He stared for a long moment. "I remain amazed by your loyalty, Amelia, for I have done nothing to deserve it. Why? Why are you so moved to help me?"

She could not tell him that she loved him. "We have a connection," she said softly.

"Yes, we do. We had it ten years ago, and apparently time has not eroded it." But he did not smile.

And Amelia felt as uncertain as she had once been, when she had been a girl of sixteen. "I am not sure the pa.s.sage of time will ever affect it."

"I am a selfish b.a.s.t.a.r.d, aren't I? I feel as if I am using you. And I certainly know better." He suddenly pulled her into his arms and held her, hard.

It was an outburst of affection, Amelia realized as she embraced him in return. But she did not understand why he didn't offer her marriage. Surely he cared for her. He had said he needed her. His children needed a mother. And he was a widower-so what was holding him back?

She realized she was afraid that he simply didn't want to marry her. Worse, it was now obvious that she wanted even more than an affair from him. As he had pointed out, she was hardly meant to be a mistress.

"I had better go," he suddenly said softly. "It will be five soon, and the staff will begin to arise."

"I am the only one up before six," she said, suddenly bewildered and even hurt. But consuming love remained. She knew it would never fade-not for her.

He kissed her cheek and stood. "We can speak later. Amelia... If you decide you have regrets, you must be brave and tell me."

Amelia somehow smiled, hugging the covers to her chest, and watched him leave. Then she leaned back against the pillows. She was so deeply in love, but the confusion remained. She was suddenly afraid that she would not be very adept in the role of mistress. She was suddenly afraid of being hurt by Simon all over again.

But she did not want to lose him. Wasn't this better than nothing?

Besides, he was in danger-and apparently the children were in danger, too. She would not back out of their friendship, and she did not want to end their love affair, either. In fact, she missed him already!

And she suddenly threw the covers aside. She knew she would never fall back asleep. She would begin her day early.

AMELIA WONDERED IF SHE would be able to stop thinking about the night she had just shared with Simon as she went downstairs, a half an hour later. Aware that no one would be up yet-except for Simon-she glanced at the library as she entered the central hall. The door remained open and she smiled, recalling how they had escaped that room last night, having barely reconstructed their clothing, and pretending that naught was amiss. They had sauntered from the room slowly, then made a mad dash for the stairs. Choking on laughter, they had rushed up to her room.

The library was empty-apparently Simon was still upstairs-and impulsively, she went inside to tidy up the sofa where they had first made love.

As she rearranged the pillows, joy overcoming her previous doubts, there was a flash of movement outside. Amelia glanced up at the window. The sun had risen, and the morning was bright with its first light. Roses were blooming. And then she realized that a man was standing outside of the window!

Amelia froze in fear-and then she ran to Simon's desk, seizing the drawer where he kept the gun. She pulled it open, took the pistol and turned. As she raised it, the man pressed his face to the window.

She choked in shock.

Amelia, he mouthed.

It was Jack, her long-lost brother!

Jack, who had a bounty on his head.

Amelia pointed toward the west wing of the house, and ran from the library. She pushed open the doors to the first salon-the opulent red-and-gold room-and then closed them. She realized she was still holding Simon's pistol as she raced across the salon and opened the terrace doors. Jack rushed inside, grinning at her.

Before she could reprimand him, he reached for her. He plucked the pistol from her hand and swept her into a hard embrace and whirled her around until she was breathless.

"The gun is loaded," she choked, afraid it would go off.

He laughed with disdain and set her down, putting the gun on a small table. "Since when do you carry weapons?"

She stared at her brother, who looked like the smuggler he was-or a pirate. His face was bronzed from the wind and the sea, he wore a plain brown coat over a lawn shirt that was open to the chest, his golden hair was loose, and he wore Hessian boots with his breeches, not shoes and stockings. He also wore a waist belt with a pouch and holster, in which she could clearly see a carbine pistol. "Since when do you?" she cried.

"Aren't you pleased to see me?" He grinned. And before she could respond, one tawny brow lifted. "Hmm, you do not look like a housekeeper, or, come to think of it, like my sensible older sister."

Amelia felt herself blush. She was dressed in a lovely pale pink silk gown, in a rose print, which was hardly suitable for a housekeeper. She had pinned up half of her hair. The rest she had brushed and was hanging loose. Worse, she happened to know that she looked particularly radiant today. Simon, of course, was responsible for that.

Jack was an unrepentant ladies' man and she was afraid he would suspect what she had been up to last night. "I am thrilled to see you and you know it," she said. "Lucas told me about the bounty, Jack."

He did not seem perturbed. "Do not lecture me now. Why are you all dressed up at five in the morning?"

