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the downstairs hallway. Hm. Perhaps she wasn’t quite as predictable as he’d thought. That made her an exception among females. So far. “These were for the most part administrative offices. This used to be an army bar—”
    “Barracks for George the Second’s Coldstream Guards,” she finished. “What do you use them for now?”
    “You’ve done some research,” he said grudgingly.
    “Surprised?” she asked coolly.
    And becoming more so by the moment . “I’ll let you know.” He returned his attention to the long corridor. “The orphanage uses the rooms for storing old furniture and for the odd accountant.”
    Nodding, she made a note of some sort on the top page of the stack of papers she cradled in her left arm. “How many offices are there?” she asked. “And how large are they?”
    So now the timid Miss Ruddick was all business. He gazed at her profile. “As for quantity, about a dozen. Size, I don’t know. Let’s go inside one and explore, why don’t we?”
    She swallowed, looking up from her scribbling. “I…don’t think that’s necessary. I don’t have anything with which to measure, anyway.”
    “Ah.” And now she became the timid virgin once more. “Would you care to go to the music or drawing room, then? Or perhaps the ballroom. You would find that more pleasant, I’m sure.”
    Evelyn stopped so abruptly that Saint had to turn around to face her. For a long moment she glared at him. Women didn’t do that very often, and he had to admire it for that reason. In a moment, though, she would no doubt begin crying, and he detested that.
    “Let me make something clear,” she said, her voice quavering a little, as it had when she’d accepted his invitation to waltz. “I am not afraid of seeing something unpleasant. I couldn’t very well do anything helpful for an establishment that didn’t require any assistance. What I don’t want is for this venture to ruin my reputation. Being escorted by you is a risk in itself, but at least in the hallway we have witnesses. Going into a storage room with you would be both stupid and useless on my part.”
    He took a slow step back in her direction. “It might be stupid,” he murmured, “but it wouldn’t be useless. I could teach you a great many things. Isn’t that why you’re here? To learn?”
    Color flooded her cheeks. Saint studied her expression, her stance, the language of her slender, petite body. Despite his experience with women, he wasn’t all that familiar with virgins. He’d made it a point not to be; their clinging hysterics complicated things far too much.
    This one, though, made him curious.
    She turned on her heel. “Good day, my lord.”
    “Giving up already?” he asked, forcing himself not to stalk after her. He wasn’t finished with her yet, but neither would he allow her even the momentary advantage an apology would give her. That wasn’t how he played the game.
    “I am not giving up. I’ll continue the tour with Mrs. Natham. At least she won’t attempt to seduce me in the broom closet.”
    Apparently she’d heard the rumor about himself and Lady Hampstead. Nearly everyone had. “Continue with me. I promised you a tour, and you shall have one.”
    Evelyn faced him again, the stack of papers she carried clenched so tightly that the edges curled. “A tour of the orphanage, my lord. Not of your…private parts.”
    “Agreed—for today.”
    She assessed that statement, then turned to the nearest closed door. “Storage?”
    “Yes.”
    Disliking the idea that she might yet change her mind and scurry off, Saint kept his distance as she opened thedoor and stepped inside. A moment later she reemerged to scribble further notations in her book. “Are they all the same size?”
    Saint stirred, beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable as she continued to make notes. Good God, an innocent chit asking innocent questions and attending to an innocent task, and he was going hard. “Relatively.”
    “Excellent. Shall we