Rachel blinked in surprise. "What ever do you mean?"

"In a few days we will be leaving Surrey," he pointed out with a flare of regret for the poor child. "I begin to wonder if we have done Julia a grave disservice by teaching her to expect more of her days than sitting beside the window watching others through a telescope."

A hint of uncertainty dimmed her smile as she realized the logic in his low words.

"Surely it is better to have known a few days of freedom? The memories will bring her happiness for some time."

"Or discontent as she longs for what she now knows to be out of reach. She was resigned to her life before our arrival. I wonder if we have done more harm than good."

The uncertainty deepened to dismay as Rachel considered just how bleak Julia's future would be once they were gone.

"You are right," she breathed, her eyes darkening with concern. "We must do something."

Easy enough to say, but much more difficult to accomplish, Anthony sadly acknowledged. Julia's fate belonged firmly in the hands of her family. No court would allow him to interfere, even if it did make his stomach twist to think of leaving that child in her cold, lonely house.

"What would you have us do, my dear?" he asked in sympathetic tones.

"We must confront Lady Broswell and demand that she take better care of her daughter. I now have proof that Julia does indeed belong to her."

Anthony did not question how she had gained her knowledge. He was far more concerned with keeping the fiery minx from tumbling them all into disaster.

"Rachel, such a confrontation is more likely to frighten the woman into making Julia disappear completely. At least here she is properly fed and kept safe. If she were put in an orphanage or an asylum she would be prey to every bounder that wished to abuse her."

Her hands clenched at her side as she glared into his somber countenance.

"Then what can we do?"

For once Anthony did not have a ready answer. Although he was a gentleman who easily took command of difficulties, who indeed delighted in creating the possible out of the seemingly impossible, he could think of no simple solution to the problem.

"I fear I do not know at the moment. It will take some time to consider the problem."

Her lips tightened in a dauntingly familiar manner. "I will think of something. Lady Broswell will not be allowed to make that girl suffer. She has caused enough pain for one lifetime. This time I will ensure that something is done."

Anthony heaved a sigh.

Fate no doubt found it vastly amusing that a gentleman who had always lived a calm, placid existence with few disruptions had tumbled in love with a fiery, unpredictable minx who was quite likely to drive him to Bedlam.

Thirteen.

Standing in the shadows of a small alcove, Rachel carefully tracked her father's movements down the hallway and at last into the small parlor.

After two days of attempting to speak with her father in private, she had at last given up the bold approach and resorted to a more subtle method. It had taken nearly two hours of hovering in the chilled hallway, but at last her efforts had paid off.

She would have answers from her father. On this occasion he would not be allowed to slip away.

Moving across the hall, Rachel silently slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. Busy pouring himself a glass of brandy, Solomon did not realize he was no longer alone until she spoke.

"Hello, Father."

In obvious surprise he turned about to meet her narrowed gaze. It took only a heartbeat, however, for his practiced charm to return.

"Ah, good day, Rachel."

"May I have a word with you?"

"I fear I am rather occupied this afternoon."

Rachel placed her hands on her hips, not about to be dismissed after her long wait.

"You appear to be oddly occupied every afternoon," she accused.

"Yes, well, so goes the hectic life of a toasted leader of society." He gave an elegant shrug, then ran a hand down is deep-lavender coat. "Tell me, dearest, do you believe I have increased just a trifle about the waist? I accused my valet of moving the buttons, but he swears his innocence with tedious insistence. I can only suppose that he is telling the truth."

She gave a shake of her head at his deliberate attempt to distract her.

"You are precisely the same size you were yesterday, and the day before, Father. I shall not be fobbed off with your foolishness."

"Foolishness?" He sniffed in disapproval. "My dearest, I assure you that when a gentleman reaches my advanced years his waistline is of prime importance. You would not wish me waddling about like poor Prinny?"

There mere thought of her trim, always energetic father ever being as bloated as the unfortunate Prince Regent made her lips twist in reluctant amusement.

"What I wish is to discover why you are deliberately attempting to avoid me."

"Do not be a goose," he chided smoothly. "You know that I adore being with you."

"Really?" She took a deliberate step closer. "Then why are you forever disappearing the moment that I enter a room?"

"I do not disappear."

"Yes, you most certainly do."

He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Your imagination is running away from you. I am merely occupied with overseeing the packing of my bags and ensuring that the carriage is prepared for my departure on the morrow."

Rachel did not have to be a mind reader to realize he was lying. Her father was a master at disappearing at a moment's notice. And his servants had been well trained to ensure that they were always prepared. In his profession his very life depended on such ability.

"Ah yes," she drawled. "You are to visit your acquaintances, are you not?"

"Yes."

"I do not believe I am familiar with these mysterious acquaintances."

A renegade flare of amusement glittered in the green eyes at her mocking tone.

"I fear there is nothing mysterious about Lord and Lady Halford. They are staid, dull, and tediously predictable country gentry. Indeed, the only thing remarkable about them is the fact that they haven't the least conversation or wit. And as for their cook"-he gave a dramatic shudder-"well, let me just say that she has yet to discover a piece of meat or fish that she can not boil to the taste of an old shoe."

Rachel did not doubt that Lord and Lady Halford were as real as Father Christmas.

"If they are so dull and their cook so unskilled, why do you wish to visit them?"

