Her expression equal parts of outrage and amusement, she said, "What qualifies you as a gentleman of honor?"

"Gentlemen do not work. Since I do not work, therefore I must be a gentleman."

Maxie laughed. "You are the most absurd creature- that logic wouldn't convince a babe in arms. Besides, even if you don't work, surely you can't just take to the road on impulse."

"But I can. In fact, I have already done so."

She surveyed her companion. He was no more than average height, and while that made him almost a head taller than she, his elegant frame did not look designed for brawling.

"You appear not only harmless, but downright ineffectual," she said as she resumed walking. "I am more likely to have to protect you than vice versa. I have spent much of my life on the road and know how to take care of myself. I do not need or want an escort, no matter how honorable your intentions."

When he smiled, she said tartly, "For all I know, I would be in more danger from you than from any hypothetical highwaymen."

An offended expression crossed his mobile face. "The lady doesn't trust me."

"I can't think of any good reason why I should." She cocked her head to one side. "Are you an actor? You are constantly performing, and actors are often without work."

"I've played many roles," he admitted, "but never on a stage."

She should have realized that; if he had tried the theater, he would have been wildly successful if only because of the females who would pay for the privilege of gazing at him. "Have you ever done any kind of useful work? Or are you purely a lily of the field?"

"Work fascinates me," he protested. "I can sit and watch it for hours."

She struggled, with little success, to keep a straight face. "I see there is no getting any sense out of you." Deciding to try another tack, she added, "I might reconsider if you have enough money to buy us coach tickets to London, but I can't afford to feed two people. I may not have enough for myself."

That gave Robin pause for a moment. Then he brightened. "I am not in funds at the moment and my banker, alas, is in London. However, I can conjure money from the air when necessary."

Before she could retreat, he reached under her hat

His fingertips grazed her ear. Though his touch was light, her skin prickled with awareness. As she caught her breath, unnerved, he moved his hand in front of her face to show the shilling that had materialized in his grasp.

"Not bad," she allowed, "but sleight of hand is not in the same class as turning lead into gold."

"Sleight of hand!" He looked offended. "We are speaking of magic, not mere trickery. Give me your hand."

Amused, she stopped walking and did as he requested. He placed the shilling on her right palm and folded her fingers around it, his clasp warm and strong. "Make two fists and I will magically move the shilling to your left hand."

Obediently she did as he asked. He made several graceful passes in the air, murmuring unintelligibly as he did. After a final flourish, he said, "There, the shilling has moved."

"You need practice, Lord Robert, because the shilling is still in my hand." She opened her fingers as proof, then gasped. Lying on her palm was not the single coin he had given her, but two. "How did you do that?"

"Very well." He grinned, dropping his showman's manner. "True, it's only sleight of hand, but I'm fairly good at such things. I've often done conjuring to earn food and lodging when my pockets were empty."

Her companion was definitely a shiftless vagrant, albeit an entertaining one. Maxie handed back his two shillings. "This has been very pleasant, Lord Robert, but why don't you return to your nap in the forest and leave me alone?"

"The roads are public." He pocketed the coins. "Since I have decided to go to London, you can't stop me."

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. What he said was quite true. Unless her unwanted escort actually assaulted her, which didn't seem imminent, he had as much right to the highway as she did. And if he chose to walk the same road at the same pace, what could she do about it?

She thought of the dogs that had sometimes followed her and her father. Like a dog, Robin would soon get bored and fall away, since charming wastrels had a span of attention somewhat shorter than that of the average mongrel. All she needed was patience.

Chapter 3

The Chanleigh Court morning room was full of choice little objets d'art, but having come nearly three hundred miles, Desdemona Ross wasted no time in admiration. "What do you mean. Maxima has gone to London to visit me?" she inquired, her thick auburn brows rising. "I am not in London, I am here in Durham. Against my better judgment, I might add."

Lady Collingwood gave her sister in law a frosty glance. "Read her note for yourself." She took a folded sheet of paper from her desk and handed it over. "The ungrateful chit decamped in the middle of the night three days ago."

