Effie's lips pursed and her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "It was a nasty little scene, was it not? I dread to think what is being said in the village this morning. No doubt every shopkeeper is discussing last night's assembly with every customer who walks in the door. I was afraid of this, Harriet."

Harriet poured more tea for herself. "Really, Aunt Effie, there is nothing at all to concern you. It was only one dance and, as I am very much on my way to becoming an old maid, I cannot see that it matters so very much. The excitement will all pass very soon."

"Let us hope so." Effie sighed. "Here I thought I would have to worry about protecting Felicity from St. Justin and it turns out that you are the one at risk, Harriet. How very odd. According to his reputation, he prefers very young girls."

Harriet remembered the confrontation with Gideon that morning. She knew she would never forget the rage and pain in his eyes as he had lashed out at her on the subject of lost honor. "I do not think we should believe everything we hear about St. Justin, Aunt Effie."

Mrs. Stone appeared in the doorway, her doleful eyes full of righteous warning. "Ye had best believe it, Miss Harriet, if ye know what's good for ye. Mark my words. The Beast will not hesitate to ruin another young lady if he gets the chance."

Harriet got to her feet. "You will not refer to his lordship as a beast again, Mrs. Stone. Do you understand? If you do so, you will find yourself looking for another position."

She walked to the door and went down the hall to her study, ignoring the startled silence behind her. Safe in her own personal refuge once again, she closed the door and sat down behind her desk. Absently she picked up a savagely grinning skull and turned it over in her hands.

Gideon was no beast. He was a man who had been badly scarred by life and his own fate, but he was no beast. Harriet knew she would stake her life and her own reputation on that.

Late that night Gideon put down a volume of history he had been attempting to read for the last hour and poured himself a glass of brandy. He stretched his legs out toward the fire and contemplated the flames over the rim of the glass.

The sooner this business of catching thieves was finished the better, he thought. The situation was getting dangerous. He knew that, even if Harriet Pomeroy did not. If he had any sense he would get out of the neighborhood as quickly as possible.

What the hell had he been thinking of last night when he had swept her into that waltz? He knew damn well people would talk, especially when he did not bother to ask any other woman in the room to dance.

Another rector's daughter had danced with the Beast of Blackthorne Hall. Was history about to repeat itself?

Something about Harriet was definitely making him reckless. Gideon had tried to tell himself she was an annoying little bluestocking whose only passions were reserved for old bones. But he knew that was untrue.

Harriet had more than enough passion to satisfy any man. Even if he had not experienced it in her kiss that morning in the cave, it had been crystal clear in her eyes last night when he had taken her into his arms to dance the waltz.

He had walked out of the assembly rooms shortly thereafter because he had known that if he stayed he would have provided the village gossips with even more grist for their mills. It was Harriet who would have to endure the speculation and chatter after he was gone. She might think it would be a minor trial, but she was naive. It could be hell.

Gideon warmed the brandy glass in his hands. It would be best if he left the vicinity soon, before he was prompted into one of his more outrageous actions again.

But he knew that a part of him was hoping it would take a good long while to trap the thieves.

He leaned his head back against the chair and thought of how it had felt last night to hold Harriet in his arms. She had been warm and sleek and she had responded beautifully to the dance. There had been a delightful eagerness in her. She had taken an unabashed delight in the wickedly sensual waltz. Gideon knew she would make love with the same sweet responsiveness.

The lady was, after all, nearly twenty-five years old and definitely strong-minded. Perhaps he should stop trying to be noble about the whole thing and let Harriet worry about her own reputation.

Who was he to refuse the lady the right to play with fire?

Three nights later Harriet found herself unable to sleep. She tossed and turned restlessly for two hours after going to bed. A sense of uneasiness was plaguing her. She felt anxious and alarmed for no apparent reason.

She finally gave up trying to pretend she was going to get any rest and got out of bed. When she opened the drapes she saw that clouds were partially obscuring the moon. The tide was out and she could see the swatch of silvered sand at the bottom of the cliffs.

