"No, I don't need money," Jack said with an injured air. "I might be gettin' on in years, but old Jack Mayne can still take care of himself. In fact, I recently came into a nice little nest."

"Which means you found a fat bird to pinch. You'd be wise not to forget that we're not on the same sides of the law."

"I'm not likely to forget." Jack gave him a broad wink. "Of course, yor the one on the wrong side."

"Just one of many things we disagree on."

"Indeed we do. Talented hands ye've got Gideon. I should know. I taught them everything I know."

"They are indeed talented-at catching criminals and sending them to Newgate. Why are you in London?"

"Heard tell of some fine opportunities here for a man with my gifts, and as ya can see…" He tugged on his lapels and grinned, "I heard right. Figured as long as I was here, I'd give ya a visit."

Gideon didn't have any doubt that Jack's "opportunity" was the sort that could result in a trip to Newgate. "If I hear you've done something, if I catch wind of anything, I-"

"Won't protect me," Jack said. "So you've said a hundred times. Well, I don't need yor protection, boy. And you'd have to go some to catch me doin' anything-if I were doin' anything."

"I'm glad you understand. Now, if you'll excuse me…" He shot a pointed look at the doorway.

"Is it off to work yor goin'…" Jack slanted his gaze toward the open portmanteau on the bed, "or on a holiday?"

"Work."

Jack nodded. "Yor a busy man. That's good." His brows shot up, and keen interest glittered in his eyes. "I don't suppose yor involved with the case everyone's talkin' about and that's been in the Times-that murderin' ghost robber? Now there's a clever bloke."

Gideon's instincts tingled. "Why do you ask?"

Jack gave a nonchalant shrug. "It's a fascinatin' story. Got any leads on who the bloke is?"

Gideon crossed to the bed and grabbed the scuffed leather satchel. "I have to go."

"Course you do," Jack said, nodding in an approving fashion. "Lots of criminals to catch around here, I'm sure."

Gideon looked him in the eyes. "Don't be one of them."

Something flickered in Jack's eyes, then he grinned. "Not to worry. Yor old da is still pretty spry."

Which, Gideon knew, meant Jack didn't think he'd get caught. But someday he would. And Gideon didn't want to have to be the one to catch him.

"I'll be seein' ya around, Son," Jack said. He tipped his hat, then turned on his heel and quit the room. Gideon walked to the doorway and watched as Jack, softly whistling under his breath, left the house.

It wasn't until the door closed behind him and Gideon was once again alone that he realized he'd been holding his breath and his hands were tightened into fists.

Having Jack Mayne gain access to his house and sneak up behind him was not a stellar way to start his day-a day he'd have to spend resisting, er, guarding Julianne.

Bloody hell, it was doing to be one damn long day.


* * *

Julianne stared at Johnny, trying to comprehend what he'd just said. And simply couldn't. "What do you mean you didn't come here last night?"

Johnny wiped the back of one dirty hand over his soot-smudged cheek. He was a strapping young man of two and twenty whose father had been delivering coal to the Grosvenor Square mansion for a decade. When his father passed away six months ago, Johnny had taken over the business. Now his gaze darted back and forth, obviously as anxious as she that they remain unseen and unheard in this recessed corner of the pantry where she'd pulled him.

"I'm awful sorry, milady," he said in an undertone. "My wife, she's been expectin' a baby, and don't ye know he had the bad timing to decide last night was when he wanted to be born. There were no one else to help her, and I couldn't leave. But I'll come tonight, I will, and make the moans and groans. Just like we'd planned."

Julianne felt as if the floor beneath her feet shifted. "You didn't come to the house last night," she said slowly, enunciating each word very carefully, watching his face.

Johnny looked at the ground and scuffed the toe of his dirty boot against the floor. Then he raised his chin. "No, milady. And 'tis real sorry I am."

"You didn't dress in a hooded robe and stand on my balcony?"

Johnny's mouth dropped open. "Glory be, milady. Wherever did ye get a daft idea like that?" His eyes widened, and he instantly looked abashed. "Beggin' yer pardon, I am."

She grasped his sleeves. "Did you write a note and leave it in my bedchamber?"

The young man's green eyes rounded to saucers. "Course not, milady. Why would I do such a thing? And 'tis not much of a letter writer I am."

