Penn could scarcely believe his eyes. Standing on the other side of the settee, her eyes wide and her lips slightly parted, was Amelia Forrest. Her blonde hair was dressed with artful curls around her heart-shaped face, and a lace-edged dove-gray gown encased her thoroughly feminine form. How had he ever mistaken her for a man?

He executed a deep bow. “Mrs. Forrest.” He realized he’d done that wrong. He ought to have bowed first to his hostess, who also outranked everyone else in the room as a dowager viscountess. He corrected his mistake and went to where Andy sat. “Lady Spier.”

“Do stop with that nonsense,” Andy said, swatting her hand at him. “You’re family.”

“Family?” Amelia’s question rattled the air.

“Not really. His sister is our missing member, so he’s like family,” Selina explained.

“Are you saying he stole the dagger?” Cassie asked loudly.

Penn looked at Amelia sharply. “What did you tell them?”

Amelia’s shoulders stiffened. “Nothing yet.” She clasped her hands together in front of her waist. “He didn’t steal it, but he found it before I could.”

“You couldn’t have found it on your own,” he said.

Cassie scowled at him. “Why, because she’s a woman?”

Penn should’ve expected Cassie’s reaction—he’d walked right into it. “Because she was ill-equipped and yes, because she’s a woman. I had to dangle from a rope and cut my hand to ribbons to reach it.” He held up his gloved hand, which had hurt quite a bit yesterday but had drastically improved once he’d applied Amelia’s salve regularly. Between him and Egg, they were nearly out of the stuff. His hope that she might provide more began to wither beneath her so-far frosty reception.

Cassie snorted again. “Let the record show that I didn’t agree with including him as proxy.”

Andy threw her sister an overly patient stare tinged with annoyance. “Cate said he had important news to share.”

“Important to whom?” Cassie grumbled.

“You were right,” Amelia said to Cassie. “I do like you best.”

Cassie immediately brightened and adjusted her spectacles as she sat a bit taller.

And now Amelia was aligned with the man-hating termagant. Wonderful.

“What news are you sharing?” Amelia asked.

Penn looked around the room. “Is the meeting in session, then? Did you start without me?”

“I’d forgotten you were coming, actually,” Andy said. “I do apologize. But no, we hadn’t officially started. We were just getting to know Mrs. Forrest.”

“You must call me Amelia,” she said.

Penn wanted to thaw the air between them. He took a step toward her. “Does that include me?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “It does not.”

“Pity,” he murmured.

Andy waved Penn toward the settee. “Do sit.”

“Yes, there’s plenty of room,” Selina said, scooting to the farthest side of the settee. That left the rest of it for Amelia and Penn. To sit next to each other. She looked around, seeming to assess her options. He was certain she was contemplating dragging another chair over to avoid sitting beside him.

Penn moved forward and stopped near her. “I won’t bite,” he whispered. “Unless you want me to.”

“Stop it,” she hissed. She motioned for him to move past her and sit in the middle.

Penn waited for her to sit, and when she did, noted that she sat as close to the end as physically possible.

“Perhaps you wouldn’t mind starting at the beginning,” Andy said, looking between Amelia and Penn.

“Certainly,” Penn began.

Cassie flashed him a perturbed glare. “Let Amelia speak first.”

Penn briefly dropped his gaze to the floor. “Of course.” He turned to face her, wondering what she’d already told them.

She kept her gaze fixed on the sisters. “I went in search of the dagger my grandfather hid. Before he died, he asked me to find it. Unfortunately, he gave me an imprecise location. I looked for a few days but found nothing until I happened upon Mr. Bowen after he’d found it.”

Cassie pinned her shrewd gaze on him. “And how did you find it?”

“I had precise directions. Provided by Mr. Gardiner—Mrs. Forrest’s grandfather.”

“You had more information than his relative?” Cassie asked incredulously. “That hardly seems fair.”

“It seems my grandfather drafted a letter several years ago to a friend of his at Oxford. Since then, his health declined so much that I daresay he may not have remembered the dagger’s location. In hindsight, it’s a good thing he sent that letter.”

Penn was a bit startled by her attitude—and impressed. He’d taken her to be in possession of good sense, and he was pleased to see this verified. He gave her an encouraging smile even though she wasn’t looking at him.

“So you were able to go right to the dagger?” Andy asked. At his answering nod, she continued, “Then it was stolen.”

Penn leaned closer to Amelia and spoke in low tones. “Are we disclosing the entire story, including the bit where you tried to shoot Egg’s ear off?”

She turned toward him then, and the brilliant green of her eyes made his breath catch. There was a fire in the depths, and the word the stone had always brought to his mind simmered there now: passion.

