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that down.”
    Without thinking, she removed the handkerchief from her bodice and carefully wiped the rim before she sipped. When she looked up, she caught Trent’s wicked grin and followed his line of vision. “Oh.” Her face flamed as she hastily retucked the damp cloth back into place.
    When Mrs. Grumm finally reappeared, it was with candles to light them upstairs. Trent drained the last of his ale and wiped his mouth with a frayed napkin before standing and stretching his tall frame.
    “Ready, Ellen?”
    She eyed him dubiously now, uncertain as to what he must think of her and yet unwilling to give herself away to the waiting Mrs. Grumm. “I—I suppose so,” she answered finally.
    She trod the stairs with trepidation behind the marquess, afraid of what he might do. She sincerely hoped that she would be able to convince him that she was not fast and that she would not behave in an improper manner.
    “Really, my dear, must you give it out that I snore?” he murmured as he shut the door behind them. “And if you are willing to share my chamber now, why the devil did you not do so at the other place?” He eyed the room with distaste. “At least there we should have been more comfortable.” He turned his back and bent to remove his shoes while adding, “And at that place, ’twas because beds were scarce. You certainly have not that excuse here.”
    She stood rooted to the floor when he stood up and began unbuttoning his wrinkled coat. “You will find what you need in that box. Dobbs brought it up while we were at supper,” he told her conversationally as he draped the coat over a chair and loosened his wilted cravat. Tugging at it until it hung limply at his throat, he then turned his attention to removing his waistcoast. Her face flamed when he looked up and stopped.
    “What are you doing, my lord?” she choked.
    “Getting ready to seek my bed, and I recommend you do the same, Ellen.”
    “I did not give you leave to use my name.”
    He raised a black eyebrow as he began undoing the studs at his wrists. “A little late for such formality, don’t you think, my dear?”
    “I am not your dear, either!” She wiped damp palms against the muslin skirt and faced him bravely. “My lord, you have the wrong impression if you think that I—that I …” Her voice trailed off as she realized she had his full attention.
    “Do you not think I can tell a respectable female when I see one, Ellen?” he asked in amusement. “I have been funning with you, but my eyes tell me you are devilish straitlaced, my dear, and I certainly am not given to rapine.”
    “But you are undressing!”
    “Only this far, I promise. You would not want me to get into bed in my shoes and coat, would you? Think how uncomfortable we should both be.”
    “I cannot share a bed with you, my lord!” she gasped, mortified.
    “Well, since I see naught but this straight wooden chair, there doesn’t appear to be a choice, does there? Ellen—Miss Marling—if it becomes known that you have been alone in my company for an hour even, the prattlers will have it that the worst has happened, anyway,” he told her practically. “I advise you to take off your shoes and loosen your corset if you are wearing one, and crawl into bed. ’Tis late and we’ve a long way to go tomorrow.” He walked over to stand in front of her. She stared in fascination where he’d unbuttoned the neck of his shirt and black hair curled there. “Look—you are safe enough with me, Ellen. As I told you before, you simply are not in my style.” He picked up the chair where he’d draped his coat and carried it to the door.
    “What are you doing?”
    “Leaning this under the doorknob, my dear. I am not so obtuse that I do not know why you have insinuated yourself into my chamber, and I’ve no wish to be kept awake with your fears. You may sleep secure that any attempt to enter this room will waken me.”
    “You do not like this place, either!”
    “No, I do not,