"Is that bawdy enough for you?" he asked, a hint of amusement lurking in his voice.

"Yes, that will do nicely," she replied in her most prudish voice. "Do you intend to sing it, or must I guess at the words?"

He raised a dark brow. "Has anyone ever told you you're impudent?"

"Has anyone ever told you you're impossible?"

"No."

"Fine. I shall stand alone in my opinion. Now sing."

"Fine." He cleared his throat then began, "Down went my hand in her bodice top, to visit her sweet apple dumpin' shop-"

His rendition was cut off by a mournful howl from the doorway. Julianne smothered a laugh and watched him shoot a glare at Caesar, whose doleful bay tapered off into silence.

"As if you could do better," he muttered to the dog. He then cleared his throat and continued, "Her apples were so plump and merry, and on the top there was a cherry-"

Another deep, mournful howl, this one accompanied by a high-pitched one courtesy of Princess Buttercup, cut off his song. He shot the dogs a scowl surely meant to send them both slinking from the room with their tails between their legs. But instead their tails wagged as they clearly thought this was a grand game. Julianne covered her mouth with her hand to contain her merriment and his gaze snapped to her.

"Are you laughing?" he asked, sounding more than a little threatening.

"Certainly not," she said with as much dignity as she could muster, considering her insides were quivering with suppressed mirth. "I'm merely wondering how a woman's breast could be 'merry.'"

"I've no idea. I didn't write the song. Now, do you want to hear the rest of it or not?"

"Heavens, you sound… petulant."

"Bow Street Runners are never petulant. I am, however, becoming annoyed. I'm trying to live up to my end of our deal, yet I'm thwarted by critics"-he shot another glare at the dogs in the doorway-"at every turn."

"I think they just want to sing along."

"Which is a problem as dogs cannot sing."

"Hmmm. I think they might say the same about you, Mr. Mayne."

He turned back to her and narrowed his eyes. "Are you casting aspersions on my bawdy song, Lady Julianne? A song, I must remind you, that you insisted I teach you?"

"Not at all. But perhaps if you sang a bit softer…"

He heaved a put-upon sigh. "Very well. Now, where was I?"

"You'd just waxed poetic about her breast being merry."

"Ah, yes. And topped with a cherry." He cleared his throat and sang, more softly, "Nothing in the world could feel so right, as to lean my face in and take a bite-"

Caesar's barking cut off the words this time. Seconds later Winslow appeared in the doorway, his normally implacable features filled with alarm. "Is everything all right, Lady Julianne?" he asked. "I heard the most awful caterwauling. As if someone had dropped an anvil on their toe."

"Everything is fine, Winslow. It was merely Mr. Mayne singing."

Gideon shot her the same glare he'd bestowed upon the dogs. "Actually, it was merely the dogs howling."

"Yes-howling because Mr. Mayne was singing. Nothing to be concerned about. You may return to your post."

"Yes, my lady."

After Winslow departed, Julianne turned to Gideon. "Perhaps you should sing even more softly."

"If I sing any softer, you won't hear a thing."

He glared. "Very funny. Has anyone ever told you you're extremely humorous?" Before she could answer he said, "No-I didn't think so." He crossed his arms over his chest and asked in a testy tone, "Do you want to hear the rest of the song or not?"

"I do."

"Fine. Here we go, and this time I'm not stopping."

True to his promise, he continued singing the outrageous song, accompanied by Caesar and Princess Buttercup. Julianne tried to pick out the melody on the piano, but she was laughing so hard she had to abandon the effort. By the time the song hit its last jarring, discordant note, tears of mirth were running down her face.

"How was that?" Gideon asked, looking both proud and smug.

"There… there simply aren't words," she managed to gasp out, wiping her eyes.

"Glad you enjoyed it."

"Oh, I did. I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard." She smiled up at him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. And now that my debt of honor is paid, I shall expect to be equally as entertained."

"I cannot possibly top that performance. Has anyone ever told you you can't sing worth a jot?"

"No one who's lived to repeat the sentiment. Has anyone ever told you you've an impertinent tongue?"

"No. Most people believe I am shy and aloof. And perfectly ladylike at all times."

"Clearly most people don't know you well."

