Lord Durney studied the list Amelia had copied from Isobel’s letter. His expression was paternalistic and shrewd. “You know most of these volumes are very dear.”

He pointed to a title on the list. “This one alone is quite costly. It’s worth more than my wife’s jewels.”

Amelia smiled politely in the direction of the Lady Durney. The lady’s modest string of pearls was probably paste, but she didn’t dare mention that. “I imagine most genuine occult volumes are expensive, but if the text is on this list, then money is no object. Not for me. If you procure these volumes for me, I am prepared to pay a generous commission. Say twenty percent?”

Durney leaned in closer, a spark of eagerness lighting his eyes briefly before it dimmed. “But that commission alone would be hundreds of pounds on some of these,” he warned, his head bobbing between her and the list.

“As I said, money is of no consequence. Speed is essential. If you can get me those books this week, I’ll be pleased to compensate you for any additional expenses you might incur.”

She put her gloved hand on his wrinkled one. “My dear friend the Contessa Garibaldi specifically recommended you as the man I needed for this task.”

Amelia had given up on receiving any aid from her former governess. Her appeal for advice had been sent weeks ago when she first encountered Gideon again. When she didn’t hear anything, Amelia assumed her letter had been lost. With the recent outbreak of war with France, the mail service abroad had been thoroughly disrupted. But by some miracle, Isobel’s letter had been waiting for her when she returned from Devon.

Amelia felt loved when she read the letter. Isobel was distraught over her predicament. Her former governess had expressed regret at being unable to come to her because of the perils of traveling in wartime. Nevertheless, Isobel managed to convey in a few simple words her concern and affection for her former charge.

More importantly, Isobel had practical advice to offer—just as Amelia had hoped. It contained an extensive list of books and several names.

Lord Durney had been at the top of the list. A brief inquiry via her solicitor revealed him to be an aficionado of rare and antique books. Isobel had also sent the names of a handful of other collectors, as well as an apothecary and another of a midwife.

Amelia wasn’t certain how the latter was supposed to help with her current predicament, but at least she had a place to start her inquiries into the supernatural.

Durney pulled his collar away from his neck. He was blushing. “The Contessa is generous with her praise. She’s a discerning collector. But while I’m familiar with most of these volumes, I should warn you that most are in private collections much like my own. Some of their owners may not wish to part with them for any price,” he added anxiously.

Disappointment threaded through her. Amelia bit her lip. She had expected this part to be simple. “If they won’t sell, perhaps they would consider letting the volumes.”

“Letting the books?” Gurney guffawed. “These are hardly the type of works one finds in a lending library.” His aristocratic tone was filled with disdain.

For a man of modest means, the old collector was certainly high in the instep, but Amelia didn’t let her annoyance show on her face. The idea of renting out their books might strike some of them as one step too close to being in trade. Amelia knew many in the genteel class would rather starve than stoop so low.

She took Durney’s arm and prodded him to walk with her around the edge of the Trenglove’s ballroom. “They shouldn’t think of it that way,” she said with a dismissive wave. “It would be more like being a patron who lends a work of art for an exhibition. The difference is it won’t be a painting, but a book and the audience will be considerably smaller. Namely myself and possibly a friend.”

“A patron, you say? I hadn’t thought of it in such a light.” Durney puffed up. “Well, I do think some of the collectors involved might be moved to become patrons for your special project. An index of the supernatural is a Herculean task, but with your resources, you are advantageously positioned to make a better than decent start.”

Amelia thanked him, promising to consult him if she had any difficulties understanding the books he had already agreed to part with—something he seemed preoccupied with. She bristled at such condescension but held her tongue. She knew nothing about the occult and Durney was an expert, although strictly in an academic sense.

Though he was only one of half a dozen collectors she had to consult, Amelia felt better than she had in ages. It was good to be doing something rather than wait for the next horror to befall her. She turned the corner, intending to find the exit now that her business was concluded.

The familiar hand that snaked out, pulling her into the dark corner, was so quick she didn’t even have a chance to scream. Not that Gideon gave her a chance. His hand covered her mouth.

