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and tugged on the cord. “Now, my dear Miss Burnley, with your permission I should like to visit my grandchild.” An exultant expression suffused the older woman’s features. “I have been waiting a very long time for this day to arrive.”
    The door to the sitting room quietly opened and Tolliver stepped in. Lady Stanton swung around to face him.
    â€œTolliver,” she exclaimed in a commanding voice, “my carriage. Immediately!”

Chapter Three
    Meredith sat bolt upright in the elegant, burgundy-colored landau, trying to ignore the assault on her senses as the carriage threaded its way along the busy street. The midday chaos that surrounded them gave her a headache—an unwelcome distraction as she struggled to compose her turbulent emotions. Much to her surprise, she hated London. The noise, the dust and dirt, the myriad of smells that to her were mostly unpleasant, made every trip from their small set of rooms an experience to be endured rather than enjoyed.
    Her sister’s reaction to the city had been completely the opposite. Annabel reveled in the events that, to her, seemed an adventure rather than an escape. The girl was more animated and healthier than Meredith had seen her in months.
    Annabel had eagerly accompanied her on the few errands that had been necessary since their unexpected arrival four days ago on the doorstep of Miss Noyes, their former governess. Meredith, unfortunately, struggled to contain her fears every time they left the sanctuary of the house. She constantly looked over her shoulder, expecting any minute that Uncle Isaac would track them down and drag them back to Swallow Hill.
    Closing her eyes on the bustle surrounding the carriage, she recalled their flight from the only home they had ever known. Meredith still couldn’t believe they had managed to do it. Annabel had displayed real fortitude and unexpected physical endurance. With the assistance of Creed and their old coachman, John Ruddle, they had slipped away to catch the night mail from the neighboring town of Cross Keys. Ruddle had stayed with them, refusing to leave his young mistresses unprotected. Meredith’s concern for the old family retainer was just one of the many worries that haunted her sleepless nights.
    But now she found herself ensconced in the Stantons’ luxurious town carriage, which smoothly conveyed them through the city to the modest but genteel neighborhood of Hans Town. Meredith sat opposite Lady Stanton, who maintained an entertaining flow of chatter as she pointed out the various landmarks that might interest a newcomer to London. Young Robert Stanton trotted beside them on a beautiful bay mare.
    And sitting next to his aunt, taking up far more space than Meredith liked, was the Marquess of Silverton.
    After coming downstairs from her ladyship’s sitting room, Meredith had inwardly groaned when she saw Lord Silverton exit the library, pulling on his gloves as he watched her through narrowed eyes. He had handed Lady Stanton into the landau and then turned with a cool smile to assist her. Meredith had blushed hotly and dropped her eyes, silently berating herself all the while for acting like a foolish schoolgirl.
    Now Lord Silverton lounged at his ease next to his aunt, his golden hair curling out from under the brim of his rakishly tilted hat. His eyes gleamed with obvious interest as he studied her. Meredith found it extremely annoying that he inspected her so carefully, almost as if she were some exotic species of insect under glass.
    She stole a peek at him from under her lashes, deciding that Silverton reminded her of a cat. A giant, golden cat—sleek, contained, and supremely self-confident. She even wondered for a moment if he was going to purr at her.
    She suddenly realized that Lady Stanton looked quizzical, waiting for her to respond to a question she had just asked her. Dragging her mind away from the glorious and altogether disconcerting male animal