"Julianne sent me the clothes. Frankly, I have been working myself to the bone, taking care of Grenville's poor children. I became tired of seeing my reflection in the mirror and looking like a fishmonger's wife."

"And how are Grenville's children, Amelia? Come to think of it, how is Grenville?"

She tensed. "Lucas and I have already had this out. He has come to terms with my taking on the position as Grenville's housekeeper. His children have lost their mother, Jack. And the infant, Lucille, why, she isn't even his child, so she currently has no one."

"She has you."

"Yes, she does."

He sighed. "I got into town last night. Lucas has told me everything-including that you are very involved in Grenville's household. Amelia, I have not forgotten that he broke your heart, even if it was many years ago. I remember hearing you crying in your bedchamber. I remember wanting to hunt him down and kill him! I was shocked when Lucas told me that you were his housekeeper. And now, well, I can't help remarking that you have never looked better-or lovelier."

She felt her cheeks heat. "It is the dress!"

He stared searchingly.

She folded her arms defensively. She had pulled the wool over Lucas's eyes, but Jack would be harder to fool. "Have you seen Jaquelyn yet?" she asked, referring to Julianne's daughter.

"You are changing the subject. Where is Grenville, anyway? As much as I shouldn't let him see me, I want to have a word with him."

She was alarmed. Jack had a temper. He had meant it when he had just stated that, a decade ago, he had wanted to kill Simon. He would not be calm and rational in this regard as Lucas had been, she was certain. "He is probably asleep. I do not think it wise for me to wake him up."

His eyes widened. "My G.o.d, were you even considering doing such a thing? Of course you can't barge in on him-or can you? What is going on here, anyway?"

He was suspicious of her relationship, she realized, with some panic. "You are wrong. I was not even thinking of going upstairs to awaken him. It would be entirely inappropriate, obviously."

"That dress is inappropriate. So is your position as his housekeeper."

"I told Lucas and I will tell you. I cannot abandon his children now. They are becoming very accustomed to having me run their home. I see to their meals, review their studies and tell them bedtime stories!"

"Really?" He made a mocking sound. "I am going to remain here until Grenville comes downstairs. I wish a word with him."

"Jack, you cannot afford to have him see you." Amelia was horrified. Jack meant to interview Simon and decide if their relationship was appropriate or not-she was certain.

"Grenville hardly frightens me, Amelia," he said, with vast arrogance. "I have been eluding two navies ever since the blockade was declared. I think I can elude Grenville and his cronies, if he ever decided to turn me in!"

"You are lucky, Jack, but I am afraid you don't know it."

He eyed her. "Don't be afraid for me."

She went to him and touched his arm. "Of course I am afraid for you." She lowered her voice. "How many times have you been off the French coast, unloading embargoed goods, with the British navy on the horizon? How many times, Jack?"

He stared at her, a funny expression on his face. "I don't want you to worry about me. I have the oddest feeling you are preoccupied enough now."

"My G.o.d, I was right! You drop anchor to unload, with British sloops almost in striking distance!"

"How amusing would it be if they weren't on the hunt?"

She felt like striking him, hard. "This is not a frivolous game, d.a.m.n it. If you are ever apprehended, they will charge you with treason, Jack. I am worried to death about you being caught by our navy, just as I am worried to death about Lucas being caught on French soil, by the French authorities!"

Jack suddenly pulled her close. "And I love you, too." He released her. "Frankly, I worry about Lucas, as well. He should stop aiding the emigres, Amelia. Terror truly reigns in France. There is no concept of mercy now, or of justice. Anyone even a.s.sociated with a suspected traitor is sent to the guillotine, and that means women and children are dying senselessly, every single day. If Lucas is caught on French soil, there will not be a trial. His fate will be the mob or the Blade."

She was sickened. "I was not certain he was still working with emigres in France."

"He is." Jack was blunt. "I have even heard the rumor that your friend Nadine D'Archand is involved in aiding the emigre community there. I hope that is not the case. If she wishes to help her compatriots, she can help them here, once they have safely landed on our sh.o.r.es. Lucas should do the same."

She was surprised. "Nadine is very political, but she has never given any indication that she is doing anything at all to help emigres flee France. You must be wrong."

"I hope so," he said.

Amelia stared at him for a moment. "Maybe you can help me, Jack. I am worried about Grenville."

He started. "So I am right. There is more here than meets the eye. You are hardly his housekeeper, if you are so worried about him!"

"We are friends!" she cried. "He is in danger and the children might be in danger, too-he has admitted as much. But he won't admit to anything else. I think he might be a spy!"

