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men have.”
    “Perhaps there was more to it than you think.”
    “I have long suspected that there was.” There had been a few halfhearted attempts to find out, none of them effective. The man was dead, and it felt wrong to muck around his history just to relieve one’s own curiosity or sense of guilt.
    “Do you want me to poke around a little, to see what turns up?” Ambury asked.
    “I do not think so. I will let you know should I decide differently.” It would be better if Ambury and the others did not even learn what he knew already, let alone what might be found with an investigation.
    More drops now. A fine rain drizzled, with heavy clouds promising more. They moved their mounts to a trot. A minute later the sky opened.
    “Hell, here it comes.” Ambury pushed his horse to a canter.
    Their speed did nothing for their sight as they sped for the park’s entrance. Even so, Penthurst noticed the two women running toward a tree for some shelter. A lady and her servant from the looks of it. He glanced to the sky, and doubted that tree would keep them dry for long.
    He turned his horse toward the tree. Ambury noticed and did the same. They reined in only a few moments after the women had ducked under the branches.
    “Lydia!” Ambury said. “It is an odd time to be taking a turn in the park.”
    “It seemed a good idea an hour ago.”
    “I will go tell your coachman to bring the carriage here.”
    The maid plucked off her bonnet and shook it fiercely. “We walked the whole way.” She gave her mistress a resentful glance.
    Lydia did not react to that, least of all to put the servant in her place. Penthurst thought that generous of her. Perhaps she felt some guilt for dragging the woman here on foot.
    He dismounted. “It does not look like it will end soon. We will take you home. You will still get wet, but the misery will be shorter.” He shrugged off his frock coat and swung it around Lydia’s shoulders. While she remained startled by that, he lifted her onto the saddle of his horse.
    Ambury did the same for the servant, who froze into wide-eyed silence.
    He swung himself up behind Lydia. With her feminine legs dangling down the side of his horse, he reached around her for the reins. She stiffened.
    “Forgive me,” he said. “There is nothing else for it.”
    “Of course.”
    “Grab on to something to steady yourself, or I will be obligated to become even more familiar by holding you in place.”
    The sphinx blushed. She clutched at the front of the saddle so hard her knuckles whitened.
    Ambury ducked under the branches and rode off, fast enough that the servant let out a squeal. Lydia did not make a sound as Penthurst followed.

Chapter 4
    L ydia tried not to move in the slightest way, but it proved impossible on a cantering horse. Seated sideways like this, her legs dangling and her rump threatening to slide off, she kept jostling back and forth. The forth did not concern her, since it shifted her body toward the horse’s neck. The back, unfortunately, bumped her up against the formidable chest of the Duke of Penthurst.
    She looked straight ahead and pretended that did not continue with a regular rhythm that mortified her. Why couldn’t Ambury have taken her on his horse? Up ahead all she could see of Sarah were her shoes, swinging to the horse’s gait.
    Bump. Bump
. At least the thick frock coat over her shoulders and arms cushioned her so it did not become too intimate a connection. Penthurst’s shirtsleeves, gleaming white and pure in the rain, circled her rather too closely, however, and there was no thick wool on them.
    The rain poured down. Her escort seemed not to notice as it soaked his hair and those shirtsleeves and the waistcoat a few inches from her nose.
Bump
. A nice waistcoat, she noticed out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head to give it a closer study.
Bump
. Her nose smashed right into brocade the color of claret. Her face squished against the detailed silver embroidery.