Amelia blinked up at him. How had he even found her? Though the Folsom ball was well attended, it wasn’t considered the most fashionable of events. Their hosts were too old to be considered high-flyers, their music and refreshments tired and uninspired.

She didn’t have the opportunity to question Gideon about his spy network. He kept his hand on her mouth and caught her up in his arms. Moving like a cat, he melted deeper into the shadows, abducting her from the ballroom with next to no effort.

There was no hue and cry in their wake. He managed to snatch her from under the ton’s nose without anyone being the wiser. Marveling at his skill and the blindness of the other guests, Amelia waited until he had taken them to a dark and empty sitting room.

“Damn it, Gideon! You can’t just carry me off without so much as a by your leave!”

Gideon’s grip on her arms was firm. “And you can’t seriously believe changing a few locks is going to keep me away from you.”

Amelia shivered involuntarily, but it wasn’t fear she felt. Stop it. She couldn’t afford to be alone with him anymore.

“I have to leave.” She tried to break his hold, but he wouldn’t release her. In fact, he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her until she was crushed against his chest.

His scent enveloped her, and her body reacted predictably. Her breasts swelled, moisture pooling low in her body.

He stroked one of her curls. “Amelia, why are you trying to do this alone?”

“You know why!”

He winced. “As unfortunate as this morning’s incident was—”

“It was more than an incident!”

Gideon held up a hand. “I know. But it changes nothing.”

He lifted her chin, meeting her eyes imploringly. “Amelia, I know you may have some doubts. Someone is trying to intimidate you and last night, I slept through their latest assault. I understand your faith in me might be shaken now, but it’s not a mistake I will make again. I can and will protect you.”

She shook her head. “No, you need to stay away from me. The dead dog wasn’t just intimidation. It was a message—a warning.”

“Amelia…” he began.

She pushed against him, clutching at his waistcoat. “No, you must listen to me. That poor creature died because the monster wants me to know you’re next.”

“Me?” Gideon scowled. “No, my love. You are the one in danger.”

The casual endearment nearly derailed her argument. She cleared her throat and stood her ground.

“If the monster wanted me dead, I would be dead,” she declared firmly. “It has had ample opportunity to do away with me. Nothing occurred the entire year I spent in mourning. It wasn’t until I returned to society that this nightmare began.”

She put her hands on his chest. “Gideon. It doesn’t want to kill me. It wants me to be alone. You’re the one who will die if you continue to associate with me.”

Gideon’s jaw went slack as he followed her reasoning. But then he blinked, stubbornly jutting his chin out. “No. This must be part of Sir Clarence’s plan. He’s trying to force your hand. He wants you to marry Cannonburry. You told me so yourself. I would have confirmation of that now if Sir Clarence was still in town. The minute he returns, I’ll beat the truth from him.”

Amelia wanted to scream in frustration. Though there had been occasions when she wished ill for her authoritarian guardian, she knew Gideon would only be worsening the situation if he stooped to such violence.

“I would sooner marry Cannonburry than let anything happen to you.”

The words were out before she could even think about them. If she’d spared a second to consider Gideon’s reaction, she would have never uttered them.

She couldn’t see much detail beyond the outline of his features in the dim light, but she didn’t need a candle to know how he was reacting. The very air around them heated and seemed to vibrate. Amelia felt as if she had stumbled upon a predator in his lair, possibly a bear.

Holding her breath, she cautiously began to retreat. Gideon’s arm shot out, yanking her against him.

“Don’t even think about such a thing.”

She struggled against his hold. “Damn it, Gideon! Can’t you see I’m trying to save your life? What more do you want from me?”

“Everything. I want everything.”

His lips came down on hers, hard and demanding as his arms wrapped around her, pulling until she was pressed against him, the tips of her breasts rubbing against his chest through the thin cloth of her bodice.

Gideon’s kiss was like a fire blasting through her, burning away her resolve. Her willpower crumbled to dust against the intensity of his desire. She felt almost battered by the force of it, and the almost violent response of her own passion.

Hanging onto the last thread of her resistance, she pushed away. “No—we mustn’t.”