Jack took her arm and pulled her close. "Lucas told me that you were suspicious of him." His stare was piercing. "What do you mean, he admitted he is in danger?"

"He referred to keeping the children safe. But when I directly asked him if he is a spy, or some such thing, he hedged, and changed the subject."

Something flickered in Jack's eyes. "You should stay out of this, Amelia. I do not want you involved in the war, not even on its periphery."

"I am already involved, because of you and Lucas, and now Simon," she said tersely.

"So it is Simon! I knew it-you are glowing because you are in love with him all over again," he accused.

She pulled away. "Yes, I love him, Jack. Just as I love his children. He is in trouble. Can you help me find out why?"

His face was hard and tight. "If I didn't know how prim and proper you are-how sensible-I would ask if you are having an affair!"

She flushed. "What a rude comment to make!"

He rushed on, as if he hadn't heard her, "But I know you, Amelia, and you would never become a man's mistress. Thank G.o.d for that! Why has Lucas allowed you to stay on here? Why don't you go with Momma and stay with Julianne? If Simon is in danger, then so are you."

"I am not abandoning him and his children," she cried. "So you also think that he is in danger?"

He said carefully, "I don't know." He stared grimly, and she could feel his mind racing. She wished she knew his thoughts. "Has he indicated that he is leaving town?" he finally asked.

She shook her head. "No, he has not said a word about leaving town. Why? If he leaves, does that mean he is going to France-as Lucas does?"

"No, it does not. It could mean anything."

"He is rarely in town-that is what I have heard!" She worried that Simon meant to soon leave-yet he hadn't said a word. "Did Lucas tell you all the reasons why I am so worried?"

"He mentioned something about odd behavior, nightmares, some ramblings," Jack said.

She stiffened. Lucas and Jack had had a lengthy conversation about Simon-she was certain.

Jack grimaced. "d.a.m.n it. I did not plan on staying in town for another day. But I am going to see what I can find out. You have made me curious. I cannot imagine why Grenville would feel that there is danger here in town-whether his activities are related to the war or not."

"Thank you, Jack," she said. And she hugged him, hard.

IT WAS VERY DIFFICULT to concentrate on the task at hand, Simon thought grimly.

It was not even ten that morning. Simon was at his desk in the library, ostensibly dealing with some estate accounts. But in truth, he was trying to decide how to deal with Marcel. Jourdan had just received another summons-the drop-off location for messages was a small shop on Pall Mall. Either he had to come up with a foolproof disguise or he was going to have to send someone in his stead to meet Jourdan's contact. Both options were far too risky. Just then, he preferred the latter choice of sending intelligence to Marcel through a courier he could trust.

But as he brooded upon how best to proceed-and time was not on his side-he had been hard-pressed to keep his attention on the subject of his intrigues. Amelia was haunting him.

There was no small amount of guilt. She was a good, upright, moral gentlewoman, and he had taken advantage of her affection for him and the attraction they shared. It was simply unacceptable. But he could not regret the night they had shared. She had said that it had been the best night of her life; it had certainly been the best night of his.

There was also so much pleasure, so much joy. She had done more than warm his bed, she warmed his heart, even now. She was everything he was not. She was good and kind, honest and warm, compa.s.sionate and selfless. He knew he was not going to be able to give her up, not as a friend and not as a lover.

And that just highlighted their differences; he was entirely selfish.

Of course, sooner or later he was going to be sent back to France, and that would end the affair. He couldn't imagine what excuse he would give to her then. But he would never frighten her with the truth.

For he recalled the way she had looked at him, time and again. Was Amelia in love with him? He thought so-he hoped so!

He shoved the ledgers he was supposedly reviewing aside. Amelia was astute and tenacious. She suspected that he was a spy. How was he going to convince her otherwise? He did not want her burdened with the truth. He did not want her living in fear for him.

He would be the one to live in fear-for them all.

A knock sounded on his door, which was open. Lloyd stood there-and so did Sebastian Warlock.

Absolute displeasure began. Simon stood up stiffly as Lloyd said, "Mr. Warlock insisted, my lord. I apologize for the interruption, but he said you would not turn him away, not even at this hour."

A new tension riddled him now. Simon smiled coldly. "Thank you, Lloyd. Please close the door. And we are not to be disturbed."

Warlock sauntered inside as Lloyd backed out, closing the ebony door. "h.e.l.lo, Grenville. Am I interrupting?"

"I dislike surprises," Simon said. "But of course, you are always welcome." And they both knew that was a lie.

Warlock seemed amused. Clad in a black-velvet coat and tan breeches, he took a chair before the desk. "You haven't sent me a report. How did your meeting with Jourdan's contact go?"