She saw something else as well. The flicker of a lamp.

The thieves had returned.

Excitement swept through Harriet. She opened the window and peered out to get a better look. Another flash of distant flame indicated a second thief. That made sense. There were generally two, although sometimes three men had appeared on the beach.

Harriet watched for a third lamp for another moment or so and then decided that this time the third man had not accompanied the others.

She wondered if Dobbs, the Bow Street Runner, had gone into action yet. He was probably signaling to Gideon even now. Harriet nearly fell out of the window in her effort to get a better view of what was happening.

There was no doubt that this was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her. Harriet's chief regret was that she was not going to be able to see exactly what occurred when Dobbs made his arrests.

She recalled Gideon's stern lecture and his admonition to stay away from the cliff caves. How typical that the men would get to experience all the excitement firsthand while she, the one who had alerted everyone to what was going on in the first place, was obliged to hang out a window in order to view the proceedings.

Harriet waited eagerly to see if she could spot Gideon when he arrived to join Mr Dobbs. But the fitful moonlight made it difficult to see much of what was taking place on the beach.

It occurred to Harriet that she would have a much better view if she went to stand at the top of the cliff path.

It took only a few minutes to dress in a warm woolen gown, lace up her half boots, and grab her cloak and gloves.

A short while later, the hood of her cloak pulled up over her head to shield her from the brisk night air, Harriet let herself out of the house and made her way to the top of the cliff path.

From her new perch she could see a wider stretch of the beach. The band of sand was growing almost imperceptibly narrower as the tide slowly began to turn. In another half hour or so seawater would be starting to wash into the caves.

The thieves would know the timing of the tide to the precise minute, Harriet thought. They had done this many times before Gideon and Mr. Dobbs would also be aware of it. They would have to move quickly, as the thieves would not be lingering long tonight. If they did linger, they would be trapped inside the caves by the rising sea-water.

Harriet caught a glimpse of a shadowy movement down on the beach. Two shadows, she realized. Neither was using a lamp to light his way. Gideon and his butler responding to Dobbs's signal, no doubt.

Harriet stepped closer to the edge of the cliffs. She was suddenly consumed with worry. The thieves were no doubt armed and they would be emerging from the caves at any moment.

For the first time it occurred to her that Gideon might be in actual danger. The thought unnerved her, completely swamping her earlier sense of excitement. She realized she could not bear the notion of him being hurt.

The shadows that Harriet was certain were Gideon and his butler joined with another shadow that must have been Mr Dobbs and took up positions behind some boulders.

At that moment a gleam of light appeared at the entrance to the cave. Two men emerged and were hailed by Dobbs. Harriet could just barely hear the little man's authoritative shout above the sounds of the sea and the wind.

"Stop, thieves."

There were startled cries from down below. Harriet tried to get a better view of what was going on, but a man's long arm coiled suddenly around her throat from behind, pinning her. She froze with shock.

"And just what the devil do you think you're doin', Miss Pomeroy?" Crane hissed softly.

"Mr. Crane. Gracious, you startled me." Harriet thought quickly. "I could not sleep and was merely taking a late-night walk along the cliffs. What are you doing here?" Harriet silently congratulated herself on her commendable aplomb.

"Keepin' watch, Miss Pomeroy. And a good thing I did, isn't it? Else I might have been caught like those poor, stupid coves down on the beach." He let her feel the point of a knife against her neck.

Harriet shivered, aware of the unpleasant smell of the tall, gangly man as much as she was of the strength in his snakelike arm. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Mr. Crane. Is something happening on the beach tonight? I thought we were long since finished with smugglers in this region."

"Never mind the fancy lies, Miss Pomeroy." He tightened his arm, almost cutting off her air. "I can see for myself what's goin' on down there. My associates have been caught in a trap."

"I have no notion of what you are talking about, Mr. Crane."