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thought about why or how, until now. Until Josie
     and her insatiable curiosity.
    Deverell shook his head. She would be disappointed. He had no answers to far-reaching metaphysical questions on the meaning
     of life. How soon would she realize that she had made a bad bargain? Surely he knew something she would find interesting.
     He could stretch out his small store of facts. Requiring Josie to ask specific questions would delay the inevitable, as would
     limiting their time together. Unexpectedly, the latter held little appeal.
    Waiting for a desirable dinner partner made him feel like an eager young buck, and he had not experienced anticipation in
     many years.That wasn’t good.This wasn’t a social event, and he certainly was not a young man. He had best remember that, regardless
     of how she made him feel.
    He materialized when Josie appeared at the top of the grand stairway, and he quickly realized that his resolution to limit
     their time together would be easier made than kept. He’d known that the fashions of his time would suit her petite figure
     and gamine, impish haircut. The blue of her dress accented her eyes and complimented her auburn curls. She was an original.At
     least that’s what they’d called a singularly beautiful woman when he was alive.
    Suddenly Deverell felt the weight of his years, his eternal burden. He could damn the curse of his existence, but he would
     never let Josie know the agony she caused him.
    “Don’t look at your feet,” he growled up at her, his voice louder than he’d intended.
    Josie let out a squeak of surprise and, missing a step, tripped on the hem of her gown. She grabbed for the banister, but
     her beaded reticule caught in the fringe of her shawl, shortening her reach. She couldn’t grasp the railing.
    Josie had only a vision of herself landing in an undignified heap on the marble floor. There went her plan of making it through
     the evening with cool scientific detachment. Dropping her fan, she twisted her body and groped for the banister with her right
     hand. She windmilled her other arm in the air as she tried to regain her balance and free herself from the demonic shawl that
     had gained a life of its own. She heard a woman scream, but she didn’t know whether it was she herself or Amelia.
    Suddenly she felt strong hands on her waist, lifting her back to the top step. She looked downstairs, but Deverell had disappeared.
     The servants rushed out of the dining room.Amelia quickly made up a story about a furry rodent to cover the shriek, but Josie
     paid little attention. She sensed Deverell’s presence beside her.
    “You’re welcome,” he whispered in her ear.
    His deep husky voice sent a tremor down her spine.
    “Don’t do that,” she hissed from behind the cover of her hand.
    “Don’t what? Don’t rescue you from falling?”
    She dismissed her racing heartbeat as the aftereffect of fear. He’d scared her, nearly killed her, and now, he was trying
     to make her feel guilty for not being grateful.
    “I heard a man,”Vivian said from the bottom of the stairway. She planted her fists on her ample hips. “He yelled, Don’t cook a poor meat . I heard it clearly.” She peered around the foyer, as if someone might be hiding in the suit of armor or preparing to jump
     out of the large Chinese urn.
    Amelia managed a lilting laugh that sounded only slightly forced. “You must be mistaken,” she said as she descended the stairs
     with regal grace.
    “Why would anyone say something so silly?”
    “I know what I heard,”Vivian said, raising her chin to a mutinous angle.
    “If you’ve been nipping at the sherry...” Amelia let the implied warning linger in the tense air.
    Vivian drew a deep breath as if to continue the argument, then merely harrumphed loudly before stomping back to the dining
     room.
    When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Amelia motioned Josie into the library with a conspiratorial air.
    “That was a close one,” the older