She wanted to shake him, demand he tell her the truth, but she could see he was. Which meant…

Dear God, it meant that someone else had left the threatening note. Tried to gain access to her bedchamber. Someone with a knife.

A shudder of fear racked her, and she released Johnny to wrap her arms around herself to ward off the sudden chill gripping her. Who would do such a thing? And why? She recalled the crudely written words on the note, Yor next, and another chill ripped through her.

"Are ye all right, milady?" Johnny asked. "'Tis right pale yor lookin'."

"I'm fine," she lied.

"I'll come tonight. Swear I will."

Julianne frowned. She certainly didn't want to risk Johnny being hurt should last night's intruder return. "No. It's best if you don't."

"A promise is a promise, milady. Besides, with the new mouth to feed at home, I need the extra blunt." His eyes clouded with worry. "Ye'll still pay me if I come tonight instead of last night, won't ye?"

"I'll pay you for not coming tonight, or any other night." She reached in her pocket and slipped out two gold coins, which she pressed into Johnny's hand. Johnny opened his fist and gaped at his windfall. "For you. And your wife and baby."

"Thank ye, milady." He dashed off toward the servants' entrance, leaving Julianne alone.

Deeply disturbed, she exited the pantry and made her way up the servants' stairs to avoid walking through the kitchen where Mrs. Linquist would see her. After making certain she wasn't observed, she entered the corridor, smoothed her skirts, then made her way to the foyer.

"Your father wishes to see you at once, Lady Julianne," Winslow said as soon he saw her. "In his study."

Unable to speak around the lump of apprehension tightening her throat, Julianne merely nodded. She walked to the study on legs that felt heavy and wooden, then stood outside the door for nearly a minute before summoning her courage to knock. At her father's crisp order to enter, she opened the door and crossed the threshold. Her father glanced up from his desk then returned his gaze to whatever he was reading.

"Do you intend to simply stand there, or are you going to tell me what you want?" he asked in that frigid voice that only served to make her more tongue-tied in his presence.

Swallowing her trepidation, she approached his desk. When she stood before it, she moistened her lips then said, "Winslow said you wished to see me?"

"Yes. Regarding Mr. Mayne."

Dear God. His forbidding tone and expression loosened her knees. Since he hadn't invited her to sit, she gripped the back of the chair in front of her.

"I've hired him to guard both you and the house until this matter is settled or you're safely married to Eastling and on your way to Cornwall, whichever comes first," her father announced. He glanced up, and his icy blue gaze bored into her. "Your activities will be severely curtailed. If it is necessary for you to go anywhere, Mayne will accompany you. You will continue to sleep in the blue room, and Mayne will take over your bedchamber-in the hopes that whoever tried to gain entrance last night will do so again and be captured. Hopefully tonight, so we can put a swift end to this nonsense." His gaze took on another layer of frost. "That is the way it is to be, and I'll not hear any arguments about it."

It took several seconds for his words to sink in. When they finally did, her heart soared. She looked down at the carpet to hide the triumph and elation she feared glowed in her eyes. "Yes, Father," she murmured, hoping she sounded sufficiently abashed.

"I don't want you discussing this matter, nor do I want His Grace getting wind of it. If he even suspected some knife-wielding hooligan might be after you, he'd no doubt cry off, and I'll be damned if I'll allow that to happen."

"Did you tell Mr. Mayne of my engagement?"

"Naturally. He had to be made aware of how imperative it is that nothing happen to you."

A bit of her elation evaporated. How had Gideon taken the news? Was he angry she hadn't told him herself? Or did he simply not care? She considered appealing to her father to reconsider the marriage but knew it was useless. Any entreaty would only fall on deaf ears. Nothing would disrupt her father's business arrangement with the duke. Instead she asked, "Will… will Mr. Mayne be dining with us?"

A look of pure distaste swam across her father's features. "Certainly not. He doesn't have the proper clothes or manners for the dining room. You'll be perfectly safe with your mother and me during dinner. Mr. Mayne will eat in the kitchen with the rest of the hired help."

Julianne's fingers knotted in her gown, and she pressed her lips together to hold back the flood of arguments she wished to present.

"Mr. Mayne is to accompany you everywhere," her father continued, "therefore don't get it into your foolish head to go haring off alone. Given the situation, it’s probably best you remain at home today and this evening." He frowned. "Eastling's soiree is tomorrow night, and you’ll need to attend. But for today, you're to remain here."