He smiled at her, then, more tentatively, at her escort.

Metaphorically, Patience grabbed him. "Mr. Cynster, Mr. Cynster and Mr. Aubrey-Wells-my brother, Gerrard Debbington."

She gave the men the minimum of time to exchange greetings, then, smiling too brightly, beamed at them all. "I really should check on Minnie." Mr. Aubrey-Wells looked confused; she beamed even more brightly. "My aunt, Lady Bellamy." Taking Gerrard's arm, she flung them another brilliant smile. "If you'll excuse us?"

They all bowed with ready grace, Gabriel and Demon easily outperforming Mr. Aubrey-Wells. Inwardly gritting her teeth, Patience steered Gerrard away. "Don't you ever dare bow like that."

Gerrard sent her a startled look. "Whyever not?"

"Never mind."

They had to tack through the crowd. The throng was at its height. Supper had yet to be served. All had arrived but few had yet departed.

In order to get to Minnie's chaise, they had perforce to pass by the double doors through which Vane and the beauty had disappeared. Patience had intended to sweep past, nose in the air. Instead, as they neared the innocent-looking panels, she slowed.

When she halted a few steps from the doors, Gerrard threw her an inquiring look. Patience saw it; she took a moment before she met it.

"You go on." Drawing a deep breath, she straightened. Lips setting, she lifted her hand from his sleeve. "I want to check on something. Can you see Minnie into supper?"

Gerrard shrugged. "Of course." Smiling, he ambled on.

Patience watched him go-then turned on her heel and marched straight to the double doors. She knew perfectly well what she was doing-even if she couldn't formulate a single coherent thought through the haze of fury clouding her brain. How dare Vane treat her like this? He hadn't even said good-bye. He might be an elegant gentleman to his toes, but he was going to have to learn some manners!

Besides, the beauty was too young for him, she could barely be more than seventeen. A chit out of the schoolroom-it was scandalous.

Her hand on the doorknob, Patience paused-and tried to think of an opening line-one suitable for the scene she might very likely stumble in upon. Nothing leapt to her tongue. Grimly, she shook aside her hesitation. If, in the heat of the moment, nothing occurred to her, she could always scream.

Eyes narrow, she grasped the handle and turned.

The door flew inward, pulled open from within. Yanked off her feet, Patience tripped on the raised threshold and fetched up against Vane's chest.

The impact knocked the air from her lungs; Vane's arm, locking about her, kept her breathless. Wide-eyed and gasping, Patience looked up into his face.

His eyes met hers. "Hel-lo."

His intent expression made Patience stiffen, only to realize the arm around her, steadying her, was also trapping her.

Hard against him.

Dazed, she glanced around; the dark shapes of huge leaves reared above the denser dark of heavy pots, grouped upon a tiled floor. Moonlight streamed through walls of long windows and panes in the ceiling, silvering paths wending between stands of palms and exotic blooms. The rich scents of earth and the warm humidity of growing things hung on the heavy air.

She and Vane stood within the shadows, just beyond the shaft of light lancing through the open door. A yard away, enveloped in soft gloom, stood the beauty, regarding her with open curiosity.

The beauty smiled and bobbed a curtsy. "How do you do? Miss Debbington, isn't it?"

"Ah-yes." Patience looked, but could see no signs of disarray-the girl appeared neat as a pin.

Into her total bewilderment Vane's voice fell, like a bell tolling. "Allow me to present Miss Amanda Cynster."

Stunned, Patience looked up; he captured her gaze and smiled. "My cousin."

Patience mouthed an innocent, "Oh."

"First cousin," he added.

Amanda cleared her throat. "If you'll excuse me?" With a quick nod, she slipped past, out of the door.

Abruptly, Vane raised his head. "Remember what I said."

"Of course I will." Amanda threw him a disgusted frown. "I'm going to tie him in knots, and then hoist him from his…" She gestured, then, with a swish of her skirts, stalked into the crowd.

Patience reflected that Amanda Cynster sounded like a beauty who would never need rescuing.

She, however, might.

Vane returned his attention to her. "What are you doing here?"

She blinked, and glanced around again-then hauled in a breath, difficult with her breasts pressed to his chest. She gestured to the room. "Someone mentioned it was a conservatory. I've been thinking of suggesting that Gerrard install one at the Grange. I thought I'd look in." She peered into the leafy gloom. "Study the amenities."