Desdemona frowned as she read. "Maxima says I invited her for an extended visit, which simply isn't true. I came north to meet her, with the idea that she could return with me if we got on well, but I had not suggested that in writing."

"Maxima is a most unaccountable creature, not at all civilized or gently bred." Lady Collingwood gave a bored shrug while she evaluated her sister in law's clothing. Desdemona had a talent for dowdiness that amounted to genius. Looking attractive must be against her bluestocking principles.

Then again, perhaps Desdemona was wise to go about swaddled in dark concealing cloaks and bonnets. Her flaming red hair was hopelessly ungenteel, and deserved to be pulled back ruthlessly. And her figure… there was no way that figure would ever be fashionable, either.

With a smug thought for her own undeniable elegance, Lady Collingwood continued, "Bolting off at midnight to catch a mail coach is exactly the sort of thing one would expect of her. For that matter, so is lying." She yawned delicately behind her hand. "Really, Desdemona, you're fortunate to have missed her. It amazes me that Maximus dared bring her to Chanleigh. She belongs back in the forest with her savage Red Indian relations."

"As opposed to staying with her savage English relations?" Desdemona said with lethal sweetness. "Her mother may have been a Red Indian, but at least her family wasn't in trade."

Althea Collins flushed at the gibe, for she had spent years attempting to forget where her father had made his money. Her furious retort was forestalled by the entrance of her husband.

"Dizzy!" Lord Collingwood said, his long face showing pleased surprise. "You should have written that you were coming. It's been too long since you visited."

In spite of the twenty year difference in age and no physical resemblance whatsoever, Desdemona and her brother were fond of one another. She rose to give him a quick hug, feeling him flinch at the demonstrativeness. She had known that he would flinch, just as he had known that she would hug him anyway. It was long established family tradition. "Apparently I should have arrived three days ago, Clete."

His lordship looked pained. He didn't like the nickname any more than Desdemona liked being called Dizzy.

Formalities completed, she favored her brother with a scowl. "I came to see how my niece was faring, only to be told that she has run off with some story about visiting me."

He frowned as he realized the implications of his sister's presence. "Why aren't you in London waiting for Maxima?"

"Because I didn't invite her," Desdemona snapped. "Apparently the poor girl was so miserable here that she ran away in the hope that I would treat her better. What kind of care have you been giving your brother's only child?"

"Maxima is not a child-she's a woman grown, only a few years younger than you," her brother said defensively. "She did not consult my wishes before vanishing."

"I'm surprised she had money for the coach fare," Desdemona said. "I thought that Max was virtually penniless when he died."

There was sudden silence while the Collingwoods exchanged glances. "You're right, she had little money," her ladyship said, a line appearing between her brows. "I had to pay for her mourning clothes when Maximus died. We have been taking care of her, though she's shown precious little gratitude."

"If she was expected to be grateful, no wonder she left." Desdemona swung around to her brother again. "She may be a woman grown, but she is a stranger to England. Anything might happen to her, particularly if she is walking to London."

"Good God, surely she would never consider such a thing." Lord Collingwood halted, his face reflecting uneasiness. "This morning I noticed that my old map of the London road was not in my desk. I assumed that someone must have borrowed it."

"Apparently that is exactly what happened. Since she and Max spent much of the year roaming the wilds of New England, a journey to London must have seemed quite tame." Desdemona gave up trying to hold her temper. "You two should be ashamed of yourselves! Surely Max had a right to believe that his daughter would be safe here at Chanleigh. Instead, you drove her away."

Collingwood flushed. "I thought Maxima was happy here. I was planning to present her in London with the girls, but never pressed the issue. It didn't seem appropriate to talk about her future until she had recovered more from the loss of her father."

Desdemona fixed her sister in law with a gimlet eye.

"Did you make her welcome, too, Althea? No snide little comments about her background? Did you order a proper wardrobe for her, introduce her to the young men of the neighborhood?"