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apology, then turned to do as Grace had told him and have the Ackerly carriage brought around. He smiled inwardly. He wondered what the ton would make of the powerful Earl of Huntwick meekly following the orders of a small, angry girl from the country.

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    T he Ackerly carriage careened into the drive and pulled up in front of the house, spewing gravel in its wake. It halted with an abrupt jerk just as Trevor stepped out of Sebastian’s coach and started up the steps to the door. Trevor stopped, watching with interest as Grace hurtled out of the vehicle and ran past him up the stone steps without sparing so much as a glance in his direction. She burst through the front door and slammed it closed behind her with a loud bang, showing little concern for the fragile panes of expensive glass in the windows to either side. Trevor shrugged, shook his head with an inward smile, and looked back at the carriage. He watched as an older gentleman, whose face he remembered from the portrait room, stepped down from the carriage and extended a hand to assist the two ladies inside. Fully expecting to see two more Mercy look-alikes emerge from the dim confines of the small carriage, Trevor noted with surprise the tall, willowy blondes who stepped, one at a time, out onto the cobbled drive. Their faces set in grim worry, the trio hurried inside, followed at a more leisurely pace by Trevor, who already knew that they would most likely find Mercy sitting up in bed, cheerfully recounting the accident that had brought the two strangers into their home.
    When he stepped inside, Trevor noticed Bingham Ackerly standing at the foot of the stairs, deep in conversation with Sebastian. Not wanting to interrupt, Trevor politely gave the two men a wide berth and instead went back into the portrait room in search of some refreshment. Finding the room empty, he helped himself to a glass of brandy. He smiled with wicked intent at the portrait of Grace on the wall above the piano as he poured. The young lady had proven far more interesting than he had even begun to imagine when he had first seen her portrait. He recalled her spirited fury at the Assembly Rooms when he had told her what had happened to Mercy. Giving her likeness a last, lingering look, he sauntered back to the open doorway and leaned a shoulder against the frame to wait for Sebastian to conclude his conversation.
    Grace appeared at the top of the curving staircase. She still wore the dress she had worn to the dance, a simply cut high-necked gown of shimmering emerald silk. A wide ribbon collar of forest green velvet encircled her slender throat, then ran vertically down the front of the gown to border the hem in broad, sweeping scallops. Cut to loosely skim the contours of her body, the dress really had no waistline at all, only small darts to lightly cinch it in, giving one a subtle impression of the slender curves that lay hidden beneath. She wore no jewelry at all, and styled her bright hair in a simple loose knot at the crown. Several wayward strands had escaped to curl around her face and shoulders, dramatically softening what would have been a rather severe hairstyle on such a small girl into one that both flattered and allured. The tips of dark green velvet slippers peeped from beneath the hem as she gracefully held up her skirts to keep from tripping as she made her poised descent. Recalling the unladylike way she had rushed from the carriage into the house, Trevor grinned atthe complete transformation she had undergone in the past fifteen minutes.
    She stopped at the foot of the stairs for a moment, curtsied to Sebastian, then spoke quietly with her father, informing him of Mercy’s condition and prognosis. She felt Trevor watching her as he lounged in the doorway across the room, and glanced toward him. She fought the sudden inexplicable urge to lift her skirts, turn her back on the smirking earl, and sprint back up the stairs to the safety of her bedchamber. But