Irenna did not sleep at all well. Her dreams were full of menacing figures trying to pull her beneath the surface of a dark lake. Every time the water closed over her head, she woke with a gasp, convinced she was drowning. After the third waking, she lit the oil lamp on the bedside table, then lay back against the pillows, heart racing.

The small flame was a steady glow, reassuring her that all was well. She was in her bed in Chandos House, not trapped in deep, icy waters.

Trying to calm herself, she stared up at the ceiling, tracing the flowering garlands painted along the edges. Her breathing eased as she followed the ribbons and petals, and even spotted a bird or two perched on the vines

It was just a dream. I’m safe.

After they’d reported everything to the authorities, and then again to Count Dietrichstein, the ambassador had insisted on increasing the security of Chandos House. Even now a footman stood guard outside her door—provided he had not dozed off.

She was half tempted to call out, to see if he would answer and provide some company against the darkness. But that would be inviting scandal. Instead, she must suffer her nightmares alone. There was no one to rescue her, no Lord Percival to dash in and fight off the amorphous fears of her dreams.

Or to kiss her.

The memory sent a flash of warmth through her chest. Though she should not dwell on it, every detail was engraved in her thoughts: the feel of his surprisingly strong arms around her, the touch of his lips, at first gentle and then hungry, the way her body reacted, filled with a sudden, inexplicable yearning.

She could see why, despite his foolish ways, Viscount Percival was known as an accomplished seducer. Of course he was very handsome, but she’d discounted his reputation in the face of his sometimes appalling absurdity. Now that she’d been kissed by him, however, it made perfect sense.

The only thing she did not understand was why he had kissed her. Baron Andris had made it very clear she wasn’t attractive in the least.

She ought to be afraid of Lord Percival. Considering her wretched history with gentlemen of his ilk, it would behoove her to be careful in his company so that he would not lead her astray.

She let out a quiet, bittersweet laugh in the dimness of her bedroom. Her fears had come true. And rather than turning tail and running like a sensible young lady would, she only desired more.

Even if his head was stuffed with feathers.

Although… The man who’d dispatched her attackers last night had been steady and quick-witted. Nothing like the behavior she expected from Lord Percival. Afterward, he’d explained to the police that the Sardinians had been quite drunk, stumbling about and practically falling in a heap at his feet all by themselves.

It wasn’t what she’d seen, but Irenna had kept quiet. She’d heard that sometimes, when faced with great danger, people were capable of acting far beyond what was usual. Indeed, she’d never imagined that the crochet hook in her reticule could be a makeshift weapon, or that she’d have the courage to use it, but somehow she’d managed to slip it out and wield it against her attacker.

Perhaps something similar had happened with the viscount.

Oh, she was all in a muddle about him. The only thing she knew absolutely was that his kiss had made her feel extraordinary. Far different than the baron ever had. She shouldn’t think of it any more, of course, but remembering the feel of Lord Percival’s lips helped keep the shadows at bay.

She closed her eyes and let herself imagine she was back in his arms, his mouth warm and demanding on hers, their bodies pressed together, her senses spinning like a golden pinwheel.

With those pleasant thoughts, she finally drifted into sleep, and dreamed no more of drowning.

In the light of morning, she rose and splashed water on her face, banishing both her dark dreams and the memory of Lord Percival’s kiss. Neither of them had a place in her life. She was in London only to let the gossip in Vienna die down. As soon as it did, she had every intention of returning home and resuming her work in the Grand Duke’s library.

Certainly, being seduced by a notorious rake was not in her plans.

She dried her face with a lavender-scented towel, then paused to scrutinize her reflection in the looking glass. A rather pale, plain young woman stared back at her. Unfortunately, her unassuming exterior hid what she was beginning to fear was a regrettably sensuous nature.

It must be suppressed at all costs, of course. Such an inclination could only continue to lead her into trouble. Far better that she return to the company of her books, and stay away from the flirtations of gentlemen.

Especially handsome ones with blue eyes and hair as black as a raven’s wing.

With a deep sigh, she pinned her hair up, then let the maid help her into a dress the color of rainclouds. It suited her mood—and was a reminder that should could not let herself slip into frivolity again.

At breakfast, she reassured her aunt and the ambassador that she’d suffered no lingering harm from the events of the prior evening.

“You have such circles under your eyes,” Aunt Sophie said, refilling Irenna’s coffee cup for the third time. “I’m worried about you, Wren.”

“I was thinking that perhaps it’s time for me to return home,” Irenna said.

“Out of the question.” The ambassador set down the newspaper he’d been perusing and gave her a stern look. “The situation is far too unstable, and travel to Austria at this point would be unwise. Very unwise. No, you must remain with us until the trouble has been suppressed.”

Irenna let out a breath. “That might be a very long while. And I miss my work.”

Aunt Sophie gave her a considering look. “Then you might do well to find another musty old library whose books are in need of rescue.” A mischievous glint sparked in her eyes. “Perhaps Viscount Percival could use your assistance.”

“I’m certain his few volumes of Byron are well maintained,” Irenna said. “Maybe the queen would welcome my services, instead.”

“The Royal Library. Now that’s an interesting thought.” Aunt Sophie tapped the side of her cup, considering. “You’d certainly be safe enough in the palace, with all those red-coated guards about.”

