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Musgrove shook her head in obvious disapproval, muttering beneath her breath as they continued the tour. They parted company, and Melanie went upstairs to rest until luncheon. As she was going by the study which her father had claimed as his own, she thought she'd stop and wish him good morning. The door was standing slightly open, and without thinking she pushed it open and walked in. Mr. Davies was standing by the desk, and when he sensed her presence he whirled around to face her.
    "Good morning, my lady, was there something you wanted?" Drew asked, silently cursing her untimely arrival. He knew he had taken a risk searching the earl's desk, but it was a chance he had felt compelled to take. If the blasted chit hadn't interrupted him, he might have gotten a peek at the contents of the sealed envelope he had found in the top drawer; now it would have to wait.
    "No, I was just looking for my father," Melanie said, wondering what he was doing in her father's study. At home, Fulford would never have gone into a room unless summoned. Then she remembered that this was the Duke of Marchfield's home, and that as his employee, Davies was well within the bounds of propriety to keep an eye on things.
    "He and Mr. Barrymore are in the library, Lady Melanie," Drew said, skillfully guiding her from the room. "Was there some message you wished to give him? If so, I would be happy to have a footman deliver it for you."
    "No, thank you, Davies," she said, unconsciously noting his height and the breadth of his shoulders as she walked beside him. She wondered suddenly if he had ever served in the army, for there was something in the proud way he carried himself thatput her in mind of the soldiers that she had met during her travels.
    "Did you enjoy your tour of the house, my lady? I trust Mrs. Musgrove answered all your questions?" Drew asked, wishing Halvey had spent more time instructing him in the correct method of discoursing with one's employers. He wasn't even sure if it was proper for him to engage her in conversation, but neither was he certain he could simply walk away without a word.
    "Oh, yes, it is a lovely home. You and the staff are to be commended," Melanie said, not seeming to notice his discomfiture. "And Mrs. Musgrove is an exceptional household manager, although I fear I may have given her sensibilities a bit of a shock."
    This was hardly the sort of conversation he imagined he should be having, but he was at a loss as to what he should do. He tried imagining how Halvey would respond to the little minx's sally, and immediately one of his dark brown eyebrows rose in haughty inquiry. "Indeed?"
    Melanie nodded her head and launched into a quick recitation of what she had already told Mrs. Musgrove. "So you see," she concluded with a laugh, "there was nothing else to be done. The poor woman shrieked at the very notion of a doctor attending her. And once I had actually observed one practicing his art, my sympathies were entirely with her. I know
I
wouldn't want one of them treating me!"
    "Yes," Drew agreed, momentarily lost in thought, "the hakims are quite useless, and usually so superstitious that the cures they offer are worse than the disease."
    "That is so. I recall once one of our servants was quite ill, and I—" She broke off suddenly, her violeteyes wide as she stared at him. "How did you know that?"
    "Know what, my lady?"
    "That in Egypt physicians are sometimes called hakims," Melanie answered, recalling her earlier speculations about him. She cocked her head to one side, regarding him with interest. "Have you ever been in Egypt, Davies?"
    Drew could cheerfully have bitten off his own tongue, but having spoken the word, he could see no way of recalling it without making Lady Melanie even more suspicious than she already was. Thinking quickly, he allowed a faintly disappointed look to cross his face. "No, my lady, I have never been out of England, unfortunately. It was my cousin, Richard, who had the honor of visiting