Whispers dragged her from sleep. Still pleasantly weighted down by the effects of last night’s lovemaking, Amelia was reluctant to move. However, there was a rushed quality to the muted conversation taking place on the other side of the curtains that roused her to full wakefulness.

Why were the curtains around the bed drawn? “Gideon?”

The rapid buzz ceased and Gideon appeared at her side through the opening, holding her grey pelisse. He was already dressed save for his cravat.

“Finally awake! Good,” he exclaimed. “Come, come, I’m starving.”

He threw the pelisse over her nude body.

“What are you doing? Who is out there?” she asked, gesturing beyond the curtain.

“It’s only your maid Carlotta, going about her business.” He pulled her to the edge of the bed, trying to put one of her arms through the sleeve of the garment.

She struggled out of his hold. “Gideon, stop.”

He frowned. “Wouldn’t you rather be covered while we breakfast? Personally, I’d prefer your male servants didn’t get to see you like this, but I’m rather selfish that way.”

Amelia blushed. By now, the entire household staff must be aware of her overnight guest.

As a widow, she had every right to entertain a male like his lordship, but she wasn’t keen on parading him before every footman and chambermaid.

“I think we should stay here and send for a tray.”

“But you have such a lovely morning room!” he protested. “Wouldn’t you like to eat there instead?”

Not content to wait for an affirmative answer, he tugged her out of bed with an eager air, ushering her to the bedroom door in only her pelisse.

“At least let me get dressed!”

If he was so concerned about modesty, then he could bloody well wait till Carlotta was free to help her don a proper morning gown. She pulled away from him, intent on asking her maid for assistance.

“Amelia, wait!”

But it was too late. In a few steps, she could see Carlotta on her hands and knees on the floor at the foot of the bed. Tears were streaming down her maid’s cheeks as she scrubbed at an enormous blood stain on the carpet.

Amelia’s breath stuttered to a stop.

“I—I left the window open,” Gideon broke in, rushing to her side to take her hand. “An injured bird flew in and died. I took it outside. Why don’t we go downstairs while Carlotta cleans in here?”

She put a horrified hand over her mouth before kneeling to take the distraught maid in her arms.

Amelia didn’t believe Gideon for a moment. The stain was too large for any bird or even a small animal. Only a big animal—or a person—could account for its size.

Wrapping her hands tighter, she pulled Carlotta in close enough to whisper in her ear. “Tell me quick, was it a person—a child?” she asked in Italian.

“No, un cane.” Carlotta sobbed.

“Carlotta!” Gideon scolded, hauling both to their feet.

“Don’t yell at her, Gideon. You should have known you could never hide such a thing from me,” she said, holding and comforting the other woman.

It was easier than dealing with the storm of emotion roiling in her breast.

Gideon rubbed his hands roughly over his face. “Of course, I apologize to you both. Carlotta, I’m sorry. Please, help your mistress to get dressed,” he said, giving them a little shove toward her wardrobe.

“Gideon…” she began.

“Do not worry. I’ll take care of this,” he interrupted, waving at the stain. “We’re getting rid of the lot—the entire carpet has to go.”

“That’s not what I was going to say,” she protested as Carlotta rinsed her own hands in the washbasin.

The water turned pink, and Carlotta excused herself with a murmur to empty the basin and refill the pitcher for Amelia’s use.

Gideon waited till Carlotta left the room. “I know, love,” he said softly. “But I think we should put off any discussion until I’m certain the household is secure. Once you’ve dressed, I will have your driver drop you at Lord Worthing’s house. I’m going to ask Clarke to meet you there. He’ll keep watch over you and Carlotta while I deal with an important matter.”

He wanted Carlotta to go as well? “I’m not in the habit of taking my maid to call on Crispin.”

“She’s had a fright. I think it would settle her nerves to accompany you.”

Amelia suspected he was more concerned with having another set of eyes on her than her maid’s sensibilities but didn’t make an issue of it. “Where will you go? What is this important matter?”

Gideon averted his eyes. “I’ll be making a few stops—Bow Street chief among them.”

He stopped, his gaze flickering over the stain and the bed beyond. His head shook a fraction as if he was arguing with himself. “I don’t understand how I could have slept through this,” he muttered.

