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caretaker?”
    “With your help, of course.”
    “Of course,” she returned dryly.
    “Come now, Ash. Don’t despair. The house is in a state of chaos, remember? No one will suspect anything out of the ordinary.”
    Ashley appeared to concede on those grounds, but was quick to point out, “And while we dine below, who will stand watch over the girl?”
    “I simply won’t leave my room. A few missed meals won’t generate much attention, not with pandemonium already reigning throughout the house.”
    “And on the night of the ball?”
    He paused to look over his shoulder at the slumbering gypsy. “Perhaps a few days of rest will restore her strength and mend her injury. She may yet be well enough to leave before the ball begins.”
    “And if she is not?”
    “I will find a solution to that predicament should it arise.” He glanced back at his troubled twin to underline, “But the girl isn’t leaving until she has recovered.”
    There was a brevity of silence in which Ashley absently aligned the bottles on the desk.
    “Anthony, if those men labeled her a criminal I don’t see why you dismissed their claim so effortlessly. What evidence do you have of her innocence?”
    “What evidence do I have of her guilt?”
    “That isn’t sufficient reason to conceal a possible offender.”
    He sighed heavily at that point. “I doubt very much she is the offender. Those men weren’t seeking justice when they attacked an unarmed woman.”
    “Perhaps they were.” Ashley glanced over to the bed. “For a poor gypsy, she wears a rather well-crafted gold locket.”
    Anthony paused his mixing to peer over his shoulder. Resting on the small table next to the bed was the gold ornament Ashley was referring to. “Then perhaps the girl is not so very poor after all. I’m not going to assume she has stolen the locket simply because you believe the piece is beyond her means.”
    “Why? Because you don’t like to think poorly of a handsome woman?”
    “No, because I refuse to believe those men would risk life and limb by fighting me for a mere trinket of a locket.”
    Her doubtful eyes lifted to connect with her brother’s. “I do hope you know what you’re doing, Anthony.”
    “I always do.” An unladylike snort came his way, and he offered her a reassuring smile before setting the spoon back on the desk. “The salt has dissolved.”
    Peeking into the bowl to confirm her sibling’s assessment, Ashley then took the scrap of linen and dipped it into the saline wash, wringing the excess liquid.
    “I have another favor to ask of you,” he began tentatively.
    She quirked a questioning golden brow.
    “Will you go below to prepare our patient a meal?”
    Her shoulders slumped forward in dismay. “Do you really think you should be alone with the girl?”
    “I don’t believe my life is in any peril.”
    “I mean, it’s improper for you to be tending to a woman not your wife,” she qualified, somewhat annoyed.
    “There is nothing improper about setting a compress over her brow. Now will you fetch her some food? She’s likely to be famished after all this time.”
    Ashley’s verdant green eyes darted between the patient and her brother, all the while mulling over the request. At last she sighed. “Oh, very well.” Dropping the cloth into the basin, she headed for the door. “I’ll be back soon.” Then more sternly: “Behave yourself, Anthony.”
    He shook his head at his sister’s monition. Honestly, did she expect him to act any other way?
    Gathering the bowl, he treaded quietly toward the sleeping nymph. She looked so peaceful, he reflected, taking steady, even breaths, her eyes closed, the thick fringes of midnight-black lashes fluttering on occasion.
    He placed the tonic on the nightstand, then proceeded to lock the door to stave off any unwelcome visitors. Back by his gypsy’s side, he studied her for a long while. She seemed so vulnerable, adrift amidst the layers of blankets, dwarfed by the four-poster