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prowl around the room. It didn’t take him long to discover that his library had been expertly searched. He’d known where to put his hand on any book he wanted, but now the piles of books on his desk and floor were in the wrong order, while the papers and letters were neatly stacked, too neatly to be his work. What hadAlex been looking for? And what was he, Hugh, suspected of?
    His mind began to sift through their conversation. He’d assumed that Alex had come to Bath to try and recruit him, but if Maitland were in charge of things, that didn’t seem likely. Then why was Alex here, and why the questions about Abbie and the warning at the end?
    Deep in thought, Hugh left the library and made his way upstairs.

CHAPTER 3
    D espite the bad weather, polite society flocked to the dress ball in Bath’s New Assembly Rooms. Hugh had just come from the card room and was standing inside the entrance to the ballroom, watching the dancing. When he saw Abbie, his lips softened in a smile.
    When he first met her, he’d thought she was merely pleasant looking. He couldn’t remember when his opinion began to change, but now he considered her one of the loveliest women he knew. Her large gray eyes were her best feature. They could be as cool as ice or they could fill with passion, but that, unfortunately, was the passion for ancient history. If she would only look at him the way she looked at fragments of Roman pottery, he’d be a happy man.
    When the dancers parted, giving Hugh a clearer view of Abbie, his smile died. She was wearing one of the daring ensembles she’d purchased in Paris. He stared at the short bodice that revealed an expanse of tender white flesh, then he looked down at the raised hem that gave him a glimpse of trim ankles in white silk stockings.
    What thedevil had she been getting up to in his absence?
    The steps of the dance had brought Abbie within arms’ reach of him. He resisted the temptation to grab her away from the young fop she was dancing with, but when her eyes met his, he couldn’t hide what he was feeling.
    For a fleeting moment, Hugh’s jealousy blazed, then sanity returned. This wasn’t like him. What was the matter with him?
    He was still brooding, he supposed, over Alex’s parting shot about his poor record with women and, by implication, that Abbie was up to something behind his back. History wasn’t repeating itself, he told himself irritably. Abbie was nothing like his first wife. Then what was behind Alex’s pointed warning? And why the reference to Paris? What reason could there be to distrust Abbie?
    On that thought, he looked around the rows of spectators, mostly dowagers and chaperones, who were seated at one side of the ballroom, and his eyes came to rest on Abbie’s companion. Olivia Fairbairn was tall and stout, in her mid-fifties, with brown hair liberally peppered with gray. He liked her well enough. She was a kind-hearted soul. But he could never converse with her without talking at cross purposes. Miss Fairbairn had the unfortunate habit of hearing only what she wanted to hear. If he were to ask her about Paris, there was no saying where the conversation might end up.
    He was on the point of turning away when Major Danvers, the gentleman sitting next to Miss Fairbairn, threw him a pleading look and waved him over. There was no escape now. Stifling a sigh, he sauntered over.

    Abbie tried to focus on the question her partner had asked, something about her brother George, but her mind wasn’t functioning properly. She was still reeling from the look Hugh had blazed at her. He was angry about something and she thought it was probably because her well-meaning mother had tried to pressure him into marriage. She hoped he didn’t think the idea had come from her!
    “No,” she answered mechanically as the steps of the dance brought her back to her partner. “George is not in Bath. He may have decided to stop off in London, on his way home from Paris, or he might have met some