Gideon turned back to her, putting his arms on her shoulders. “I’m going to hire a few runners to watch the house from the outside. I’ll also enlist their aid to conduct systematic interviews of your staff. One of them must have seen or heard something.”

“You will need Adolfo to translate then. Most of them speak English poorly,” she said as Carlotta came back in.

“A sound plan. I’ll go speak to him now,” he replied before kissing her hard and quitting the room.

Amelia wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the dark stain on her carpet. She pushed it away in her mind.

Gideon is right. The entire carpet needed to be discarded. Carlotta interrupted her reverie with a signal all was in readiness.

Moving mechanically, she performed her ablutions and dressed. Her mind was quiet and strangely detached, as if she was watching everything from a distance.

When Gideon bundled her and Carlotta into her town coach without breakfast, she didn’t complain. Nor did she utter a single word of reproach when he saw her to the door and then hurried away with a promise that Clarke would be joining them shortly. She was too busy formulating a plan.

Crispin was still indisposed when his butler let her into his townhouse.

“Don’t worry Jefferson. I can hardly expect him to come down on a broken leg. I’ll just show myself up.”

Leaving Carlotta to visit with her friends in the kitchen, Amelia went up to the second story. She entered Lord Worthing’s bedroom after a perfunctory knock and stopped short.

Mr. Clarke was sitting on the bed at Crispin’s side. Their heads were close together, and Crispin’s hand was resting over Clarke’s.

Mr. Clarke noticed her first. He broke away, getting to his feet quickly.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Montgomery,” he said before bowing.

Clarke’s formality betrayed his unease. Just yesterday, he’d been very familiar with her, greeting her with a hug and quick pat on the back.

“Err…I suppose you are surprised to see me here,” he said. “After yesterday’s mishap, I decided to call round early to see our patient.”

Our patient?

“How kind of you,” she said. “I did expect you, but not so soon. Gideon sent word to your house asking you to come here.”

Clarke’s expression changed, an alert expression lightening his eyes. “Oh, I see. Then I’ll have a quick word with Lord Worthing’s staff. Gideon’s notes will have been brought round here by my staff.”

He excused himself with another bow.

“Amelia…” Crispin held out his hand. She gave herself a little shake and went to his side, noting his slight blush.

“How are you feeling, dear?” she asked, sitting on the bed.

“Fine, fine,” he said. “Um, about what you just saw…”

Amelia squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry, my friend. There is no need to explain. Martin wouldn’t have wanted you to spend the rest of your days alone either.”

The viscount looked down at his hands and sniffed, his chin dimpling as he fought not to cry. “I will never stop loving Martin. Quite frankly, I am surprised to be feeling this way—and this may not be mutual. I find Mr. Clarke a bit difficult to read.”

She did not share Crispin’s opinion. Clarke’s behavior just now had been telling, but perhaps it was easier for an outside observer to understand it. Plus, I’ve seen someone fall in love with Crispin before…

“I have no doubts,” she assured him. “There is something there.”

Crispin leaned closer. “Do you really think so?”

She nodded. “I do…And I hope you forgive my selfishness, but I will be trading on your recent attachment to achieve the impossible.”

“Hmm.” Crispin leaned back on the pillows. “Does this impossible task involve a certain determined earl?”

“It does, and I will explain every detail once I’ve secured Mr. Clarke’s assistance.”

“Ah, I think I understand,” he said with a sage nod. “Then I suggest you go down and find him straightaway because I want my curiosity satisfied as quickly as possible.”

Amelia hadn’t thought herself capable of a genuine smile this morning, but it came anyway. She excused herself from her friend, buoyed by his manner and unquestioned support.

If Mr. Clarke was surprised by her request for a private conference, he did not betray it in any way. It wasn’t until she’d sat him down in the library that she truly shocked him.

“I received Gideon’s note,” he began, reaching out to pat her gloved hand. “I want you to rest assured that you are well looked after. No harm will come to you while you’re in my care.”

“Thank you, but my life is not in danger. It’s Gideon who will die if you don’t help me.”

Clarke frowned. “Mrs. Montgomery, Amelia, you’ve been through an ordeal. I assure you—”

“Crispin will also die,” she interrupted. “And most likely you as well if you don’t listen to me now.”

She took both his hands in hers and began to explain.