"Did they see the jewels?"

Ben gave an emphatic shake of his head. "No, I went to distract them while Goldie locked the safe. It was still locked when I went to bed that evening."

Chance was not nearly so confident. He intended to keep a close guard on Ben's supposed friends.

"And you told no one you possessed the jewels?" Chance pressed.

A rather uncomfortable expression fluttered across Ben's youthful countenance.

"I might have mentioned them to Fiona."

"Your mistress?" Chance allowed his expression to thin.

"She did not take them, if that is what you are thinking," Ben retorted in defensive tones. "I won't have a word said against her."

Chance had many words that he might have said, but he contented himself with adding Fiona's name to the growing list of suspects. "What of Goldie? Could he have told anyone?"

Ben stiffened at the accusation. "Good Lord, no. Right as they come."

"Someone took the jewels," Chance pointed out in dry tones.

"Certainly. Some scandalous thief who broke in while I slept."

"A thief who was well aware those jewels were in your possession."

It took a long moment for comprehension to dawn in Ben's eyes. "Oh."

Chance gave a humorless smile. "Yes."

Clearly disturbed by the realization, Ben gave a sharp shake of his head.

"Fah. Must be bloody daft to think one of my friends was involved."

"But one was," Chance stated in tones that defied argument.

"You only say that because you have always disliked my companions," Ben charged.

"I do not dislike your companions," Chance denied, his expression grim. "But I do think they are fribbles with few morals, and I do not doubt for a moment they would stoop to any level if they were desperate enough."

A mulish expression descended upon Ben's face, but before he could voice his arguments, the portly butler entered the room.

"Pardon me, sir, but Lord Chance's groom requested I remind him he has an appointment at half past the hour."

Chance smoothly rose to his feet. He had to presume Lucky had completed his search and somehow alerted Miss Cresswell.

"Thank you," he said toward the butler. Then, as the servant discreetly retreated, he turned back toward his flushed brother. "I wish you to write down a list of everyone who might even have suspected you possessed the Chance diamonds and have it sent to me." He regarded his brother in his most forbidding manner. "And, Ben, do not allow foolish loyalty to blind you. I want every name."

The flush deepened, but Ben was all too aware he was in a precarious position. For the moment, he could only do as Chance commanded him. "Very well."

With a last warning glance, Chance left the room and made his way down to the front door. Retrieving his coat and hat from the butler, he stepped into the chill November wind. For a moment he paused as the breeze threatened to tumble his beaver hat from his head. Then, before he could continue his path down the stairs, he was halted by the sight of a maid hurrying from around the house toward his waiting carriage. With a faint sense of surprise, he watched her furtive movements, wondering what she could be about as she halted beside Miss Cresswell, who was holding open the carriage door as a proper groom. It was not until he noted the budding infatuation on the maid's pretty face that he realized the truth.

The maid had clearly been smitten by his supposed groom.

"A moment, Samuel," the maid pleaded, her voice inviting. "I have brought you a cake."

A dark flush stained Miss Cresswell's features as she awkwardly shook of her head. "Oh, no. I could not."

"But I insist," the maid pleaded.

"Really, I would rather not."

"Please take it ... for me."

Clearly trapped, Miss Cresswell reluctantly accepted the small cake. "Thank you."

"Perhaps we shall meet again," the maid persisted. "I have half days on the last Wednesday of the month."

"Oh, I don't think . . ."

"We could go for a walk, or perhaps have tea."

"I ... well . . ."

Finding an inordinate amount of humor in the situation, Chance swept down the stairs and climbed into the carriage.

Settling himself on the velvet squabs, Chance peered down his long nose with a smug superiority. "If you have finished seducing the local maids, Samuel, I would appreciate being on our way. I do not care to sit in this frigid air all morning.

Her blue eyes flashed as the carriage door was snapped shut. Then, as Miss Cresswell climbed next to his rightful groom, Chance tilted back his head to laugh with a great deal of enjoyment.

Four.

Sarah gritted her teeth as the carriage briskly set off from the town house. She felt a fool.

Who the blazes would have suspected that her brief charade would cause such an awkward situation? For goodness sakes, the maid must be daft to even glance in her direction. And then to have Lord Chance fully aware of her predicament . . . Really, it could not be more provoking.

Then, as swiftly as her annoyance had arisen, it was tempered by her ready sense of the ridiculous.

In all fairness, it was a humorous situation. Indeed, had the events been reversed, she would certainly have found his discomfort vastly amusing. Not that anyone could ever possibly mistake his shockingly masculine form as that of a woman, even if he were clothed in hoops, she wryly acknowledged.

Still, she wished the maid had not followed her to the carriage. It had been embarrassing enough to endure her blatant flirtations in the kitchen without having Lord Chance as an audience.

Her exasperated thoughts were thankfully interrupted as a small lad stepped into the street.

"Please halt," she commanded the genuine groom, hastily scrambling down from her perch. With swift movements, she pulled open the carriage door and both she and Lucky tucked themselves inside. Just as swiftly, the carriage was once again on its way. Settled upon the seat, she was reluctantly forced to glance across the carriage to where Lord Chance sat very much at his leisure. Not surprisingly, his dark eyes still harbored a devilish glint. With her usual straightforward manner, Sarah folded her hands in her lap and met his gaze squarely. "I am happy that I could provide you with so much amusement, my lord."

"You did indeed," he readily admitted. "I do not believe I have ever seen a maiden so swiftly smitten."

"Cor, yes." Lucky was anxious to join in the jest, a wide smile splitting his thin face. "You should have seen the goose batting her lashes and plying the Miss with scones and such. It were a proper sight to behold."

