Carolyn didn't ask how Nelson would recognize Mr. Jennsen-her butler seemed to know everyone in town.

"Are you in, my lady?"

Carolyn nodded, curious as to what would bring Mr. Jennsen calling. "Yes. You may show him into the drawing room, then deliver the package to Lord Surbrooke."

She headed down the corridor to the drawing room, where she checked her appearance in the gilt framed mirror. Heavens, she was practically glowing. Thank goodness the weather was good, so she could blame her vivid coloring on the sun, should Mr. Jennsen even notice.

A knock sounded, and at her bid to enter, Nelson opened the door. "Mr. Jennsen to see you, my lady."

The butler stepped back and Mr. Jennsen entered the room. Dressed in buff breeches, a Devonshire brown jacket, and polished black boots, he looked masculine and robust, and the room seemed to somehow shrink due to his commanding presence. His thick, dark hair appeared ruffled, either by his fingers or the wind, lending him a slightly undone air that suited him. She glanced in surprise at the bouquet of vivid pink peonies he held.

"Good afternoon, Lady Wingate," he said.

"Mr. Jennsen, how nice to see you."

"Please call me Logan." He crossed the carpet and extended the bouquet. "For you."

She buried her face in the colorful, fragrant blooms. "They're lovely. Thank you, Logan." She nodded toward the grouping of chairs around the fireplace. "Would you like to sit down?"

"Thank you."

As they settled themselves on the settee, she asked, "Shall I ring for tea?"

"Thank you, Lady Wingate, but I cannot stay long."

"Carolyn, please," she said, placing her flowers on the end table then offering him a smile. "To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

"I heard about the shooting incident outside your home last evening and was concerned."

"Who told you?"

He made a vague gesture with his hand. "Servants talk. You know how quickly gossip travels."

"Well, then you must have also heard that I wasn't injured."

"Yes." He smiled. "But I wanted to see for myself. Between that and Lady Crawford's murder, I was concerned for your safety. Besides, those flowers desperately wanted to belong to a beautiful woman." He leaned closer and confided, "They told me so."

"Talking flowers? How unusual." A smiled tugged at her lips. "I wonder what they'll tell me about you?"

He shot the flowers a mock glare. "Only good things, I hope."

"I'm certain of it," she said with a laugh. "Well, as you can see, I'm no worse for the wear for my mishap last evening."

"No worse indeed," he agreed, his gaze wandering over her. "In fact you're positively… glowing."

His words raced heat directly into her face. Before she could find her voice, he went on, "I understand Surbrooke was with you last night and he wasn't hurt, either."

Heavens, gossip did indeed travel quickly. "One of his servants fell ill, and my maid and I went to his home to offer assistance."

"I didn't realize your maid was with you. I hope she wasn't injured."

Carolyn felt her blush deepen. "She remained at Lord Surbrooke's home through the night. Lord Surbrooke was kind enough to escort me home."

He nodded slowly. "I see."

His dark eyes studied her intently, as if she were a puzzle he were trying to figure out. She took the opportunity to study him as well. His face was a fascinating landscape of stark panes, softened only by his full, sensual mouth. Although he wasn't classically handsome, he exuded an undeniable masculine appeal and was very attractive. As if his dark good looks weren't enough, the air of mystery that surrounded him-no one knew very much about him or his past in America-coupled with his fabulous wealth, made him the object of great interest amongst the ladies of the ton, despite his undesirable colonial heritage. She had no doubt that many a female heart sped up whenever he entered a room.

Which suddenly begged the question: Why didn't he make her heart speed up? She liked him and had enjoyed his company at Matthew's house party and on the few occasions she'd seen him since returning to London. He was wry, witty, intelligent, attractive… so why didn't he affect her the same way Daniel did? When she fantasized about the erotic writings from the Memoirs, why was the man in her imaginings always Daniel and never Logan?

"Carolyn… I wonder if you could possibly be thinking the same thing I am?"

His question yanked her from her thoughts, and she gave a self-conscious laugh. She was about to assure him that she was certain they weren't thinking the same thing, but the words died in her throat, when he captured her upper arms in his large hands. Drew her close. And settled his mouth on hers.

