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were pale indeed when compared with the grandeur of the earl’s house.
    She lifted the lid of her basket and reached for the napkin bundling a dozen of the still-warm biscuits. The smell of chocolate fragranced the air, calming her nerves slightly. She took a deep breath, grateful for the familiar aroma, and lifted the bundle from the basket.
    And that was when she heard it.
    Staccato footsteps on the staircase the butler had ascended in search of his master. Oh, no. Sweat broke out on the small of her back as she rushed to place the napkin on the table. No, that wouldn’t do—what if the butter-stained cloth somehow damaged the unblemished wood of the table? She turned left and right, looking for a less valuable location for the package, but everything around her looked equally priceless.
    As the footsteps grew louder, she crammed the bundle back into her basket, set the whole blasted thing on the floor, and dashed for the door.
    “Miss Bunting?”
    Caught! Jane froze, her heart lodged in her throat. The voice belonged to a woman, not the butler or, worse, the earl as she had expected. Taking a bracing breath, she slowly turned to face the woman who had successfully thwarted her escape.
    “Yes?” Jane asked, the word sounding perilously close to a squeak as she raised her gaze from the marble floor, up the exquisite skirts of a glorious silvery ball gown, past the perfectly fitted bodice and the tastefully bejeweled neck, all the way up to the stunningly beautiful features of the woman’s smiling face.
    Oh, mercy, this goddess of a woman must be the earl’s wife.
    “Miss Bunting, are you quite all right?”
    No, no, she wasn’t. Jane blinked and suddenly realized two men followed behind the blond woman in the ball gown. The one closest to the lady was tall with broad shoulders, thick dark hair, dark eyes, and a very concerned expression on his face.
    Jane looked past him to the third member of their little welcoming party. He had perfectly coiffed blond curls, gorgeous blue eyes—one of which was surrounded by a light purplish bruise—a tall, lean build encased in infinitely fine and perfectly fitting evening clothes, and an utterly disdainful expression.
    Jane’s heart dropped right to the floor. She knew that look.
    With his impeccable clothes and rakishly debonair hairstyle, he looked completely different from the man who had burst into her shop that morning. But there was no mistaking the way he was looking at her now.
    “Lord . . . Lord Raleigh?”
    “I believe you know me as Lord Lunatic, Miss Bunting.”

Chapter Five
    Richard enjoyed the satisfaction of the remark for all of three seconds. That was exactly how long it took for Evie to whirl around and wallop him in the shoulder.
    “Richard!” she hissed, widening her eyes meaningfully at him before turning back to the shopkeeper. “Please, Miss Bunting, ignore my brother. He thinks he is being clever.”
    Richard scowled at the back of Evie’s head as she stepped forward to greet Miss Bunting—Jane—with outstretched hands. The meddlesome creature—how dare she come to the blasted shopgirl’s defense? He glanced toward Benedict for commiseration, but his friend only shook his head and followed his wife. The traitor. Marriage will do that to a man.
    It was rather annoying that they both knew the whole sordid story of the baker’s outrageous behavior and yet they were all that was welcoming and kind.
    “I am Lady Evelyn Hastings, and this is my husband, Mr. Benedict Hastings. And you are Miss Jane Bunting. I do hope that you will forgive my appalling lack of manners, but I did so want to meet you.” Evie smiled brightly as she took the baker’s hands in her own. “My goodness, something smells positively divine! Tell me, what have you brought us?”
    Jane looked like nothing so much as a confused sheep, her skin pale and her eyes wide as Evie moved a hand to her shoulder and herded her toward the basket on the floor. She wasn’t so brassy