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and strong in her veins. Oh, why was it Anthony Craven made her pulse race as it had never done before, made her every nerve tingle? She was foolish in the extreme to allow her thoughts to travel this path.
    What was it about him that…stimulated her so? The way his clothes caressed his lithe frame, or the hint of dark stubble along the sculpted line of his jaw? She busied herself with smoothing her skirt, praying he would step away and leave her with some semblance of sanity. She had seen the man exactly twice. This…attraction was surely a temporary madness.
    After a moment, Lord Anthony withdrew to his own chair and sat watching her in narrow-eyed contemplation. His intent regard held a degree of puzzlement, and Emma wondered if he, too, felt the inexplicable current that pulsed between them.
    He looked away as Griggs arrived with another warming dish. Emma wondered at the peculiarity of this household to have the coachman serve as footman, and heavens knew what else.
    They each served themselves from the array of foods offered, with Lord Anthony helping his son to fill his plate. Emma noted absently that there was a boiled rice pudding dotted with currants and flavored with cinnamon and vanilla, an unusual breakfast choice unless one was a six-year-old child. Nicky was especially excited about it, demanding a huge scoop alongside his eggs and bacon.
    Once seated, Nicky chattered to his father and sent Emma several uncertain glances, as if expecting some reprimand. She smiled reassuringly when she caught his eye, but refrained from entering the discussion. Still grappling with her inexplicable physical response to Lord Anthony, she felt unequal to the challenge of polite conversation. Moreover, she wanted to take this opportunity to simply observe Nicky and learn a bit about him. She had a strong suspicion that the child would come around to her fairly quickly, if this morning's experience was any indication. Had she been alone she would have laughed out loud at her recollection of Nicky galloping down the hallway dragging her behind.
    Nicky stuffed a piece of scone smothered in strawberry preserves into his mouth, then gathered up a fistful of shirt from over his chest and rubbed it forcefully across his jam-stained lips. He stopped mid-action and turned a frozen stare in Emma’s direction, his mouth a little round 'O' of terror. Stomach clenching at the sight of his fear, Emma raised her serviette from her lap and blotted it delicately on her own lips. She held Nicky's gaze the entire time, then purposefully looked down at the serviette that lay on the table beside his plate. The child's eyebrows shot upward as he grabbed the linen square and enthusiastically scrubbed his mouth.
    Glancing up, Emma found Lord Anthony studying her with a slow perusal that left her feeling as though her skin tingled in the wake of his regard. Then he nodded once, an action she read as silent approval of her handling of his son.
    Again Emma felt that odd sensation of having her expectations turned upside down. She had assumed that all the previous governesses had fled from Lord Anthony's evil influence. Yet, given the conversation she had overheard in the kitchen coupled with Lord Anthony's evident concern for his child, she was faced with confusing and conflicting information. It was feasible that he had merely dismissed those women from his employ. She had barely formulated that thought when the words Nicky had spoken in the kitchen slammed through her mind. Send her off in a pine box. Just like he sent Mrs. Winter .
    Before Emma had a chance to ponder further that chilling possibility, Griggs returned to the breakfast room and leaned over to whisper something in Lord Anthony's ear. Whatever news Griggs imparted seemed to cast an immediate pall over His Lordship's mood. No explanation was forthcoming. He simply placed his serviette beside his near-empty plate and stood.
    “You will excuse me, Miss Parrish.” His gaze lingered on her