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don’t care about insects, except to consider how they may best be exterminated.”
    Lottie heaved a theatrical sigh, as if vexed by his lack of interest in the subject. “All right, then. I will refrain from describing the many varieties of aquatic beetle we have here.”
    “Thank you,” came his fervent reply. “Here, allow me to help you over that oak—”
    “No need.”
    Lottie hopped onto the fallen trunk and walked along the gnarled surface, showing off her physical coordination with no trace of modesty. When her efforts were greeted with silence, she glanced over her shoulder and discovered Sydney walking right behind her, his footing as sure and easy as a cat’s. A startled laugh escaped her as she made her way tothe end of the trunk. “You are quite agile for a gentleman of your size.”
    Lord Sydney let the comment pass, his mouth twisting to indicate that his agility was of no consequence. “Why did you become a lady’s companion?” he asked as Lottie jumped to the ground, her feet rustling through the brittle layer of leaves. He followed her, landing in the same spot she had. Curiously, he did not make nearly as much noise as she had, despite the fact that he was easily twice her weight.
    Lottie chose her words with great care. She disliked talking about her past—not only was it dangerous but the subject filled her with melancholy. “My family is poor. There was no other choice for me.”
    “You could have married.”
    “I’ve never met anyone that I wanted to marry.”
    “Not even Lord Westcliff?”
    “Lord Westcliff?” she repeated in surprise. “Why would I have designs on him?”
    “He’s wealthy and titled, and you’ve resided beneath his roof for two years,” came Sydney’s sardonic reply. “Why wouldn’t you?”
    Lottie frowned thoughtfully. It wasn’t as if the earl was unappealing—quite the opposite, in fact. Westcliff was an attractive man who shouldered his responsibilities and considered it unmanly to complain about them. In addition to his own strict morality, Lord Westcliff possessed a dry wit and a carefully concealed sense of compassion, and as Lottie had discreetly observed, he employed his courteousmanners as skillfully as a weapon. Women were drawn to him, although Lottie was not one of them. She sensed that she did not have the key to unlock his innate reserve…nor had she ever been tempted to trust him with the reason for her uncompromising solitude.
    “Naturally a man of Westcliff’s position would never entertain that kind of interest in a lady’s companion,” she said in reply to Lord Sydney’s question. “But even if we were on the same social footing, I am certain that the earl would never regard me in that way, nor I him. Our relationship—if one could call it that—does not possess that particular…” She paused, searching for an appropriate word. “Alchemy.”
    The word hovered gently in the air, dispelled only by the sound of Sydney’s quiet voice.
    “Surely alchemy pales in comparison to the safety that he could offer you.”
    Safety. The thing she wanted most, and could never have. Lottie stopped and stared into his dark face. “What makes you think that I am in need of safety?”
    “You’re alone. A woman needs someone to protect her.”
    “Oh, I have no need of protection. I have a very pleasant life at Stony Cross Park. Lady Westcliff is quite kind, and I want for nothing.”
    “Lady Westcliff won’t live forever,” Sydney pointed out. Although his words were blunt, his expressionwas strangely understanding. “What will you do after she is gone?”
    The question caught Lottie by surprise. No one ever asked her such things. Perturbed, she took her time about replying. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I suppose I never let myself think about the future.”
    Sydney’s gaze was riveted on her, his eyes an almost unnatural shade of blue. “Neither do I.”
    Lottie didn’t know what to make of her companion. It had been