"I am flattered," she mocked. Then, as the carriage abruptly halted, she glanced out of the window. "There is Lucky."

The carriage door was pulled open and Lucky bounced in even as the horses were once again urged into motion. Flopping on the seat next to Miss Cresswell, the lad heaved a tragic sigh. "Another bust. Not so much as a hidden quid. That housekeeper must be a real dragon."

Chance couldn't help but be amused at Lucky's patent disgust at such a well-regulated household. "Mrs. Bross is quite efficient," he commiserated.

"No doubt the sort that pokes her nose into every crook and cranny."

"Yes, quite detestable."

"I'd say," Lucky retorted with genuine horror.

Giving a slight shake of her head at their antics, Miss Cresswell turned the conversation to more important matters. "So we have seemingly ruled out the servants at both your brother's and your mother's homes."

"Ah, yes, I almost forgot." Chance reached into his greatcoat to remove a folded slip of paper. He handed it to the curious maiden opposite him. "My brother had this delivered yesterday."

Miss Cresswell skimmed the list of names with a professional eye. "Good."

Chance was again reaching into his pocket to produce a prettily wrapped package. "The maid who brought the note also requested that this trifling gift be given to Samuel."

"Oh." Her firm features promptly flushed with color. "I suppose you think this vastly amusing."

"Not at all." Chance heaved a mocking sigh. "It is rather lowering to consider that your brief charade as a male managed to slay the heart of a modest maiden while the remainder of us gentlemen must struggle for days, perhaps weeks to win the briefest of smiles."

Miss Cresswell's blue eyes sparked with danger. "Sir . . ."

"However, I do hope you write to the poor dear and inform her that her hopes are for naught."

"I shall do no such thing."

"I beg you to reconsider." He regarded her from beneath lowered lids. "Imagine my discomfort at having a lovelorn maiden hovering about my home in the hopes of glimpsing the elusive Samuel. Why, she might go into a decline and expire upon my doorstep. Then where should I be?"

Her lips thinned in annoyance, but before she could speak, the scent of apple tarts drifting from the package overpowered the young urchin.

"Are you going to eat that?" he demanded in hopeful tones.

Miss Cresswell promptly shoved the gift into his ready hands. "Here."

"Are you blushing, Miss Cresswell?" Chance lightly teased.

"No, I am not," she denied. "I am simply cold."

"Allow me." With gentle care, Chance leaned forward to pull the blanket up to her shoulders, lingering to gaze deep into her widened blue eyes. "You smell of lilacs."

A timeless moment passed as Chance allowed his gaze to drop to the satin softness of her lips. What would they taste like beneath his mouth? Would they part in invitation? Would they tremble with innocent fear or ignite with passion?

A crazed, nearly uncontrollable urge to discover the truth had his head bending downward before her soft gasp had him abruptly sitting back in his seat.

Good gads. What was he thinking? He was no clumsy schoolboy to attempt to make love to a maiden in his own carriage-and with Lucky looking on, to boot.

Clearly he was in need of seeking a new mistress.

Maybe several.

"Shall we discuss the names upon the list?" Miss Cresswell asked in uneven tones.

Chance struggled to regain his normal nonchalance. "By all means."

She peered at the list. "May I ask who Fiona is?"

Drat. Chance gave a small cough, his entire body tingling with an unfamiliar heat.

"My brother's . . ."

"Mistress?" she finished with a casualness he could only envy.

"Yes."

"I believe I shall investigate her next. She must have some acquaintances among the courtesans."

His momentary discomfort was banished at her outrageous proposal. "You cannot visit a member of the demimonde."

"I can and I will, my lord," she retorted in firm tones, a hint of cool challenge in her blue eyes. "I quite understand if you prefer to cry off."

His lips snapped together. Whatever insanity had given him the sharp desire to bed this maiden did not diminish his realization that she was, indeed, a lady. He would not allow her to tramp through the dens of iniquity unattended.

The devil take Ben and his foolish behavior, he seethed. By rights he should be the one in this carriage.

The earl dismissed the thought as soon as it entered his head. If anyone was going to the local brothels with Miss Cresswell, it was he.

"I shall call on you first thing in the morning."

Six.

The following morning, Sarah attired herself in a heavy wool gown and scraped back her hair in a stern mood. She had deliberately ignored the cabinet filled with satin and jaconet gowns that were far more flattering.

She was a spinster, she reminded herself for the hundredth time since she had fled Lord Chance's carriage. She was far too old, not to mention far too wise, to yearn for the feel of a gentleman's kiss.

Granted, when he had been poised above her in the carriage, her stomach had trembled with a strange excitement. And perhaps her dreams had been troubled by pale, elegant features and mocking black eyes. But it was nothing more than ... a momentary lapse.

This morning she was once again in firm command. And she possessed the comfort of knowing Lord Chance could not possibly have suspected her brief madness.

And he would never suspect, she assured herself as she crisply headed out of her chambers and down to the front salon.

From today forward she would be calm, rational, and utterly sensible, not at all the sort of maiden to yearn for heated kisses.

With this comforting thought, she swept inside the room, prepared to await Lord Chance's arrival. She had taken only a few steps, however, when she stumbled to a halt at the sight of her father.

Once again, he was flamboyantly attired in a striped crimson coat and knee breeches. And once again he sported that ridiculous eye patch.