Breath harsh, he tugged her to the left, pinning her against the wall of the salon. “You want me as much as I want you.”

It was a statement of fact, irrefutable. Amelia couldn’t lie to him even as much as she wanted to.

“No one can know,” she decided.

That demand was not well received. His hand slashed the air. “Amelia, you’re nonsensical. We’re about to be married.”

“No, we are not. Not until this is over and we find the person or—or thing—behind all this.”

“Am—”

“Promise me.” She threw herself against him. “No one can know about the two of us until it’s over.”

Despite what he believed, Amelia knew in her heart his life depended on this—and she was not above pleading. She would beg if she had to.

The monster behind this was not all knowing. That would be too much to bear, but there was no evidence that was the case. Whoever was bedeviling her was acting and reacting to what he or she observed.

If Gideon wouldn’t forsake her, then their liaison would have to remain a secret for his protection.

The earl looked up at the ceiling as if asking the heavens for patience. She knew he was marveling over her stubborn attachment to a belief he viewed as an irrational and superstitious conclusion.

“If you don’t promise me, I’ll run off to Gretna Green with Lord Cannonburry, my hand to God.”

Her blasphemy amused him. “Cannonburry can’t run anywhere, love.”

Amelia tugged at the lapels of his tailcoat. Tears threaded through her voice. “Do not laugh at me.”

Gideon instantly sobered. “I will do as you ask on one condition.”

She wiped surreptitiously at one cheek, hoping he hadn’t noticed the tear in the dimness. “What is it?”

“You are not to sacrifice your safety for mine or anyone else’s. No more haring off on your own. Even if the ton believes you to be unattached, you must consent to be guarded day and night, even if you are moving about socially.”

“Gideon, you can’t escort me about town. It would defeat the entire purpose.”

“Then take your maid and footmen when appropriate. If it’s necessary to attend a ball, notify me in advance and I’ll be there as well, or Clarke if it pleases you. Even if I can’t be with you, I can still watch over you from a distance. And you never sleep alone at night. I will be with you if I can help it—otherwise, your maid must sleep in your room.”

This was like arguing with a brick wall. “You know very well you can’t share my bed. Not when the creature enters my room to watch me sleep. And I can’t subject Carlotta to that kind of danger. I’m sending her away, along with most of the staff. If I need help with the household duties, I will hire day servants—only I will sleep there after dark.”

Gideon sighed heavily, but he didn’t acknowledge the wisdom of her plans. “There’s one more thing you must agree to.”

Good God, there was more? “What is it?”

His hand rose to trace the line of her jaw. “Once this perceived danger passes, you will marry me with all haste.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to agree, but she checked herself.

Gideon did not appreciate her hesitation. He leaned over her. “Promise me,” he ordered, throwing back her words at her.

“If the danger has truly passed, then yes, I will marry you.”

She could see his mouth curve just before he kissed her again. This time, she willingly melted into his embrace, grateful for the privacy of this small unused salon.

Amelia expected more of his potently drugging kisses. But suddenly, Gideon bent down on one knee. For a moment, she thought he was going to formally declare for her hand—up until the moment he tossed the hem of her skirt up.

“My lord! What are you doing?”

In fact, what he was up to was obvious. Gideon burrowed under her skirts, parting her legs and throwing one of them over his shoulder.

“Gideon, we are at a ball!”

She shivered as his busy hands ran up her stockings, stroking the bare skin between her garters.

His touch was sure and devilishly possessive. Amelia held on to his shoulders as he pushed her legs further apart to accommodate him. Cotton rent as he ruthlessly tore the slit in her drawers wider, exposing her most secret flesh to him.

Gideon’s hands pinned her against the wall. She couldn’t see his face under her skirts, but she could feel his smile against her before his lips parted. His tongue and fingers rubbed and licked, quickly establishing a rhythm that stole her breath.

Amelia moaned, dark pulsing pleasure rolled through her as little flames licked and bit at her sex. She made one last weak effort to push him away, but it was no more effective than melted candle wax. “Gideon, we must stop.”

