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charade, and have her become his mistress in every sense of the word?
    It was that thought that brought her to her senses. She pushed at his chest and stepped away from him. Her hand touched her mouth, and she frowned.
    “What the devil do you think you’re doing?”
    He grinned, completely unaffected by her anger and their kiss, though she still shook on the inside. “Now you will not look so untouched by me. We need to appear as if we’ve been intimate. That kiss will make it easier.” He turned as if to leave. “Shall we? We have a ways to drive to get to the Foxtail Estates.”
    “That’s a ridiculous name for a home.” She said nothing else as they made their way to the carriage and she crawled inside the plush space.
    “You didn’t appear to be quite so offended when you were in my arms,” he said once the carriage lurched forward.
    “I told you I knew how to play the part.” Let him believe she was pretending just as he was. Let him believe that she cared not a whit about him. She couldn’t very well admit to the truth of the matter, that his mere nearness had her so flustered she could scarcely breathe.
    “Indeed,” he said.
    But she could tell from his tone he didn’t quite believe her.
    It mattered not. Kissing Remy would not happen again. Having to work closely with him would be a challenge alone without further complicating things with her unwanted awareness of him.
    Besides, his kiss had made his point; she needed to make certain she appeared the way any other mistress would. She’d been around men enough to know how to behave accordingly. But damned if that wouldn’t take all her energy, and then she might not be able to focus on the investigation. As soon as they found that journal and solved Comfry’s murder, she could go back to simply being Emma Masterson, perhaps get another assignment as a governess, and stop wearing dresses that made her feel as if her bosom was completely bared.

Chapter Four
    Remy was thankful for the darkened carriage. He didn’t want Emma to see how much the kiss had affected him as well. He’d kissed her for one reason only: to startle her out of her prim and proper facade, to cut to the woman beneath all the propriety. He hadn’t anticipated enjoying the feel of her against him so much. He’d thought his desire for her long since dead, yet his blood still hummed with lust.
    No, that wasn’t the truth at all. He’d kissed her for no other reason than because he wanted to. Had wanted to for years. He’d wanted to remember what her lips felt like. And his response didn’t surprise him; he wanted her, plain and simple. But there was nothing plain and simple about his relationship with Emma. So he had to keep his mind on what their purpose was. Tonight they were going to a party at a nearby estate, and then they would sneak into Pennington Hall to search for the journal. But before they arrived at either place, he had to keep his mind on the investigation and not the fact that he wanted nothing more than to pull Emma across the carriage and into his lap where he would continue to kiss her until she begged him to take her. He wanted her panting, shouting his name.
    “Once we arrive at Foxtail Manor, you’ll need to begin acting the part of my mistress. We’ll be sharing a bedchamber for our stay there.”
    “I’m certain you’ll be comfortable on the floor,” she said tartly.
    He wasn’t so certain he’d need to be on the floor. “Are you absolutely positive you’re up to the task of pretending to be my mistress?”
    “I suppose that all depends. Are your mistresses usually left feeling cold and bored by your company?”
    “Quite the contrary.” He could argue with her, tease her, but he wouldn’t discuss other women with her. He’d had other mistresses, but at the moment, he couldn’t remember much about them but their names.
    One delicate brow rose and her head quirked to the side. “You were saying?”
    He looked at her, willing her to stop