She nodded and looked into his beautiful dark eyes. And caught her breath at the humor lurking in their depths. She couldn't recall the last time she'd felt so carefree. "Most people don't know me at all," she said softly.

He stilled, and she watched fire flare in his gaze, melting all hints of amusement. His gaze dipped to her mouth, and for several seconds she couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and the air between them seemed to crackle. Then he blinked, as if coming out of a trance, and stepped back. Then turned to stare out the window.

Julianne had to draw in several breaths before she could speak. "Do… do you wish for me to teach you your song now? Or would you prefer to do something else?"

His gaze snapped back to hers. The smoldering heat in his eyes burned her. The secret place between her legs that he'd awakened last night throbbed, and she pressed her thighs together, an action that only served to further inflame the insistent ache.

He appeared about to speak when another woof sounded from the doorway. Seconds later Winslow appeared, bearing a silver salver upon which a trio of calling cards rested. "You've visitors, my lady," he said. "Are you in?"

Julianne took the cards, slowly scanning the names to give herself a few seconds to recover, then smiled. "Yes, of course. Please show them in."

"One moment," Gideon said, approaching her, his demeanor all business. Completely gone was the teasing, amusing man. "Who is here?"

"My friends Emily, Sarah, and Carolyn."

None of the tension seemed to leave him. He gave a tight nod. "All right."

Julianne turned back to Winslow. "Please arrange for tea and refreshments for us."

"Yes, my lady," Winslow said, then quit the room.

Gideon moved to the doorway and issued a soft command to Caesar that Julianne could not hear. Then he and the dog stepped back, with Princess Buttercup joining them. Seconds later, her friends filed into the room, sending Princess Buttercup into a frenzy of tail wagging and joyful yips. Caesar remained at Gideon's side, his nose quivering as he appraised each newcomer. There was no missing her friends' surprise at seeing Gideon.

"Mr. Mayne, what are you doing here?" Sarah asked in her no-nonsense way. Her gaze jumped to Julianne. "Is something wrong?"

Julianne recalled her father's request that she not speak of last night's incident for fear of the duke finding out. But as far as she was concerned, if the duke found out and decided he didn't want to marry her because of it…

"Nothing-" Gideon began.

"Someone with a knife tried to enter my bedchamber last night through my balcony window," she said in a rush. "Father has hired Mr. Mayne to protect me and hopefully catch the scoundrel."

Gideon barely refrained from groaning. Bloody hell, leave it to a woman to blab out details she shouldn't. Her father would not be pleased, especially if the duke caught wind of it. Although Gideon couldn't deny that he personally didn't give a rat's arse if either Gatesbourne or His Grace were displeased. And with the way servants gossiped, the entire ton would no doubt hear of the incident within a day or two anyway.

For several seconds there was stunned silence, then all four women began talking at once. They moved as a unit toward the settee and chairs by the fireplace, a rainbow of muslin gowns and chattering voices. Gideon inched his way into the background, doing everything a man over six feet tall could to remain as invisible as possible. He didn't want to answer a plethora of questions about the investigation, nor did he wish to listen to four women chat about all the things that upper-class women were wont to discuss: the weather and the shops, bonnets, parties, and all manner of feminine fripperies.

Yet surely this unexpected hen party was good. The interruption came at a moment when he'd found himself nearly drowning in his want for Julianne. Still, at the same time he felt strangely trapped in this room with four women, who-

Were all looking at him with expectant expressions.

Bloody hell.

"Don't you agree, Mr. Mayne?" asked Lady Langston, pushing up her spectacles.

"Agree?"

"That this talk of the criminal being a ghost is nothing but rubbish?"

A sensible female-thank God. "Of course it's rubbish. This man is very real. And very dangerous."

"Are you certain the person you seek is a 'he' and not a 'she'?" asked Lady Surbrooke. "After all, women can be just as evil as men."

"Indeed they can," Gideon agreed, "and while I would not eliminate someone as a suspect based solely on their gender, I believe our murderer and thief is a man."

Lady Emily's intense gaze bored into his. "You will of course make certain nothing happens to our beloved Julianne."

His gaze shifted to Julianne, who sat on the settee. Bloody hell, she looked so damn lovely, and her eyes seemed to just… swallow him. He dragged his attention back to Lady Emily. "I will not allow any harm to come to her."