His grip tightened. Teeth bit down gently on her straining pearl. Her broken gasp of ecstasy became a moan. Amelia had to focus what little strength she had on remaining upright. Hips pistoning reflexively, she held onto his shoulders as two of his fingers delved inside her. Then the pattern changed. It was as if his fingers were searching for something, but she didn’t know what.

Enlightenment came with a throb of pleasure. Gideon worked a magical little spot while his tongue lathed the pearl at the top of her sex over and over until she convulsed.

Amelia slid down the wall, limp and replete. The only thing she felt—was aware of—were those last throbs of velvet pleasure still echoing through her body.

It was the feel of Gideon’s harsh breath on her cheek that brought her back to herself. She was in his arms, still pinned to the wall but now her legs were wrapped around him. His steely cock was probing, pushing at her swollen folds, demanding entrance.

“Someone will come in,” she whispered, clinging to him. She had to hold on. Without his support, she would have crumpled to the floor.

His mouth pressed to her cheek and he inhaled, drawing her scent deep into his lungs.

“I locked the door.” He took her mouth, his tongue plunging deep at the same time as he found her entrance and began to push inside.

Overwhelmed by his size and strength, Amelia broke off, throwing her head back and gasping as he drove his broad shaft home. She wrapped her arms around him, holding on for dear life as he withdrew and then thrust back home.

Nothing should feel that good. Trembling, Amelia gasped, biting down on his neck.

He laughed, appearing to enjoy her response. “That’s it, love. You can take me now. Take all of me.”

His words—the plaintive desperate note buried deep in his authoritarian demand—stoked the fire higher. She shuddered and pulled him into a deep kiss while he continued to move within her, rocking her into the wall.

Clamping down on him, she fought to hold him tight, fighting him as he pushed in as if to prove her will was a match for his. Gideon groaned and flexed, his grip on her legs and hips tightening. He moved with greater determination, thrusting deeper and faster until he had to move his hand to protect her head from being slammed against the wall.

Pinned helplessly, Amelia accepted his thrusts, crying out when his rhythm stuttered and broke. His hips ground into her one last time, pushing her over the edge into a violent and blinding orgasm. Inside her, he jerked, spilling his seed in hard jets.

This time, it was Gideon who crumpled weakly. He’d poured every bit of his strength and vitality into her. She took it, absorbed it, cradling it and him to her like a precious gift.

Gideon seemed surprised when he came to on the floor. By then, she had rearranged her clothing and repaired her coiffure. Her drawers were a total loss, so she’d stuffed them into her beaded reticule.

“Where are you going?” he asked, lifting his head from the floor when she made for the door.

Amelia stood straight, trying to project a strength of will and determination she did not actually possess.

“Home,” she said firmly. “Don’t follow me. From this moment on, I sleep alone.”

She waited for his acknowledgment and agreement, but neither came. Instead, he just grinned, a flash of white in the darkness. Amelia decided to retreat before he recovered enough to argue with her.

If they did, she would lose and he knew it.

Gideon waited until Sir Clarence was close enough to strangle before striking the match and lighting the taper on the side table.

“Hello, Uncle.”

A red-faced and bleary-eyed Clarence whirled to face him, almost losing his balance in the process. “What? What are you doing here, boy?”

He stumbled to the bed against the wall in the spare, but elegantly appointed room.

Gideon resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose as a waft of stale wine breath hit him. “I’ve been waiting for you. For several weeks, in fact.”

“Eh?” Sir Clarence, obviously relaxed, hiccupped and patted his paunch. “Oh, well…been out of town. I have many business interests. Things to attend to…”

Gideon had to strain to hear those last words. Sir Clarence was slurring. He pushed him onto the bed before the portly man fell over.

Would thrashing a drunk man be a stain on his honor?

“I called on you several times these weeks past, only to be told by the charming Mrs. Spencer that you were away. She didn’t know where. None of your friends knew either. I even sent a man to your Northumberland estate. Imagine my surprise to learn you’ve been sleeping here in your club for the last week, instead of your comfortable townhouse.”

One of the few I don’t happen to be a member of…

“Hmm,” Sir Clarence hummed, his heavy lids drifting down.