“I suppose we must,” she murmured before turning her attention to the women. “In my search for the dagger, I happened upon Mr. Bowen and his assistant, Egg. I tried to recover my grandfather’s property.”

“Don’t leave out the part about being dressed in men’s clothing,” Penn offered.

She gave him a droll look. “I was confident you’d mention it.”

Selina laughed. “How splendid. You simply must join our Society.” She looked over at the sisters. “Assuming you both agree.”

“I do,” Andy said, her eyes glowing with mirth. “How did you try to recover the property?”

“With my pistols,” Amelia said. “Unfortunately, they didn’t take me seriously, and I was forced to shoot at Egg.”

“She barely missed him.” Penn held up his hands to show a scant few inches between them. “But she did make it up to us by tending our wounds. It happens that Mrs. Forrest is a skilled nurse in addition to her other…talents.” He felt he’d just barely uncovered what those might be and longed to peel back the layers of the secretive lady.

“Amazing,” Andy said. “She should be a member, don’t you think?” She turned to her sister.

“Since she says she’s interested in continuing her grandfather’s pursuits, I would agree.” Cassie seemed far less enthusiastic than the others, but that was merely her demeanor. Penn had known these women for several years, since they’d invited his younger sister Cate to join their ranks. They were smart, curious, devoted to antiquities, and fiercely loyal. On occasion, he’d wished he could be a member too. They were a far less stuffy and self-important organization than the London Natural Society of Antiquities, of which he was a member. What he wasn’t a member of—and neither were any of these ladies, as far as he knew—was the Order of the Round Table.

Penn picked up the thread of their tale. “Before we could resolve the issue of the dagger’s ownership, we were accosted by brigands. Four men of varying…er, charm.”

Amelia turned her head sharply, and he heard her swift intake of breath. “Not one of them possessed an ounce of that.”

“You are correct. I misspoke. I only meant to relay that at least one seemed of a higher class than the others.”

“Have you any idea who they were?” Selina asked.

“The Order,” Cassie spat. “I’d stake my copy of Caxton’s first edition of the Canterbury Tales.”

Penn let out a low whistle. “That’s quite a wager. My father doesn’t even have a first edition.”

Cassie’s generous mouth spread into a smug smile. “I know.”

It was hard not to laugh at Cassie’s reaction. She did pride herself on her small but spectacular collection of rare books and antiquities, as well she should.

“I think I have a copy of that already,” Amelia said slowly, drawing every head in the room to turn toward her. “And a second edition—with the woodcut illustrations.”

Andy sat forward in her chair, her gaze keen with interest. “What else is in your library?”

“A variety of things. I’d be happy to have you come look at it some time. If that’s what you…do in this…club.”

Andy gave her a warm smile. “We most certainly do, and we’d be delighted. Now, no one need give up their rare books on account of the blasted Order. Penn, do you think it was them?”

“It seems likely. Unfortunately, I can’t ask Septon because he’s traveling at present.” Penn had arrived at Septon House late yesterday to find that he wasn’t at home. It was frustrating not to be able to ask him about the dagger and Jonathan Gardiner, yet convenient since Penn would be able to search for information without Septon peering over his shoulder. He planned to do just that later, but first he’d wanted to come to this meeting on the off chance they might know of a Mrs. Amelia Forrest or at least Jonathan Gardiner. Instead, he’d been far luckier and found her here in the flesh.

“Septon?” All three of the members of the Society said his name in near unison.

“He is a member of the Order! I knew it.” Cassie’s voice was triumphant as she shared satisfied looks with her sister and Selina.

Penn held up his hand. “Let us pause a moment. How much do you know about the Order?”

“Only what Cate told us in a letter,” Andy said.

“She sent you something in writing about them?” He swallowed a curse. He’d talk to his sister when she was back from her wedding trip to Cornwall.

“Don’t be angry with her. She wanted to warn us about this secret group. She didn’t confirm Septon’s membership, but you just did. We have long suspected there was more to him than simply a passion for antiquities. Since you opened the door, you may as well tell us what you know.”

“I’d intended to.” He explained the group to them, detailing what he’d laid out to Amelia the day before.

“Knights of the bloody Round Table,” Selina muttered. She pinned Penn with a skeptical stare. “Cate has persuaded Andy and Cassie that these Thirteen Treasures are real, but I’m not certain I believe that.” She waved her hand. “I know about the heart in the museum, but it can’t possibly be used to make someone fall in love.”

“I thought that once too, but they are real—everything about them is real.” He looked at each member of the Society before continuing. “This is what my sister wanted me to share with you. She found Dyrnwyn.”