"Indeed?" Vane smiled, the merest lifting of his long lips, and released her. "By all means." With one hand, he pushed the door shut; with the other, he gestured to the room. "I'll be only too pleased to demonstrate some of the benefits of a conservatory."

Patience cast him a swift glance and quickly stepped forward, out of his reach. She gazed at the arches forming the ceiling. "Was this room always part of the house, or was it added on?"

Behind her, Vane slid the bolt on the doors; it engaged noiselessly. "It was, I believe, originally a loggia." Strolling unhurriedly, he followed Patience down the main pathway, into the palm-shrouded depths.

"Hmm, interesting." Patience eyed a palm towering above the path, handlike leaves poised as if to seize the unwary. "Where does Honoria get such plants?" Passing beneath the palm, she trailed her fingers through delicate fern fronds surrounding the palm's base-and threw a quick glance behind her. "Do the gardeners propagate them?"

Pacing steadily in her wake, Vane caught her gaze. His brows rose fractionally. "I've no idea."

Patience looked ahead-and quickened her pace. "I wonder what other plants do well in such a setting. Palms like these might be a bit hard to come by in Derbyshire."

"Indeed."

"Ivies, I daresay, would do well. And cacti, of course."

"Of course."

Flitting along the path, absentmindedly touching this plant or that, Patience stared ahead-and tried to spot the way out. The path wound randomly about; she was no longer entirely sure of her bearings. "Perhaps, for the Grange, an orangery might be more sensible."

"My mother has one."

The words came from just behind her. "She has?" A swift glance behind revealed Vane almost at her shoulder. Gulping in a quick breath, Patience mentally acknowledged the skittering excitement that had cinched tight about her lungs, that had started, very effectively, to draw her nerves taut. Expectation, anticipation, shivered in the moonlit dark. Breathless, wide-eyed, she lengthened her stride. "I must remember to ask Lady Horatia-oh!"

She broke off. For one moment, she stood stock-still, drinking in the simple beauty of the marble fountain, the base of its pedestal wreathed in delicate fronds, that stood, glowing lambently in the soft white light, in the center of a small, secluded, fern-shrouded clearing. Water poured steadily from the pitcher of the partially clad maiden frozen forever in her task of filling the wide, scroll-lipped basin.

The area had clearly been designed to provide the lady of the house with a private, refreshing, calming retreat in which to embroider, or simply rest and gather her thoughts. In the moonlit night, surrounded by mysterious shadow and steeped in a silence rendered only more intense by the distant sighing of music and the silvery tinkle of the water, it was a hauntingly magical place.

For three heartbeats, the magic held Patience immobile.

Then, through the fine silk of her gown, she felt the heat of Vane's body. He did not touch her, but that heat, and the flaring awareness that raced through her, had her quickly stepping forward. Hauling in a desperate breath, she gestured to the fountain. "It's lovely."

"Hmm," came from close behind.

Too close behind. Patience found herself heading for a stone bench, shaded by a canopy of palms. Stifling a gasp, she veered away, toward the fountain.

The fountain's pedestal was set on a stone disc; she stepped onto the single, foot-wide step. Beneath her soles, she felt the change from tiles to marble. One hand on the rim of the basin, she glanced down, then, nerves flickering wildly, forced herself to bend and study the plants nestling at the pedestal's base. "These look rather exotic."

Behind her, Vane studied the way her gown had pulled tight over the curves of her bottom-and didn't argue. Lips lifting in anticipation, he moved in-to spring his trap.

Her heart racing, tripping in double time, Patience straightened, and went to slide around the fountain, to place it between herself and the wolf she was trapped in the conservatory with. Instead, she ran into an arm.

She blinked at it. One faultless grey sleeve enclosing solid bone well covered with steely muscle, large fist locked over the scrolled rim of the basin, it stated very clearly that she wasn't going anywhere.

Patience whirled-and found her retreat similarly blocked. Swinging farther, she met Vane's gaze; standing on the tiled floor, one step below her, arms braced on the rim, his eyes were nearly level with hers. She studied them, read his intent in the silvered grey, in the hardening lines of his face, the brutally sensual line of those uncompromising lips.

She couldn't believe her eyes.

"Here?" The word, weak though it was, accurately reflected her disbelief.