Gideon leaned over and yanked out one of his protruding nose hairs. Sir Clarence yelped, sitting up straight.

“As I was saying,” Gideon continued as if there was no interruption. “No one knew where you were. I believe Mrs. Spencer was becoming quite annoyed with me toward the end there.”

Seemingly confused as to what had happened Clarence rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. “S’bit annoyed with me too. Tis why I’m sleeping here.”

Gideon nodded understandingly. The hesitation in the elder’s manner that followed the nose-hair yank dissipated and he slumped again, clearly not recognizing the threat across from him.

Sir Clarence coughed and spat on the floor next to the bed. He stretched. “Um-hum, well, thank you for checking in on me.”

Gideon’s smile grew several degrees colder. “I’m afraid my motive is not so altruistic. I’m actually here to threaten your life, my dear uncle.”

Sir Clarence blinked and cocked his head at him. “Sorry?”

In a snap, Gideon hauled the older man to his feet. “The only reason I don’t kill you where you stand is because you didn’t rape her all those years ago.”

Clarence was sober now. His hands scrabbled against Gideon’s grip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, blinking, then contradicted himself. “Whatever Amelia’s told you—”

“It wasn’t her. Amelia never speaks about her time in your home. I think she prefers to let the past lie.” He lifted Clarence off his toes. “I am not so generous.”

Despite his precarious position, his relative’s bone-deep sense of superiority was undaunted. “I’ve done nothing wrong,” he spat. “I gave that girl a home! I provided for her—a cit’s daughter no less.”

Gideon scoffed. “One worth a fortune. Amelia insists it’s the reason behind this ridiculous attempt to strong-arm her into a marriage with that doddering old fool Cannonburry. But we both know what is really behind it. Is Cannonburry really so desperate for an heir he’ll overlook someone else fathering it?”

Releasing his uncle, Gideon gave him a little push, sending him crashing onto the bed.

“Save your excuses and explanations. I have the whole picture now—save for one piece.” He inhaled and released it slowly. “Did you have anything to do with Martin’s death?”

Clarence’s mouth went slack. He sputtered incoherently, whiskers quivering, before finding his tongue. “How dare you suggest I had anything to do with that! My own son.”

Gideon studied him carefully, drawing on all his knowledge of interrogation and dissimulation. Drunk or no, the indignation was genuine. He bent to meet Clarence’s eyes on the same level.

“Then the mysterious man you hired to terrorize Amelia—the giant who leaves behind clay shards—he’s not the same one who threw Martin down the stairs?”

Sir Clarence blinked at him. “No, that’s not right. My boy fell down the stairs. Tripped on the runner,” he whispered.

Gideon noticed he didn’t deny the charge someone was intimidating Amelia at his behest, but this was confusing. The suggestions that Martin’s death was not an accident elicited a reaction of surprise and shock…perhaps even pain.

Though he could never be called a warm or loving parent, Sir Clarence had some paternal regard for Martin, if only because he was an only child and a son.

Less certain now about his accusations, Gideon continued. “The damage was too great for a simple fall. I spoke to one of the witnesses who heard it happen. Martin’s body was found too far from the bottom of the stairs, too far unless he’d been hurled by someone very strong. This same someone left large and deep impressions in the carpet and traces of brown dust—probably clay.”

His uncle reddened. “You’re lying! There was no dust. It was a simple accident. Trying to imply anything else is disgraceful, a sham.”

Clarence slashed at the air, pointing an accusing finger at Gideon. “You’re just trying to deflect from your scandalous affair with your cousin’s widow.” He waited for a reaction before making a fist. “Oh, yes, I know all about it. Tongues are wagging all over town. I can’t even escape it here in my own club. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had…”

He stopped short and lapsed into a sullen silence.

“That I rid myself of Martin so I could be with Amelia? Why would that have even been necessary? It’s not like theirs was a true marriage,” he pointed out. “Additionally, you are well aware I was abroad at the time of his death.”

Gideon crossed his arms and looked down his nose at the older man. “Fortunately, you don’t need to concern yourself with the rumors. The furor will die down once Amelia and I are married.”