“Of course she did.” Cassie’s tone rang with pride once more, but this time for her friend.

“And is the sword magical?” Andy seemed to hold her breath.

Penn was sorry Cate wasn’t here in person, but she’d been adamant that he tell them. She hadn’t wanted to make them wait. “Cate said it burst into blue flame when our cousin picked it up.”

“Kersey?” Cassie asked sharply. “Doesn’t that mean he’s a descendant of one of the knights?”

“Of Gareth, yes.”

“How extraordinary,” Andy breathed, sitting back in her chair, her expression turning contemplative.

“Cate saw this?” Selina asked.

Penn nodded. “And you trust her as much as I do.”

“Perhaps more,” Selina said softly.

Penn smiled as he gave her a pointed stare. “That, I’m afraid, is impossible.” The bond he shared with his sister, despite the fact that they shared no blood, was unique and unbreakable.

Selina inclined her head. “So the heart may actually provoke someone into falling in love?”

Penn looked sideways at Amelia, expecting to find her watching him. He wasn’t disappointed. She wanted to know if he would tell them he suspected the heart in the museum was a fake. He wouldn’t. Not until he found the real one and could prove it. “Yes, it likely does do that.”

“Which means the dagger would prevent the spell from working,” Cassie said. She looked at Amelia. “Why would your grandfather put the heart in the Ashmolean but hide the dagger?

“That is a question I can’t answer, unfortunately.” The note of disappointment in Amelia’s voice pulled at Penn. He knew what it was like to have questions that you could never answer. Questions that ate at you and kept you up at night.

“What a shame.” Selina peered around Penn at Amelia with a comforting gaze.

“What about the person he wrote that letter to?” Andy asked. “Would he—or she—know more about your grandfather’s intentions or thought processes?”

That was an excellent notion and one Penn ought to have thought of. He turned to Amelia. “We can speak with Burgess, if you’d like.”

“I would like that, thank you.”

“What of Septon?” Cassie asked. “He has to know something, particularly about the theft of the dagger. Do you think you can get it back?”

“I hope so.” Insofar as it could possibly help them find the real heart and dagger—that was what Penn was in pursuit of. He also supposed he wanted to get it back for Amelia. Fake or not, it had belonged to her grandfather, and she wanted it. Yes, he’d get it back for her. He gave her a look that held a silent promise. “We’ll find it.”

She blinked at him. “We’ll?”

It seemed she still hadn’t decided they should work together. Dammit, what else did she need to know to accept that he could be trusted?

Penn glanced around at the other women. “Perhaps you could tell Mrs. Forrest that I am both trustworthy and loyal.”

“It’s true,” Cassie said. “As far as men go, he is one of the—few—good ones.”

“I would trust him with my life,” Andy said. “His sister is our dearest friend, and we’ve known them for years. In the antiquarian community, Penn is greatly admired.”

“I appreciate your votes of confidence; however, there are things you don’t know.” She paused, perhaps weighing whether to tell them the rest. “He believes the heart in the museum is a fake. He seeks to discredit my grandfather. While it may seem reasonable for us to align our efforts to find the dagger, we are at cross-purposes.”

“Oh dear,” Selina said.

“I see,” came Andy’s response.

Cassie shrugged. “Then it probably is a fake. I highly doubt Penn means to discredit your grandfather; however, the truth must out.” Amelia pursed her lips, and Cassie added, “And now you won’t like me best anymore.” She sighed.

“On the contrary, I value your candor,” Amelia said. “You will understand when I say that I must still decide for myself.”

“Of course,” Andy said hastily. “And please allow us to assist you in any way that we can. Indeed, how can we help?”

Amelia stood, surprising everyone, and Penn jumped to his feet beside her. “I think I’ve learned all I can for today,” she said. “I look forward to you coming for a visit to survey my grandfather’s library and antiquities collection, small though it may be.”

“Size doesn’t matter,” Cassie said, completely missing the subtle, humor-filled look her sister and Selina exchanged.

Amelia coughed. “Yes, well, thank you for the tea and your kind invitation.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Penn offered. He was encouraged when she said nothing and simply strode toward the door.

Everyone said good-bye, and Penn trailed Amelia from the town house. She descended the stairs and walked straight to her coach, where her coachman waited.

Penn touched her elbow to stop her from leaving. “Amelia—Mrs. Forrest.”

She swung around. “You are too familiar, sir.”

“Haven’t we moved past all this?” He didn’t bother keeping the exasperation from his voice. “So our goals aren’t exactly aligned. I am not going to humiliate your grandfather. Perhaps we’ll find that he knew the heart was a fake. Perhaps he hid the real heart somewhere. Who knows what we’ll find, but we have to at least look.”

