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girl. He couldn’t put her in one of the house’s bedrooms. Even if he hadn’t thought she’d rob them blind and run away at the first opportunity, Crawford would never allow it.
    She would have to stay where he could keep an eye on her. His dressing room? Dane closed his eyes. He needed to consider that this might turn out to be Lady Elizabeth, however unlikely that seemed at the moment. If rumor that he’d shared the night with her circulated, she would be ruined. Of course, wasn’t she already ruined? God knew where she’d lived or what she’d done all these years. Crawford was capable of discretion, even when he ardently disapproved. His loyalties to the family usually outweighed his rigid sense of propriety. Dane, having relied on Crawford’s discretion a time or two, knew this firsthand. And Crawford could bully any of the other servants into keeping quiet should they realize the girl had slept in his room.
    â€œCrawford, I shall need your assistance with a delicate task.” He pulled the butler aside and explained quietly. The man pursed his lips, but that was the only outward sign that he disapproved.
    Dane sent Crawford to do his bidding, then checked his pocket watch. It was late. Very late. He strolled to the door where the girl was bathing. “Are you almost done?”
    â€œDon’t you dare come in!”
    Dane looked heavenward in silent entreaty and stepped away. He was going to throttle Brook when he saw him. Dane could not believe he was sneaking a girl to his room. He felt like a randy youth again. At least when she emerged, she would not look like a girl anymore.
    But then the door opened, and he realized he was very, very wrong.

Three
    Marlowe had never liked baths, but she had not realized they could be taken in warm, clean water with fragrant soap. She didn’t particularly want to smell like a flower, but it wasn’t the worst thing she’d smelled like. The towels she’d dried herself with had been soft and fluffy. She’d never had a towel before. She’d had a small, scratchy cloth she could use for her face, but it rubbed her skin raw with its coarseness. These towels were so soft she wanted to wrap herself in them and wear them all the time.
    Instead, she wound one about her dripping wet hair. She would probably die from a chill, but once she’d begun to clean her body, she couldn’t stop there. Her hair felt heavy with grime, and she’d washed it until it rinsed clean. The water, when she stepped out, was black. She hadn’t realized she had so much dirt on her. As she dressed, she noted her fingernails had white half-moons at the tip, and her skin had a pinkish tinge.
    The clothing the bastard had provided her was a bit snug. She didn’t have any strips to bind her breasts, and she couldn’t put her stays back on by herself, even if she’d wanted to. Looking at them now, all gray with grime, she was not sad to be free of them. But without anything between her skin and the shirt, her breasts stretched the material slightly. The trousers were snug as well, but the shirt was long enough to cover her hips and bottom. She found a cap tucked into the pocket of the trousers, and after drying her hair as best she could, she piled it on her head and set the cap on top.
    That was about the time the bastard knocked on the door. She jumped at the sound, and though she was dressed, ordered him not to enter. She needed another moment. She had to don her own shoes again, and took the dagger she had hidden in the pockets of her dress and shoved it in her boot as she usually did. She wouldn’t be unprepared for whatever the bastard had in mind.
    But the bastard was the least of her worries. Satin was going to kill her. It wouldn’t matter if she’d been abducted; she would be to blame for the loss of the cargo Gideon and the boys would have taken in the better-racket. Gideon…what did he think had