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insults somewhere—anywhere—but here. I feel sure once she hears your tender proposal to love, cherish, and protect her money for the rest of your days, the duchess will be beside herself with delight.”
    Dunthorp bit back a curse and stalked out. Archer could hear the other man’s every step as he stormed down the stairs and out the front door.
    Suddenly exhausted, Archer collapsed into the nearest chair and scraped his hands over his face.
    “I never did like Dunthorp overly much,” a voice rang out from the other side of the room. “The nerve of the fellow thinking to just assume an engagement because the duchess was unconscious.”
    Archer was on his feet as soon as the first words emerged from his visitor’s mouth.
    “Con!”
    Seated in the shadows of the drawing room was the Earl of Coniston, a glass of Ormond’s best brandy in one hand and an unlit cigar in the other.
    “It looks as if you need a bit of assistance, my dear fellow.”
    That, thought Archer, was a gross understatement.

 
    Four
    When Perdita awoke again, it was to see faint light through her bedroom window. It was difficult to determine whether it was very early morning or very late afternoon. While she was sleeping someone had removed her clothes and dressed her in a nightgown, and her hair was neatly braided in one long plait down her back. Remembering her maid’s hysterics yesterday—or today, or whenever her accident had happened—she supposed that someone else had been called in to act as maid for her. For a flash she remembered Archer seated on the side of her bed, but though the thought sent a jolt of electricity to her belly, she dismissed it immediately. Not only would he not do something so unseemly, but she suddenly remembered Simmons, the dowager’s maid, had been here. It had likely been she who undressed her.
    Grateful that the only remnant of the horrific headache she’d sustained from her accident was a faint throb, she threw back the covers and padded over to the dressing room to use the chamber pot and wash her face and hands. Feeling much more the thing, she donned a robe and stepped back into her bedchamber and pulled the bell.
    Instead of a maid or footman, however, the knock at her door revealed a remarkably disheveled Archer, his hair sticking up as if he’d been running his fingers through it, and his coat having been abandoned. Closing the door behind him, he stepped forward, and Perdita found herself stepping back until she stopped at the bed.
    “I apologize for invading your bedchamber,” he said, looking sheepish, “but Simmons had to go back to care for the dowager and your own maid is still sedated.”
    “Surely another of the maids could have been assigned to care for me,” Perdita said, her heart beating far more quickly than it should. “Anyone will do.”
    Twin flags of color appeared on his cheeks. “That is true enough,” he agreed, looking at the floor. “I just … that is to say … I wanted to see you.”
    Her legs suddenly giving out from beneath her, Perdita sat down on the edge of the bed. “Oh.”
    He thrust a hand through his hair. “I was just worried about you, and I didn’t trust another one of the maids to look after you given what happened in the park this morning.” His expression turned fierce then. “In fact, I don’t know that I trust anyone to look after you at this point but myself. And Trevor, Con, or their wives.”
    Her heart was beating faster now, but for another reason. “Surely you don’t think one of the servants would do something to harm me,” she said quickly, thinking about the older members of the staff who had been with Ormond House since the dowager had married the old duke. “I mean, I know what happened to Isabella, but her maid was newly hired. These servants have been here for years.”
    “And might just as easily be convinced to harm you as a new servant, I’m afraid,” Archer said, his blue eyes serious. “Or maybe someone who holds you