Her body stiffened with shocked surprise, but after several seconds it became obvious that Logan Jennsen knew how to kiss a woman. Since she suddenly found herself very curious, she allowed herself to relax. And quickly realized that although Logan's technique was exceptional and his kiss perfectly pleasant, it didn't come close to affecting her the way Daniel's did. Indeed, Logan couldn't do to her with a masterful kiss what Daniel was able to do with a mere look.

Oh, dear.

He leaned back, and she opened her eyes and found him regarding her with a half-puzzled, half-surprised expression. His hands slid slowly from her shoulders, then he cleared his throat.

"Do you wish to slap my face?" he asked.

For some reason a bubble of amusement rose in her throat, one for which she was grateful, as it pushed aside her unsettling thoughts. "Do you want me to?"

"'Not particularly."

"I'd prefer an explanation."

"As to why I'd wish to kiss a beautiful woman? It is not difficult to figure out." A frown burrowed his brow and he tapped his index finger against his bottom lip, as if to make certain it was still there. His intense gaze settled on hers. "What did you think?"

Not quite sure how to answer without wounding his feelings, she hedged, "What did you think?"

He drew a deep breath, then said, "I'm not good with pretty words the way you Brits are so I'll just spit it out. I've missed my opportunity with more than one woman I've admired since coming to England, and I didn't want to let another one get away. But our kiss wasn't… what I expected."

"What had you expected?"

"Pyrotechnics." A sheepish look crossed his face. "I like you too much not to be perfectly honest with you. I didn't feel any… spark. I'm sorry." He dragged a hand through his hair. "I think you should slap my face."

She couldn't help but laugh. "I like you too much not to be honest. I didn't feel any spark, either."

He blinked, then smiled. "Really?"

"Really."

"Well." He blew out a sigh of obvious relief then chuckled. "I suppose my manly pride shouldn't allow me to be so happy about that."

"Nor my womanly vanity." She grinned. "You can bear it if I can."

He chuckled. "Agreed. It would it appear we are destined to only be friends."

"So it would appear." And while she was happy for his friendship, she was deeply troubled by what was now patently clear-that what she felt for Daniel obviously ran deeper. She held out her hand. "Friends?"

"Friends." He lifted her hand and brushed a kiss across the backs of her fingers. "Mon ami."

Carolyn blinked in surprise. "Do you speak French?"

"As a matter of fact I do."

"Fluently?"

"Yes." His eyes took on a teasing gleam. "Shall I dazzle you with some verb conjugations?"

She pushed aside her troubling thoughts and instead recalled a button-eyed Droopy. "Actually, there are several phrases I'd like very much to learn."


"I'm sorry I missed seeing you this afternoon," Sarah said, after greeting Carolyn that evening with a tight hug when they found each other at the crush that was Lord and Lady Exbury's soiree. "I'm very relieved you're all right. What a horrible, frightening episode. Thank goodness Lord Tolliver is in custody and cannot hurt anyone else." Sarah released Carolyn, studied her for several seconds, then pushed up her spectacles and blinked. "I must say, you're looking none the worse for your fright. Indeed, you're positively glowing."

Good heavens. Little had she known that her tryst with Daniel would cause her to still glitter like a candle. She looked at her sister and, after a pause, said, "I could say the same about you, Sarah. You look as if you're lit from within."

Her sister's coloring deepened. She grabbed Carolyn's arm and pulled her into the nearby corner of the crowded drawing room, bypassing snippets of conversation dominated by Lady Crawford's murder.

"Can't believe the killer hasn't yet been apprehended-"

"Surely it won't be long…"

"I heard they think a former lover-"

"-and now another shooting last night-"

Once ensconced in the privacy provided by the dimly lit corner, Sarah said in an undertone, "I know why I'm glowing, and it is entirely the fault of that husband of mine, who finally sent me one of those "time and place' notes described in the Memoirs?

"Clearly it worked remarkably well."

"You have no idea." Sarah lifted a brow. "What is your excuse?"

It is entirely the fault of your husband's best friend, who demonstrated the "carriage lovemaking" described in the Memoirs.

Unwilling to say that aloud, Carolyn hesitated. She'd never kept secrets from Sarah, but how could she expect her sister to understand something that she barely understood herself? An attraction so unexpected, yet so powerful it had her acting in ways she never thought herself capable of? An attraction she was beginning to fear might be turning into something more-with a man who'd made it clear he wanted nothing more than an affair.