“Actually, we don’t—at least not for the heart. The dagger is another matter. Will you really help me find it?”

He rested his hand over his heart. “With my dying breath.”

She rolled her eyes. “There’s no need to be melodramatic.”

“Perhaps not, but it seems a little levity might be in order.” He moved closer and looked into her eyes. “I am not your enemy.”

“Neither are you my friend,” she said softly.

“I’d like to be. Let me demonstrate my earnestness in helping you. Yesterday, I gave you the letter. Today, I invite you to dine with me tonight at Septon House, where, together, we can search for clues about the heart and dagger.”

Her eyes flickered with surprise before darkening. “This sounds a bit scandalous.”

“It’s only dinner.”

“And sleuthing.”

He grinned. “And sleuthing.”

“All right.”

Had she just agreed? He wouldn’t ask for confirmation, lest she change her mind. “Septon House is an hour away, near Bradford on Avon. If you like, you can spend the night as well.”

Her blonde brows arched high enough on her forehead he feared they might fly away. “That is more than a bit scandalous.”

“Only if we allow it.” He shouldn’t have said it, but he couldn’t help himself.

“You’re flirting.” Her eyes narrowed. “You must stop. We have a tenuous affiliation and nothing more. Do not make me regret it.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “I promise I won’t.”

She climbed into her coach then, and the coachman closed the door behind her.

Penn watched as they drove away. He’d never looked forward to a dinner more.

* * *

As her coach pulled into the drive leading to Septon House, Amelia wondered for the hundredth time if she hadn’t made a mistake. Because she and Penn were at cross-purposes. Because she was going to the home of a man who belonged to this mysterious and perhaps dangerous Order. Because she and Penn would be alone.

And she’d packed a bag since it looked as though it might rain. She didn’t want to get stuck in bad weather late at night.

She reminded herself—also for the hundredth time—that Andy, Cassie, and Selina had made a point of praising Penn. She’d gone to their meeting to see if they knew him, and if so, if he could be trusted. She had her answer. At least according to them.

If she were honest with herself, and she really tried to be after what she’d endured, she had to admit he’d demonstrated a keen interest in proving his helpfulness and trustworthiness. He had given her Grandfather’s letter, and he’d invited her here tonight. Hopefully, it would be worth her time and effort.

The coach came to a stop, and her maid jolted instantly awake. She rubbed a hand over one eye and blinked. “We’re here?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Culley gave Amelia a sheepish smile.

“Don’t apologize. It’s a perfectly good time to nap.”

The door opened, and Horatio helped Amelia step down into the graveled drive. A fat drop of rain landed on her sleeve, causing her to hurry toward the door. The butler welcomed her inside.

“Good evening, Mrs. Forrest. I trust you had a pleasant journey. I can show you to your room, or if you’d like to join Mr. Bowen in the library, I can show you there instead.”

She was anxious to see if her trip had been in vain. “I’ll join Mr. Bowen, thank you, and you can show my maid, Culley, to my room.”

Culley had come in behind her and now rushed forward to help remove Amelia’s pelisse. She also took Amelia’s hat and gloves before the butler motioned for a footman to show her upstairs. The butler then bowed to Amelia. “If you’ll just follow me.”

She trailed him through the entry hall and into perhaps the grandest room she’d ever seen. The large, elegant drawing room contained many antiquities: tapestries, pottery, weapons, and probably many other things she didn’t have time to see.

They moved into an even larger room with wide windows on the opposite side. Bookshelves lined the massive space, and Penn stood on a ladder halfway up one wall, his arm extended as he reached for a book.

“Mrs. Forrest has arrived.”

Penn turned his head and smiled. “Excellent, thank you, Peverell. Do let us know when dinner is served.”

The butler bowed before taking himself off, leaving them precisely as Amelia had both expected and feared: alone. Why was she afraid? Because he flirted with her. No, because she liked it.

Penn clutched the book in his hand and made his way down the ladder. “I’m so glad you came.” He strode toward her but stopped at a respectable distance. His expression darkened. “Is something amiss?”

“Nothing you aren’t already aware of. I’m doing my best to put aside our initial meeting—and the fact that you want to defame my grandfather.”

“I want to do no such thing. Anyway, if I can overlook your trying to shoot me, surely you can move past any reservations you may have about me. Especially after meeting with the Ladies’ Society today.”

He made a valid point. “Clearly, I am trying to do that; otherwise, I wouldn’t have come,” she said. In an effort to change the topic, she looked around the library. “This is quite a collection.”

