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interrupted him. He turned to see the housekeeper enter the room with a tray of tea things. Mrs. Shute glowered at him, letting him know in silent but no uncertain terms that she had overheard the heated discussion.
    “Thank you, Mrs. Shute,” Lucinda said smoothly, just as though she were not thoroughly annoyed with her visitor. “You may leave the tray on the table. I’ll pour.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    With another disapproving look at Caleb, the housekeeper departed, closing the door quietly.
    His language really had been quite appalling. It was true that he had never been known for his drawing room manners. He had little patience with social niceties. But he was generally not so lost to propriety that he cursed in the presence of females of any station or background.
    Lucinda rose and went to sit on the sofa. She picked up the teapot.
    “Milk and sugar, sir?” she asked, poised and composed, just as if there had been no argument. Her cheeks were somewhat flushed, however, and there was a militant sparkle in her eyes.
    When all else fails, pour a cup of tea, he thought.
    “Neither, thank you,” he said, his voice still a little gruff.
    He tried to analyze the new, bright intensity that emanated from Lucinda. She was not precisely glowing, but she seemed a little more energized.
    “You may as well sit down again,” she said. “We still have a great deal to talk about.”
    “I’m amazed that you wish to engage my services given my language.”
    “It is not as though I am in a position to ask you to leave, sir.” She poured tea with a graceful hand. “Your services are unique and I find myself in need of them.” She set the pot down. “So it appears that I am stuck with you.”
    He felt the edge of his mouth start to curve in spite of his mood. He took the cup and saucer and sat down in an armchair.
    “And I, Miss Bromley, appear to be stuck with you,” he said.
    “Hardly, sir. You are quite free to decline my request for your investigative services. We both know that you do not need the exorbitant fees that I’m certain you intend to charge me.”
    “I could certainly walk away from the money,” he agreed. “But not from this case.”
    Her cup paused halfway to her lips. Her eyes widened. “But I have not yet told you what it is that I wish you to investigate.”
    “It does not matter. The case is not what interests me, Miss Bromley.” He swallowed some of the tea and lowered the cup. “You do.”
    She did not move. “What on earth are you talking about?”
    “You are a most unusual female, as I’m sure you’re well aware. I have never met anyone quite like you. I find you—” He broke off, searching for the right word. “Interesting.” Fascinating would have been closer to the truth. “Therefore, I expect that your mystery will prove equally stimulating.”
    “I see.” She did not appear pleased, nor did she seem insulted. If anything she looked resigned; perhaps a little disappointed although she hid the reaction well. “Given your odd choice of a career, I suppose it makes sense.”
    He did not like the sound of that. “In what way?”
    “You are a gentleman who is attracted to puzzles.” She set her cup down very carefully on the saucer. “At the moment, I am something of a mystery to you because I do not conform to the model of female behavior that is generally held to be acceptable by society. Therefore you are curious about me.”
    “It is not that,” he said, irritated. He paused, aware that she was correct, in a manner of speaking. She was a mystery to him; one he felt compelled to explore. “Not exactly.”
    “Yes, it is exactly that,” she countered. “But you are drinking the tea that I just poured for you, so I will not hold it against you.”
    “What the devil are you talking about?”
    She gave him another cool smile. “Very few gentlemen have the courage to drink tea with me, Mr. Jones.”
    “I cannot imagine why any man would hesitate.” He smiled