Sir Clarence’s head snapped up. “But you can’t!”

“I assure you I can. Furthermore, I want to.”

“But you’re a bloody earl now. Think of your title. You can’t marry a cit’s daughter.”

“I can do whatever I damn well please. As it happens, I am marrying a lady. A loving and generous one.”

“Men in your position don’t marry for love! They marry unstained virgins fresh out of the schoolroom, well-dowered chits of good breeding.”

“My bride has enough natural grace and breeding for the both us.”

And until he got his hands on her, she’d been as pure as the driven snow.

“Pffaw. That hardly matters.” Sir Clarence said. “She’s a bloody widow and a tradesman’s get. It’s simply not the done thing.”

Gideon was getting tired of the circuitous argument. “Nevertheless, I am marrying Amelia, and soon. I just stopped by to give you fair warning—cease this pointless harassment. Stop trying to draw Amelia into your sordid arrangements. She is out of your reach now.”

Sir Clarence’s eyes flicked away. “Told you. I don’t have an arrangement with Cannonburry. As for these other accusations‚ I know nothing about them.”

Gideon should have expected the pugnacious reply, but it still irked him. He leaned close, forcing Sir Clarence to draw back until his shoulders touched the wall on the other side of the bed.

“Thrashing a drunkard is considered bad form, so I’ll take my leave of you now, but make no mistake. If you or your giant so much as sneezes in Amelia’s direction, I will call you out—blood relation or no.”

Checking the impulse to continue making threats he exited the room, nodding to the now ashen-faced porter he’d bribed for entry to the club’s inner sanctum.

Gideon didn’t think the details could be made out through the thick doors and walls of the bedroom wing. Nevertheless, he tipped the porter an extra pound for his discretion on the way out. Truthfully, he didn’t mind if the entire ton knew what he thought of his uncle, except for the fact it would also drag Amelia’s name into the mud once more. And he knew society was only too quick to blame the woman, no matter how innocent she was.

As I did.

Gideon shook himself as he reached the street. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. From this moment on, he would give short shrift to those pernicious societal whispers the ton thrived on.

Of course, some of those rumors were true now. He and Amelia were engaged in a scandalous affair. Clarence wasn’t wrong about the scandal. Even the most staid gentlemen at his clubs were commenting about it, according to Clarke. Fortunately for them, no one dared to cut Amelia directly over it. As far as he could tell, she was oblivious to the situation. Her mind was fixed elsewhere these days. However, he could not count on his reprieve to last.

Gideon sincerely hoped tonight’s visit would be the end of the harassment plaguing Amelia. Though he had no direct evidence, he knew in his bones Clarence was responsible. Except…

His uncle had been shaken when Gideon related what he’d learned in his investigation, especially the detail about the dust. Turning over Sir Clarence’s reaction in his mind, he dismissed his doubts.

I’m not wrong. It was him.

And marriage would silence the current gossip. These kind of scandals were forgotten the moment the couple in question said, ‘I do.’ Such was the way of the ton.

With luck, Amelia would consent to marry him soon. In the meantime, he decided to go and find her at the Porter bash. His mind raced ahead, wondering where he would find the seclusion required to seduce her. Gideon didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

Despite his attempts to convince her otherwise, Amelia had put her dainty foot down about them sharing a bed at night. Convinced that her mysterious monster would return when they slept, she had taken the unprecedented step of giving up the master bedroom of her home. Alone in the house at night save for Adolfo—who refused to leave her—Amelia slept in a narrow cot in the servant’s hall.

Her reasoning was faultless. Who would expect the lady of the house to be in a lowly chambermaid’s quarters?

However, Amelia’s brilliant maneuver meant Gideon had to wait for her to fall asleep every night before he silently crept inside the room and stretched out on the floor next to her. He would rise and depart just before the day servants arrived.

The situation would have been laughable if it weren’t so frustrating.

Just another quiet week, perhaps two, and she’ll see it’s over. Gideon was certain. In the meantime, there was the orangery in the Porter’s garden…