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bother to ask how she happened to be in a private bedroom with her uncle, but I imagine there could be a perfectly innocent explanation. Perhaps she was eloping, and her uncle had come to put a stop to it. In which case her intended should show up at any moment, and they’ll be off to Gretna Green.”
    “ I don’t think so.”
    “ Don’t you? For some reason, I don’t think so either.” Killoran leaned back. “She might very well take that money and present herself to Mrs. Withersedge. Or she might simply head out into the streets and earn her crust of bread that way. I do hope not.”
    “ Why not?”
    “ Because it would be such a waste. She’s worth more than a ha’penny a tumble.”
    “ We shouldn’t have left her,” Nathaniel said.
    Killoran yawned. “You will discover, young Nathaniel, that there are a great many strays and lost souls in this life. You can’t waste your time worrying about them. Granted, few of them are quite as luscious as Miss Incognita of the Pear and Partridge, but few of them are as dangerous.”
    “ Dangerous? Why would she be dangerous?”
    Killoran contemplated telling the truth, and only one good reason stopped him. If he informed Nathaniel Hepburn that he’d taken the blame for the old man’s death, the young fool might mistakenly think he’d done something noble. Killoran certainly had no interest in nobility, no interest in anything other than his own amusement. And he had no desire for anyone’s good opinion, least of all that of his sullen companion. The very thought alarmed him. “Dear boy,” he said faintly, “all beautiful women are dangerous. Haven’t you learned that at your advanced age?”
    “ I don’t—”
    “ We’re here,” Killoran said abruptly, interrupting him as the carriage drew to a halt outside his town house. He glanced at the huge gray-and-white structure and sighed. “And I doubt we’re alone.”
    “ You have guests?” Nathaniel was horrified.
    “ Presumably just one. I should have expected her.”
    “ Her?” His voice rose in shock.
    It was almost going to be too easy, debauching this stalwart innocent, Killoran thought fondly. Perhaps he’d start tonight, with the aid of the woman who was waiting for him.
    The house was warm and well lit, the rich, almost decadent elegance of the place soothing to his soul. Nathaniel followed behind him, staring around with unconcealed wonder. Doubtless Killoran’s house on Curzon Street was like nothing he’d ever seen in Northumberland, full of ornate, Oriental colors and furnishings, more like a sultan’s palace than an English town house. It amused Killoran to keep it that way, a reaction to the simple country farmhouse in Ireland where he’d lived with his parents. Until that wretched day his father had inherited the title from his drunken older brother, the second Earl of Killoran, who had a tendency to ride too fast and too carelessly when he’d had too much to drink. And Killoran’s life had never been the same.
    Jeffries, his majordomo, was waiting, an expression of vague concern marring his usually imperturbable face.
    “ Don’t look so distressed, Jeffries,” he drawled as his servant and guest trailed him into the salon. “I gather Lady Barbara is here.”
    The concern vanished. “She is, your lordship.”
    “ And where, may I ask, is she?”
    “ In your bed, your lordship.”
    “ Lady Barbara grows very tedious,” he murmured. “Send Mrs. Rumson up to inform her that I’m here with a guest, and if she doesn’t get her delectable little arse out of my covers, then I’ll have her tossed into the street in what she’s wearing. Which I imagine isn’t much.”
    “ Would his lordship object if it were phrased as a polite request?”
    “ His lordship would object,” Killoran said, throwing himself into a chair by the fire. “And bring me some brandy. Three glasses, assuming Lady Barbara will dress and join us.”
    “ I don’t drink brandy,” Nathaniel said,