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five-and-twenty, after all. And the sort of lecherous rake Mrs. Stone is describing does tend to go for young innocents."
    "As opposed to old innocents such as myself," Harriet murmured. She ignored Felicity's teasing grin. "Ah, well, I suppose you are correct, Aunt Effie. I am hardly in danger of being ravished by St. Justin." She paused. "I seem to recall telling him as much earlier."
    "What on earth?" Aunt Effie stared at her.
    "Never mind, Aunt Effie." Harriet started toward the open door of the study. "I am certain Felicity will keep her head and anything else that is of any importance to her should she happen to find herself in the company of Viscount St. Justin. She is no fool. Now if you will excuse me, I must finish some work."
    Harriet made herself walk sedately into her small refuge and calmly close the door. Then, with a heartfelt groan, she sank into her chair, propped her elbows on the desk, and dropped her head into her hands. A deep shudder wracked her body.
    It was not Felicity who was the fool, she decided grimly. It was she, Harriet, who had been the foolish one. She had summoned the Beast of Blackthorne Hall back to Upper Biddleton.
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    Chapter Three
    « ^ »
    The thick gray fog that had rolled in from the sea during the night still clung tenaciously to the shore at ten o'clock the next morning. Harriet could not see more than a few feet in front of her as she made her way down the cliff path to the beach. She wondered if Gideon would keep the appointment she had set up for them to view the thieves' cavern.
    Harriet also wondered uneasily if she truly wanted him to keep the appointment. She had lain awake most of the night worrying that she had made a dreadful mistake in sending the fateful letter to the notorious viscount.
    Her sturdy leather half boots skidded on some pebbles as she hurried down the steep path. Harriet took a firmer grip on her small bag of tools and reached out with her free hand to balance herself against a boulder.
    The path down the cliffs was safe enough if one was familiar with it, but there were some tricky patches. Harriet wished she could wear breeches when she went out to hunt fossils, but she knew Aunt Effie would collapse in shock if the notion was even casually put forth. Harriet tried to humor her aunt insofar as it was possible.
    She knew Aunt Effie was opposed to the whole matter of fossil hunting in the first place. Effie considered it an unseemly occupation for a young woman and could not comprehend why Harriet was so passionately devoted to her interest. Harriet did not want to alarm the older woman any further by pursuing her fossils in a pair of breeches.
    Heavy tendrils of mist coiled around Harriet as she reached the bottom of the path and paused to adjust the weight of the bag she carried. She could hear the waves lapping at the shore, but she could not see them in the dense fog. The damp chill seeped through the heavy wool of her shabby dark brown pelisse.
    Even if Gideon did put in an appearance this morning, he probably would not be able to find her in this fog, Harriet thought. She turned and started along the beach at the base of the cliffs. The tide was out, but the sand was still damp. When the tide was in, there was no beach visible along this stretch at all. The seawaters lapped against the cliffs at high tide, flooding the lower caves and passageways.
    Once or twice Harriet had made the mistake of lingering too long in her explorations inside the caves and had very nearly been trapped by the incoming tide. Memories of those occasions still haunted her and caused her to time her trips into the caverns with great care.
    She walked slowly along the base of the cliffs, searching for footprints in the sand. If Gideon had come this way a few minutes ahead of her she would surely be able to distinguish the imprint his huge boots would leave. Again she questioned the wisdom of what she had done.
    In summoning Gideon back to Upper Biddleton she had obviously