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linen jacket.
    â€œWhat happened?”
    Blanche knelt next to him, holding a handkerchief to his face. “A couple of sailors suggested something rude—”
    â€œI’m a lover, not a fighter,” Pem said mournfully. “But I gave it my best shot at defending her honor.”
    Blanche laughed, clearly unaffected by Pem’s misery. “Good thing a gendarme happened by or he just might be defending me on the bottom of the Seine.”
    â€œBreak my heart, will you, Blanche?” Pem turned to Dash. “I had it sorted.”
    â€œI’m sure you did. Want to point me in the direction of those sots?” Dash said as he hooked his hand under Pem’s arm and hauled him to his feet as Blanche scrambled up beside him. Pem took the handkerchief, examined it.
    Rosie put her hand on his arm. “Dash.”
    He glanced at her. “C’mon, Red. You’re not going to let Pem bleed for nothing, are you?”
    â€œI think I don’t want you bleeding all over my new dress.”
    â€œI’ll buy you another one.” He grinned at her and tucked his arm around her waist, his voice low in her ear. “It’s too early for the night to be tamed, don’t you think, Red?”
    Oh.
    His voice could turn her to honey, and she kept hearing his words…
    Inspiration.
    She was his inspiration .
    But it scared her a little too. She feared what his words might encourage if they continued their walk along the Seine.
    â€œTake me home, Dash. There is plenty of taming yet to do this season. Besides, we have to get up early if we want to make the train.”
    His grin didn’t quite meet his eyes, but he hailed a cab. They squeezed into the backseat, she sat on Dash’s lap, and he let his hand linger on the small of her back, heating her through.
    When they reached her house, he climbed out behind and walked her to the door. In the shadows he pressed a lingering kiss to her lips, suggestion in his touch. “The moon is still up, and Lilly is asleep.”
    â€œDash—”
    â€œYou know I won’t sleep a wink for thinking of you.”
    She pressed her hand to his chest, the doorframe in her spine. “Tomorrow—”
    â€œYes, tomorrow. We’ll play the ponies for more than money.” He winked. “I’ll be by at six.”
    Her voice had vanished and she let herself inside, closing the door and leaning against it as she counted her heartbeats.
    Then she smiled and pressed her fingers to her lips. Maybe she was just a pretty girl in Paris, maybe this was all she could dream.
    But what if this was everything?
    Lilly. She’d have to waken her and tell her their plans. Then pack a picnic lunch. Then lay out her clothing and bathe…
    Perhaps Blanche had been correct—they should have simply stayed out all night.
    Rosie shook away the smile and took the stairs lightly, then padded down the hall to Lilly’s room. She wouldn’t be surprised to find her cousin still reading, the light pooling over her pillows, or even before the hearth, a fire crackling to ward off the spring chill.
    As she opened the door, an eerie silence breathed through her. No cracking fire, no slumber breathing from Lilly’s bed. Lilly’s still-made bed. Rosie turned on the light and stared, her heart loosening from its moors and dropping.
    No Lilly. And from the looks of it, she hadn’t returned all day.
    Rosie didn’t care that she awoke Amelia, or that the housekeeper was in her nightclothes. “Did Lilly come home today?”
    Amelia shook her head. “No, ma’am. I thought she was with you.”
    Rosie pressed her hand against her breath, hot in her chest. “She’s not here?”
    Amelia shook her head then grabbed her robe to follow Rosie back to Lilly’s boudoir. Rosie stood in the lit room, unable to purge the images too easily conjured. “Where could she be?”
    She went to the alcove in the