He followed her gaze. “It is. My father is a renowned medieval scholar who collects and translates rare books, but even his library isn’t this large.”

Amelia walked toward one of the walls of books. “How old is Septon that he’s accumulated such a huge collection?”

“He’s in his late fifties, but he inherited a large portion of this from someone he knew at Oxford.”

She turned to look at Penn. “Not a relative?”

“No, a friend.”

“How generous.” She finished her stroll to the bookshelf and walked along it until she reached a cavernous fireplace where a low fire burned.

Penn followed her. “It’s my understanding the man had no heirs, and he knew Septon would value it as much as he did—if not more.”

She turned to face Penn. “Do you know if this man was a member of the Order?”

“I don’t, but I’ve wondered. The members are either descendants of the knights, or, as in Septon’s case, they are scholars with an exceptional knowledge and understanding of Arthurian lore. I know this man—Pritchard—was a mentor to Septon. It’s possible he recruited him into the Order.”

Amelia shook her head as if that might somehow sort all the new information invading her brain since she’d met Penn Bowen two days ago. Had it just been two days? Everything seemed so different. She could measure time before encountering him and after. Put like that, their meeting seemed a significant event.

“This is all so much…bigger than I realized,” she said. “To think that my grandfather was somehow involved with this secret group is difficult for me to comprehend. His was a gentle, peaceful soul. He always seemed quite content with his books, his herb garden, and his family.” Her happiness and that of her father had been supremely important to him.

“We’ve no confirmation that your grandfather was involved with the Order at all.”

It was time to share at least some of what she knew with Penn. “I don’t know whether he was involved, but he was aware of them.”

Penn took a step toward her, his eyes widening. “In what way?”

She nodded. “He had a journal—I’ve brought it with me—and there’s one entry that mentions the Order.” She recited it from memory:

“So that is why you didn’t seem surprised when I brought it up. What book is he referring to?”

“That I don’t know.” And the more she thought about it and tried to determine what it might be, the more she was convinced it was important. “It’s a mystery we’ll need to solve.”

He took another step toward her so that they were barely two feet apart. “We. I like the sound of that.”

There he went, flirting again, or at least infusing his words with heat and the hint of innuendo. And there went her body responding—a warmth building in her chest and a pleasure suffusing her limbs. It had been so long since a man had paid her attention. It was only natural she would feel flattered. It meant nothing.

She put her mind to the matter at hand. “I searched my grandfather’s library when I arrived home from Burrington, but nothing stood out to me. There’s nothing to do with the Thirteen Treasures at all, save a collection of medieval romances he transcribed, including Ranulf and Hilaria.”

“Did you also bring that by any chance?”

“I did.”

His gaze sparked with admiration. “You are going to be quite good at this. Hunting for antiquities, I mean.”

“Is that what we’re doing?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I am. I’m looking for the Heart of Llanllwch.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and clasped her hands. “Well, I am keeping an eye on you and will gleefully say, ‘I told you my grandfather’s was real,’ when you fail to find it.”

“I almost look forward to that,” he murmured.

Straightening her shoulders and stiffening her resolve against the onslaught of his magnetism, she moved to a glass-fronted case which held several artifacts—pottery, jewelry, a very old-looking manuscript with faded color illustrations that must have been strikingly beautiful when it was first produced. “There are so many books. How can we ever hope to find the book my grandfather wrote about in his journal?”

“If you wouldn’t mind allowing me to read it, I might be able to find some clues that weren’t noticeable to you.”

She didn’t take offense because he was far more knowledgeable than she. “I wouldn’t mind. Would you like to read it now? If you find something, we could discuss it at dinner.”

He gave her a slightly sheepish smile that was quite endearing. “I was hoping you would say something like that. I’m a fast reader, so unless it’s a multi-volume saga, I should be able to complete it quickly. I can ask the staff to hold dinner for a bit.”

“That would be fine. I’d like to go upstairs for a respite. I’ll have the journal—and it is just one, slender book—sent to your room.”

“Excellent.”

She nodded and began to pivot when he stopped her. “I’m quite glad you’re here, Mrs. Forrest. I do believe this will be the start of a wonderful adventure.”

She peered at him, honestly curious, but also a bit in awe. “Is that what all this is to you—an adventure?”

“Of course. All of life is an adventure. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She’d never thought of it like that. She supposed she’d had her fair share of “adventure,” if one wanted to think of some of the mishaps that had befallen her that way. In fact, it sounded far more palatable. So much so that she decided right then to adopt that notion. From now on, she was on an adventure, and she meant to make it grand.

She allowed a small smile to curl her lips. “See you at dinner.”