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few spurious coins and their accompanying dies hidden in the bottom of a teapot had led to her present despair. Why hadn’t she kept silent and disposed of her find? Better yet, why couldn’t the intruder have found the teapot? She had been worrying the entire time since the discovery, whether to mention it to Roderick or simply dispose of the items. Up until the last second when she stood before the silversmith shop, her feelings had vacillated. If she had thought the situation through, or waited a few days, she would have considered the possibility that Roderick had known about the contents of the teapot all along. If only the right person had received the right teapot.
    She slowed her pace and squinted across the street at the sign promoting the Rose and Thorn Tavern. If she were a man, she’d march right inside and have a pint or two, or three or four—if she were a man and happened to like ale. Instead, she’d return home and settle for tea and sweets—lots of sweets. Images of Hannah’s honey-coated pastry puffs came to mind, and she smiled at herself. It was a small comfort under the circumstances, and by no means a remedy to the situation.
    The only bright spot in all of this was that her father was alive. She had to believe that Roderick was telling the truth. It was all she had to hope for, and with that hope, she shoved aside her fear of being left alone.
    A short time later, she trudged the last few steps up the stairs inside her town house. “Hannah. I’m home,” she called for her governess.
    “I hear ye, Bethy,” she answered and immediately appeared before her. “Ye were gone long. ‘Tis almost noon.”
    “I stopped at Four Courts before I went to the silversmith to tell everyone father was indisposed for a while— that he was ill and could have no visitors. Until notified otherwise, I also suggested his paperwork be held, especially any requiring a signature.”
    “Glad ye thought about it. People would question and make demands.” She glanced at Elizabeth’s empty hands. “Where’s the teapot?”
    “They hadn’t repaired ours yet, but Roderick appreciated my returning the incorrect one.” It was only a partial lie she told this woman who was like a mother to her.
    “I see. I thought he said it was ready the other day. When do they expect to have it repaired?”
    “Don’t worry over it. Any news regarding my father?” Elizabeth asked though she knew better.
    “Nay, child, but don’t give up hope.”
    “I won’t,” she answered. She gave Hannah a weak smile and continued. “Let’s have some sweets in the parlor.”
    Hannah stood with her hands on her hips. “If I ate all the sweets you did, I’d need two more legs to carry me.”
    Elizabeth laughed.
    Hannah said, “I’ll return directly to sit with ye, child.”
    “Thank you, Hannah,” she answered and smiled at the woman’s retreating back. Child. She called her a child despite her far from being one, at six-and-twenty.
    She removed her cloak, tossed her muff and shoes aside, and collapsed into a wing chair in the parlor. Ah, this was better. After a few of Hannah’s pastry puffs, she was certain she’d come to a positive decision concerning her predicament.
    A tap sounded on the door, interrupting her musings. Hannah was too far away to hear, so she decided to answer it. To her surprise, Christian Traynor stood before her.
    She gazed into his amber-colored eyes. God in heaven, was it possible for the man to become more handsome? Still, the last person she wanted to see was Adam’s brother—a man she decided she disliked. When she attempted to slam the door in his face, he stuck his foot out to stop her.
    “Go away,” she ordered. “I told you yesterday that I’ve seen enough of you Traynors.” She leaned hard with her shoulder and hip to shut the door on him.
    He pushed harder. “But I have not seen enough of you,” he said and nudged his way inside the entryway. He stood less than an arm’s length before