gasped and jerked down her bodice, his mouth on her neck, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Frantically Amelia ripped off his jacket, then helped him tear down his breeches. Her skirts were somehow up about her waist and Simon smiled at her, his eyes burning and black. She wanted to tell him to hurry. She wanted to tell him that she loved him. Instead, staring into his eyes, very faint now, she reached down between them and guided him toward her. He gasped and then he was abruptly filling her....

Amelia threw her arms around him and wept.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

AMELIA THOUGHT SHE FELT Simon brush his mouth over her temple. She was surely dreaming, wasn't she? Confusion began as she slowly awoke. And suddenly she realized that she was in his arms-and that they were in bed. The mattress shifted as he got up.

She was instantly awake. Last night they had made love, over and over again.

A delirious joy began. Amelia blinked, because they were in her bedroom, and it was still dark outside. Simon was gathering up his clothes and dressing.

She remembered making love on the sofa in the library, their pa.s.sion finally exploding. It had been breathtaking and miraculous, at once. Nothing in her life had ever felt as right.

They had stolen upstairs afterward, into her bedroom. They had made love again-and again. Each time had been fierce, frantic and thrilling.

She gripped the covers, consumed with the depth of her love. She had never loved anyone this way before, she thought helplessly. She knew she had never stopped loving Simon-nor would she ever do so. Yet with the profound joy there was despair.

He was in trouble. Her suspicions had been right, apparently, but he hadn't admitted anything! The only thing she knew with any certainty was that he was afraid, and that he felt it necessary to keep her and the children safe. But what or who were they in danger from?

"Simon?" she whispered as his clothing rustled.

He sat down on the side of the bed, touching her face, his shirt half b.u.t.toned. "I did not want to awaken you. Good morning." He smiled.

Her heart turned over, hard. His smile was so tender, so caring-and she recalled his intense and heated looks last night. "It's all right. Are you trying to sneak away?" she asked, with some uncertainty, but trying to sound casual. Surely he did not mean to steal away from her, not after the extent of his pa.s.sion last night!

His eyes widened. "Yes, I am intent on stealing from your chamber-but not because I want to leave you. I am trying to protect you. I don't want anyone to know that we have spent the night together. I do not want your reputation blemished."

She couldn't believe that she had had some doubt. But uncertainty remained. "I thought you might have wanted to escape me."

"Why would I want to flee from you?" And he seemed genuinely bewildered.

"Because you are ashamed, because you feel guilty, because you have regrets... " she said.

For one moment, he stared. Then he said softly, "Are you ashamed? Do you have regrets?"

"I know we had decided not to allow this to happen, but I cannot regret the night we just shared. It was the best night of my life."

His eyes darkened. "Do you really mean it?"

"I mean it!" she cried.

He leaned closer and slid his hand into her hair, around her nape. "What happened last night means more to me than you can possibly know." His tone was rough with emotion. "I just wish-" He stopped.

The love in her chest swelled. She touched his face. "What do you wish? Do you have regrets?" He hadn't answered her and she was acutely aware of it.

"Yes, I do." Their gazes held. "You deserve more than this. We both know you are not meant to be a mistress. You deserve a home and family of your own, not a clandestine affair. I hired you as my housekeeper, but now you are in my bed!" Before she could protest, he said, "You deserve all the splendor life has to offer. Instead, I have immersed you in the most sordid aspects of my life, Amelia. I swore to myself I would never do such a thing, yet that is exactly what I have accomplished."

She did not quite understand him. And she was dismayed. "So you are sorry about what happened?"

"I am not sorry that we made love," he said. He hesitated. "But I regret ruining you, Amelia, for that is what I have done."

He had taken her virginity, and he didn't seem about to offer marriage. She wasn't sure what to think, feel or say. And it wasn't quite true, but she said, "I am twenty-six. I haven't thought about marriage in years. I do not care that we are lovers, and not man and wife. I care about you, Simon, obviously. Therefore I want to be involved in your life, both when times are good and when times are difficult."