Turning from the pier mirror, where he was busily fussing with his cravat, he offered her a roguish smile. "Oh, Sarah, tell me what you think." He minced in a circle to offer her the full effect of his ensemble. "A trifle gaudy perhaps, but precisely what a French rogue would choose, I believe."

Sarah gave a delicate shudder. "It is very bright."

"Festive," the Devilish Dandy corrected. "Precisely what is needed to combat this dreary English weather."

"I believe the weather is particularly fine in India," she said in dry tones.

"As hot as Hades, I should rather think."

Strolling further into the room, she eyed her unpredictable relative with a firm gaze. "May I inquire where you took yourself off to yesterday?"

"But of course." He gave a vague shrug. "As I promised, I was assisting you, my dearest."

Sarah felt a chill of dismay inch down her spine. She had no desire for her father's particular brand of assistance. "What have you done?"

He calmly arranged the lace at his cuffs. "Merely made a few discreet inquiries among those who would be in a position to know if the Chance diamonds were floating about."

She released a tiny sigh. Her father was clearly indifferent to the danger of his position in London. Indeed, she would not put it past him to visit the Prince himself if the urge was to take him. At least he should be safe enough if he remained among those he trusted.

"And are they?" she demanded, knowing that if anyone could discover the truth it was her father.

"No. There has not been so much as a whisper."

Sarah nibbled her bottom lip. "So whoever has taken them has not yet attempted to sell them."

"Not in London," Solomon pointed out. Then, holding out one foot, he studied the pointed shoe. "What of these buckles?"

Sarah shook her head in a rueful fashion. "Ghastly."

"I fear you may be right." He sighed. "Still, they set my stockings off quite nicely."

Sarah was no more fond of the pink stockings than the flashy buckles. "Few gentlemen still wear such attire unless it is a formal affair."

"But I am an elderly, rather eccentric gentleman who prefers the more gracious fashions of days past." That charming smile flashed again. "Besides, it would be a sin to hide such a shapely calf."

The memory of another lethally charming gentleman referring to shapely legs sent a shock of heat through her body. She stiffened in annoyance with herself. "Please, Father, I have heard quite enough of legs in the past two days."

"Really?" His one visible green eye narrowed. "I thought you were with Lord Chance."

Sarah refused to blush. The devil take Lord Chance. "I was."

"And he speaks to you of legs? Perhaps I should have a word with the gentleman. I will not have my daughter treated as a lightskirt."

"You will do no such thing," Sarah retorted in tones that defied argument. "Lord Chance is interested in nothing more than retrieving his mother's diamonds."

"No gentleman is that tediously dull-witted," her father protested.

"No, he is not dull-witted. He is arrogant, interfering, and altogether annoying."

Too late, she realized she had revealed more of her inner disturbance than she had intended. With a practiced motion, Solomon raised his quizzing glass.

"Well, well."

"Do not regard me in that fashion, Father."

"No, no, enfin." He gave a click of his tongue. "Not Father, but Uncle Pierre."

Sarah rolled her eyes at his chastisement. "You do realize that if you encounter a true Frenchman, he will no doubt run you through for torturing his language in such a wretched fashion?"

The quizzing glass dropped as the Devilish Dandy gave an indifferent shrug. "He might make the attempt."

Knowing her father was indeed a master with both a sword and pistols, Sarah allowed his confident boast to stand. "Will you be dining in tonight?"

"I have received an invitation to dine with Mrs. Surton and several other notable guests."

Sarah took a startled step forward. "No."

"Do not fret." Her father gave a chuckle at her obvious dismay. "I have sent a lovely bouquet along with my regrets that I possess a prior engagement. Such a lovely lady."

"She is detestable, as you well know," Sarah retorted in tart tones. No one could ever presume to consider Mrs. Surton as a lovely lady, not even the Devilish Dandy. "But I have need of her for my school. I would appreciate your staying away from her."

"So she can dribble out a pittance and keep you firmly beneath her heel?" A rare hint of annoyance flickered over his lean features. "Nonsense. With a bit of encouragement, I can assure that she provides you a proper sum as well as keep her far too occupied to bother you."

It was, indeed, a tempting thought, she acknowledged, to have the money that was so vital to keep the school open with none of the aggravation of enduring the meddlesome attentions of Mrs. Surton. At the same moment, she realized she could not possibly allow her father to trifle with the older woman's affections. Good heavens, could there be anything worse than having a lovesick Mrs. Surton crying upon her shoulder? The revolting image sent a shudder through her slender frame. "I appreciate the thought, but I would prefer you do not meddle in my affairs."

Solomon gave a pat to his intricate cravat. "But, my dear, I am your father. It is my duty to meddle."

Sarah's expression hardened. "Father."

"Not now, Sarah," the Devilish Dandy pleaded as he strolled toward the door. "I really must be off."

"Where are you going?"

Pausing in the doorway, Solomon smiled with wicked amusement. "Did I not tell you? I am meeting Lord Maxwell. Au revoir, my dearest."

The ornate brothel was discreetly set back from the street and nearly hidden by a high hedge.

It was a house Sarah had, shockingly, visited on a number of occasions. Her work with children had often included those offsprings of prostitutes. And as one of the most elegant and renowned brothels in London, it had only been a matter of time before she had arrived on the doorstep to meet with the notorious owner.

In truth, Sarah had been caught off guard by Madame Vallenway, not only by her shrewd intelligence, but by her genuine concern for the women who resided in her brothel. Although Sarah could never condone such a life, she was wise enough to realize the woman could prove a valuable ally in improving the future for the children born within her home.