"… so no carriage is missing?"

The three stablemen nodded their heads in unison. Jinx wanted to scream. She would have asked them the very same thing, had she been provided time enough to think of it. But if Lord Hartley thought he could instigate a private inquisition on her property, he was very much mistaken.

"Darren. Clifton. Rob. You are all dismissed. Go about your work," she ordered in crisp tones. Grateful, they bobbed their heads and practically sprinted from the shaded carriage house. Then she turned on Lord Hartley and his man. She crossed her arms and gave him her severest look. "I believe I asked you to leave."

He raised one dark brow in a maddening display of arrogance. "So you did. And in so doing, you no doubt think to delay my search. But I caution you, Miss Benchley. Do not think a relationship to the Hartley name will benefit either you or your brother."

"Hah! I'm hardly so delusional as to believe that. Though you may find this difficult to comprehend, not everyone finds a connection to the upper nobility an asset. If the truth be told, I cannot imagine a less welcome notion. You as my brother-in-law." She forced a visible shudder.

Unfortunately, the insult she implied just ricocheted off his superior attitude. "So you say. But the two carriages you keep appear older than you." He gestured around them. "There's a hole in the roof, judging by that spot of sunshine next to your foot. And the entire' premises, both house and outbuildings, are in need of a fresh coat of paint. You do not keep a butler. 'Tis obvious your finances are not entirely in order. Added to that, the Benchley penchant for investing in ridiculous inventions is well-known." He crossed his arms across his chest, mirroring her pose. "Did I leave anything out?"

Jinx trembled with outrage. How dare he reduce her family to the status of lowly money grubbers! She advanced on him, fists knotted and eyes blazing. "How like an aristocrat to focus purely on the physical-and the monetary. You have indeed left something out, something which defines the Benchleys much more clearly than our financial condition. We have a long history of making love matches. We Benchleys always marry for love."

"For love?" he snorted. "Perhaps. But love of what?"

Though it was clear she would have no influence on his poor opinion of either her brother or her family, Jinx's dander was up. She could not ignore his sarcasm. "I'll confess, I too find it hard to imagine Colin falling in love with your sister. Given what I know of you and your horrid reputation, I find myself hard-pressed to believe anything good of your sister. Had Colin asked my opinion, I would have advised him to avoid any connection with the Hartley line. But he did not ask my opinion, and so I can only assume that he sees something in her worth loving. Despite all the liabilities attached to her name, she must possess some redeeming grace for them to have made a love match. At least I dearly hope so."

The words had tumbled out in a violent rush, a sarcastic sermon that left her breathless. But as she came up for air, she realized he was staring at her with a strange glitter in his eyes-and that she'd advanced far too near him.

"Were you a man," he said, "I'd call you out for insulting my family in such a manner."

Jinx swallowed hard. "Were I a man, I would already have called you out," she vowed. "If you will recall, you insulted my family first"

"But you're not a man, are you?" he observed in a voice that no longer sounded angry. It was no longer loud, either. In fact, there was a disturbingly husky quality to it which, when coupled with his intent gaze, seemed more seductive than anything else.

And she could feel herself responding to it.

Oh, help! a little voice cried from somewhere inside

her. While she trusted herself to match wits with the man, she'd not considered that he might try to seduce her. Stupid, stupid girl. He was not considered a rake for nothing!

She took a hasty step backward. "I think you should leave, Lord Hartley. Colin is not here and I cannot help you."

"Cannot? Or will not?" His eyes ran over her in a slow perusal that shot the most inappropriate prickles of awareness through her. He was trying to disarm her with his famous charm. And she'd almost let him.

But not anymore.

She wrapped her arms around her waist and when his eyes locked once more with hers, she deliberately let her eyes go crossed. It was an old childhood ploy, one she'd often used to distract Colin. Now, though, she used it to distract herself. If she could not see Lord Hartley's handsome face and slumberous gaze, they could not affect her.

"What are you doing?"

Jinx started at his sudden question, again stepping backward. But her crossed eyes made her awkward. She lost her balance and might even have fallen had not Lord Hartley caught her. By the time her eyes were straight, he had her laid down on the dusty stable floor.