Irenna hadn’t quite meant it, but the more she thought on the idea, the better she liked it. If she couldn’t work in the library in Vienna, then London would have to do.

“Make some inquiries, Fritz, if you will.” Aunt Sophie set her hand on her husband’s arm.

He glanced up again from his paper. “Of course, dear. Whatever you like.”

Irenna was fairly certain he’d no idea what they were discussing. Regardless, Aunt Sophie usually got her way in things, and Irenna didn’t imagine this would be any different.

The prospect was a welcome distraction. She needed something to do in London, especially if she were trapped in England for the foreseeable future. And mooning about after an imaginary hero named Lord Percival would most certainly not suffice.

Anthony spent the morning in clandestine meetings, bringing the queen and her agents up to speed on the events at the opera house, and discussing strategies to deal with the current instability. It was agreed that he would continue to spend as much time with the Austrians as possible.

He was glad of it, and tried to tell himself that he was relieved to be able to be put to good use in the middle of the current difficulties. It had nothing to do with his growing affection for Miss Irenna Brunner.

In addition to his continuing presence, he insisted that a detail of undercover guards be deployed about Chandos House to watch the premises and keep a sharp eye out for any lurking Sardinians.

Finally, when the afternoon was well advanced, he was able to pay a visit to the Austrian embassy. In order to restore his persona, he’d bought an absurdly huge bouquet of hothouse lilies to give the ladies. The sweet scent of the pink flowers enveloped him as he went up the walk to Chandos House, and he was glad to see at least three plainclothes policemen stationed unobtrusively in the general vicinity.

The butler showed him into the drawing room, where Countess Dietrichstein and her niece were sitting before the fire. His heart gave a foolish little lurch when Irenna looked up, and he smiled to see that she was crocheting, the hook darting in and out of some soft-looking green yarn.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” Anthony said. “I’ve brought you a bouquet.”

It was difficult to make his usual ostentatious bow with his arms full of flowers, but he did his best. He’d refused to let the butler take the bouquet from him at the door and ruin his grand entrance.

“How lovely,” the countess said. “Thank you.”

“Mere blooms cannot hope to compete with your beauty,” he said, gazing over the tops of the flowers and trying not to sneeze. “Or your kind understanding. Please, accept these as a compliment, and an apology.”

“Both are accepted, though your apology is not necessary. Come, sit with us.” She gestured to the wingback chair across from her own.

Anthony turned to the butler and gratefully handed off the giant bouquet, then strode to the chair the countess had indicated. Before he sat, he paused before Irenna and gave her a quick, scrutinizing look. She had dark circles under her eyes, and he cursed himself for putting her in danger the night before. Clearly she had not slept well.

“Dear Miss Brunner,” he said, “I hope you are recovered from the events at the opera. Please tell me if there is anything I can do.” Besides pulling her into his arms and sheltering her from the rest of the world.

She blushed faintly and waved her crochet hook. “As you can see, I’m well armed and ready for whatever the day might bring.”

“I devoutly hope it brings you only peace and quiet,” he said.

“That sounds rather boring,” the countess said. “At any rate, Irenna is hoping to put her library skills to work at the palace. The ambassador has promised to make inquiries with the Royal Library to see if they might find her a place.”

“Library skills?” Anthony asked, as if he were unaware of her work in Vienna.

Of course, he’d read the dossiers on the Austrians, and knew far more about all of them than they suspected. Or would likely be comfortable with.

Irenna nodded. “I have been assisting in the Grand Duke’s library in Vienna. It would seem I have a talent for helping rescue old books.”

Countess Dietrichstein waved her hand. “Don’t be so modest, Wren. You do far more than simply glue bindings together.”

“It sounds very… scholarly,” Anthony said, giving the word a doubtful twist.

Truthfully, in a different life, it seemed like something he would’ve loved to pursue. He’d excelled in his studies at Oxford, and although his library in London was paltry, his country estate held hundreds of fine volumes, including some rare first editions and manuscripts. He suppressed the twinge of regret that he’d never be able to share them with Irenna, who would certainly appreciate his collection.

“Books interest me,” she said, without a trace of apology.

“I commend you for it.” He gave her a cheerful smile. “The Royal Library is located at Windsor, however. A bit out of the way. Perhaps Queen Victoria has a small collection at the palace that might need tending, instead?”

He knew for a fact that she did—novels by Dickens and George Eliot, and a fine assortment of letters that probably ought to be bound into a folio for safekeeping.

The countess leaned back, looking thoughtful. “Viscount Percival is correct. It won’t do to send you out of London. I wonder whom the ambassador might speak to about this.”

“As to that,” Anthony said, “I know a lady who has the queen’s ear. I’ll ask her to put in a word for you. In fact, I’ll do so this very evening.”

It would be himself, of course, who would speak to the queen and arrange for Irenna to look over the collection.

“That’s very kind,” Irenna said. She gave him a shy smile. “Will you be staying for tea?”

“Alas, I must fly,” he said. “My haberdasher is expecting me. He has a new shipment of beaver top hats and promised to save the best ones for me to look over.”

The truth of it was that he had to return to the palace to make his report, not to mention put in a word for Irenna’s library skills. He’d far rather stay and take tea, and hope for a few more chances to coax a smile from her lips. But it was not his choice to make.

“Of course.” She sounded disappointed, and it made him ridiculously glad.