Sarah struggled to banish the blush that threatened to rise. "Yes, it was all very amusing."

Pressing his hands to his chest Lucky fluttered his lashes in an outrageous fashion. "Oh, Samuel, you must have some tea," he squeaked in a high tone. "And I made these scones myself."

Lord Chance tilted back his head to laugh with rich enjoyment. "I am quite in awe of your fatal attractions, my dear. You harbor a potent weapon to the members of the fairer sex."

Sarah's own expression was sour. "It was all a great deal of nonsense. The maid is clearly of a romantic disposition and anxious to attract the interest of any gentleman within sight."

His dark gaze lingered on her unconsciously pink cheeks. "Do you not believe in love at first sight . . . Samuel?"

"Miss Cresswell says only lobbies believe in love," Lucky obligingly chimed in.

The earl's dark gaze never swayed. "How very cynical. I thought all maidens were desperate to tumble into love."

Sarah unwittingly squared her shoulders. "You are mistaken, my lord. I am quite satisfied with my life as it is."

"Perhaps that is because you have yet to meet a gentleman worthy of your heart," Lord Chance softly drawled.

Sarah's breath caught as Lucky gave a sage nod of his head. "That's the right of it, sir," he quipped. "Only the very best gent would be proper for Miss Cresswell. She's a rare 'un."

Lord Chance gave a slow nod of his head. "A rare one, indeed."

Nearly lost in the compelling beauty of his eyes, Sarah gave a sharp shake of her head. What was the matter with her? Lord Chance was merely roasting her. He would begin to think she was as fanciful as that maid if she did not collect her wits.

"Enough of this foolishness," she forced herself to mutter. "Did you find anything, Lucky?"

Thankfully diverted, the boy gave an expressive grimace. "Nothing of interest. The butler has a stash of the best brandy, the housekeeper is hiding the silver beneath her bed, and a footman has a horde of chocolate."

"Good gads," Lord Chance uttered in obvious surprise.

Far more accustomed to life below stairs, Sarah merely shrugged. "But no jewels?"

"No, and nothing out of the ordinary to prove anyone has come into a fortune."

Sarah nibbled her lower lip as she considered the information. She did not doubt Lucky had been extremely thorough in his search. If the jewels or any overt symbols of wealth had been in the house, Lucky would have discovered them.

"We must consider what is to be done next," she announced, refusing to acknowledge the tiny flutter in her stomach was anything but annoyance at the knowledge Lord Chance was destined to be in her life for at least the next few days.

With his casual elegance Lord Chance leaned back into his seat. "I propose we look to Maxwell. He is the most likely suspect."

Sarah gave a rather wry smile. "I fear I have not precisely devised the means of investigating Lord Maxwell."

"Lucky should be able to swiftly discover if he has the jewels or not," Lord Chance pointed out, clearly forgetting his earlier distaste at allowing a young boy to take such a risk.

In truth, the notion had crossed Sarah's mind as well, but she had reluctantly dismissed such an easy solution.

"Lord Maxwell is far too clever to keep the jewels in his town house, especially if he realizes that suspicion is bound to fall upon him," she said. "If he did take them, he would be sure to place them somewhere that could not be connected with himself."

"Unless he has already sold them," Lord Chance retorted in grim tones.

"I have already started inquiries among those who would be approached in such matters. If someone in London has thus far attempted to sell such famous diamonds, we shall soon know."

His lean features regained their sardonic amusement at her crisp tone. "Once again you are a step ahead of me, Miss Cresswell." His head tilted to one side. "What do you propose we do now?"

Sarah hesitated a moment before she allowed herself to concede the next logical course of action. "I believe we should call upon your mother," she reluctantly admitted.

Expecting him to adamantly refuse to allow her anywhere near his mother's establishment, Sarah was caught off guard when he gave a decisive nod of his head.

"Very well." His dark gaze took a thorough survey of her ridiculous uniform. "But you will not go there as my groom."

Sarah frowned in surprise. "Why ever not?"

A mocking smile curved his lips. "For one thing, I do not believe the maids could bear the heartache of encountering the irresistible Samuel."

Her lips thinned. "Do you have a better notion?"

"Yes," he retorted in that soft, utterly superior voice. "You shall accompany me."

"Absurd," Sarah burst out before she could halt the words. "You cannot introduce me to your mother."

His masculine features remained unruffled. "We shall say I discovered you beside the road after you had badly twisted your ankle and naturally, being a noble gentleman, I rushed to your aid. From there I carried you to the nearest home, which just happened to be my mother's."

For some reason the image of this gentleman carrying her anywhere made her heart miss a strategic beat. With an effort, she sternly reminded herself that sensible young ladies did not wish to be carried off-especially not by arrogant, high-handed gentlemen, even if they were insufferably handsome.

"I was walking without a maid?" she demanded, hoping she at least appeared sensible.

Lord Chance shrugged. "Of course, you sent her to fetch your carriage."

"And what of Lucky?"

"He will possess ample opportunity to search while the servants fuss over your injury."

Sarah gazed at the stubborn lord, wishing she could discover some fault to his plan. She did not like having another in command. "You do your mother no service in forcing an introduction to the daughter of the Devilish Dandy." She at last fell upon her last defense.

Predictably, he merely favored her with that lazy smile. "I have little doubt that my mother will take an instant liking to you. She possesses a decided weakness for outspoken, saucy young wenches."

Sarah stiffened. What the devil did he mean? She was calm, logical, and utterly practical. "I am not saucy."

"Only when provoked," he conceded softly.

"Which seems to happen only in your presence, sir," she said tartly.

The earl's dark eyes deliberately narrowed. "Now that, Miss Cresswell, is a most intriguing remark."