"Are you all right?" He knelt over her, his face but inches from hers. "Can you hear me?" He patted her cheek rather sharply. "Miss Benchley, can you hear me?"

"I can hear you!" She batted his hand away.

He looked immeasurably relieved. "It appears you may have fainted."

"I did not faint." She struggled up on her elbows. "I never faint. Would you please move?"

"Are you subject to fits, then? Your eyes went crossed.",

"I know they did," she fumed, feeling like an idiot.

"I see. Do they do that often?"

She glared at him. "It depends on whether or not I want them to." She crossed her eyes for emphasis, then uncrossed them.

His brow furrowed as he stared at her, and all at once Jinx became acutely conscious of their odd position. She lay on the carriage-house floor with a stranger kneeling over her-a famous town rake, no less. Pray God none of the servants were near enough to see. Of course, it might be better if someone were nearby, for Harrison Stirling was again studying her with that disturbingly intent gaze of his.

Then his eyes crossed and she couldn't help it. She burst out laughing.

He started laughing, too, and for a moment, at least, the two of them were in accord. But when he helped her upright, their humor could not last. The dire circumstances of their meeting precluded it. Slowly their laughter faded, and she took a careful step back from him.

"We are agreed that a marriage between Colin and Alice is unwise," she said, sober now. "Can we not also agree on how to deal with their reckless behavior?"

His jaw became stern. "I cannot allow them to wed, and I will do whatever I can to prevent it."

"And if you are too late to prevent it?"

Their gazes locked, and the most ludicrous thought leapt into Jinx's head: if only they'd met under different circumstances. Then reason prevailed and she buried that insane notion. This was Lord Hartley, notorious rake, deadly duelist. Holding her breath, she repeated her question. "What if you are too late?"

After a long, tense moment he replied. "I won't be."

She heard the threat in his voice and chose to read the worst into his words. What else could she do? "I think it's time you left."

He made no move to comply. "They went to Gretna Green, I take it."

"I imagine so. Good day, Lord Hartley." She turned to depart but he caught her by the arm.

"It would be better if you cooperate with me, Miss Benchley. It would be in everyone's best interest if I found them before he has the chance to completely ruin her."

"By society's standards-your society-she is ruined already."

"I have the wherewithal to remedy that."

"Oh, yes. Your famous riches. All that money that you have and we Benchleys do not." She gave him a tight smile. "I have no information that can help you. He did not take one of our carriages, but that signifies nothing. Perhaps your innocent little sister provided the equipage."

"She did not."

"Then they rented a hack. Or could they have chosen to travel by horseback?" she added, hoping to gain some snippet of information from him.

He frowned and thought for a moment. "I do not think Alice so adept a rider as to attempt such a long journey by horseback."

But she was, Jinx thought. On horseback she could make much faster time than could a hired hack. But first she must rid herself of Harrison Stirling.

"However they travel, you but waste your time speaking with me, Lord Hartley."

"Perhaps so. Then again, perhaps not. I caution you, Miss Benchley, not to aid the runaways. You may delude yourself into believing it possible to marry purely for love, but the rest of English society is far more practical."

"Indeed. Since you are so practical, then, you must realize that you do but waste your time lingering here. Get on with you, Lord Hartley. Rescue your sister before a man who loves her can make her his wife. Then hurry back to London before all the wealthy heiresses are sto-

len out from under your nose. Be practical," she taunted him. "Time is wasting."

Harrison bided his time, but not easily. The quicktempered Miss Jinx Benchley was right. Time was wasting. He needed to be practical, he needed to be on his way. And yet something made him linger.

He'd ridden out of the gravel courtyard fronting the Benchleys' very odd manor home with its myriad turrets and steep roof walk. He made his way furiously beyond reach of the towering yew dragons, past the half-sized Dutch windmill, and the miniaturely proportioned replica of the classic Greek Pantheon. But once beyond the strange house and the collection of outlandish follies that dotted the otherwise serene landscape, he doubled back through the hunting park, his jaw grimly set, his frown securely in place. Now he waited, along with Rogers, his valet, to see what Miss High-and-Mighty Benchley was up to.