He lifted his brows as if surprised by her perfectly reasonable question.

"My dear, it would hardly be polite to be in the neighborhood and not at least pay my respects."

"Fustian. You have never concerned yourself with being polite to anyone. Indeed, you are notorious for your ill manners. Why would you care what they think of you?"

"Egads, Rachel, you begin to sound remarkably like a wretched magistrate," he complained, setting aside his untouched brandy. "Is there a particular reason for plaguing me with these endless questions?"

She met his gaze squarely. "Because I think you are lying to me."

"My dear." He pressed his hands to his heart in a gesture that was suitable for the stage. "I am wounded."

Growing increasingly annoyed with his smooth ability to feint her every thrust, Rachel tossed civility to the wind.

"Not bloody likely. What are you plotting, old man?"

The Devilish Dandy gave a sudden laugh at her peevish tone. "You know me far too well, my dear."

"Yes, I do. And I know when you are about to embark on something rash and dangerous."

He sent her a reassuring smile. "I promise that it has nothing to do with you."

She was not appeased. "Does it include Violet?"

He stilled at her abrupt question, his expression impossible to read.

"What would make you think such a thing?"

"Really, Father, it is obvious you have developed a fancy for her," Rachel retorted. "I do not believe I have ever seen you in quite such a stew over a young lady."

"I see." With exquisite care the Devilish Dandy adjusted the cuff of his coat. "Tell me, do you like Miss Carlfield?"

Rachel gave an impatient click of her tongue. "Of course I do. I have been very attached to her since her first Season in London."

"She is a remarkable young lady," he murmured.

A growing suspicion bloomed to life in Rachel's heart. Her father had always been an outrageous flirt. And while he had always been discreet she did not doubt for a moment that he was very successful in seducing any number of women. But never before had he ever spoken of one of his conquests. Certainly he had never asked her opinion. She was beginning to realize her charming, elusive father had perhaps stumbled into a situation he could not manipulate.

A rather delicious thought, she had to acknowledge with wicked humor. It would serve the devious old man right to be dancing attendance on a woman half his age.

"Far too remarkable for the likes of Mr. Wingrove," she said deliberately.

The lean features tightened with a dangerous intensity. "Yes."

"You intend to save her, do you not?"

The green eyes blazed at her soft words before his lips twisted with rueful amusement hat having been so easily baited into revealing his emotions.

"If I am able to," he confessed.

Rachel suddenly understood Violet's interest in a life of scandal. If she was correct in that assuming her father intended to spirit the young lady from beneath her father's very nose, there was no doubt that there would be a dreadful uproar. Not only would Mr. Carlfield lose his only chance to save himself from his enormous debts, but he would soon discover that his only child had irrevocably attached herself to the notorious Devilish Dandy. Not an easy blow for any gentleman to bear. He would no doubt turn his back on Violet and insist that all others do the same.

Rachel sincerely hoped that Violet considered being saved from the clutches of Mr. Wingrove worth the cost of being branded with scandal.

"What will you do?"

"I can not discuss my plans. At least not yet. Be assured that I shall let you know when all is settled."

With a faint frown Rachel moved forward to place her hand on her father's arm. Although the Devilish Dandy always appeared invincible, she knew that he was all too human. She could not bear him taking unnecessary risks. Not when the threat of the hangman remained a distinct possibility.

"Father."

"Yes, my dear?"

"You will be careful?"

"For once I intend to take the greatest care, he assured her as he gave her hand a small squeeze. Then with a charming smile he stepped back. "Now I really must check on my valet. I can not have him shifting the buttons on any more coats."

Rachel allowed him to leave, familiar enough with his secretive nature to realize that she could not force a confession of his plans. She did, however, pause long enough to send up a silent prayer. She sensed her father would have need of every bit of his legendary skill and luck to perform his latest theft. It could not hurt to have some heavenly intervention on his side.

Rounding the corner of the house, Anthony caught sight of the familiar slender form seated on a bench in the garden. He came to a halt as he studied the delicate profile currently set into uncommonly somber lines.

For the past two days she had managed to avoid him. He realized that she had been intent on discovering her father's secret and that she had been concerned the older man might do something rash. But he also suspected that she had deliberately avoided being alone with him.

She had clearly sensed his possessive manner, he wryly acknowledged. And she was no doubt aware that he had every intention of proposing. She obviously preferred to avoid their inevitable confrontation rather than be forced to decide whether to follow her heart or to cling to her ridiculous fears.

Anthony had allowed her to elude his determined pursuit. Indeed, he understood it far too well. For years he had carried the uncertainty that his father's disappointment had lodged in his heart. It had been a long and difficult path to develop faith in himself.

Somehow he knew he would have to convince Rachel to gain her own faith.

He had waited long enough, he decided. Today Rachel would consent to be his wife or ... well, he would toss her over his shoulder and carry her off to Scotland.

Anthony smiled ruefully at his obvious descent into madness. What sane gentleman would willingly tie himself to the daughter of the Devilish Dandy? And be determined to do so whether she wished it or not?

He gave a shrug as he moved toward Rachel. Sane or not he had made his choice. Rachel would be his.

"You are appearing rather pensive, my dear," he said softly, coming to a halt beside her.

She glanced up in surprise. "Anthony."

"Is something troubling you?"