A simple, irrefutable statement, yet the depth of its truth hit him like a blow to the head. He would forfeit his own life if necessary to keep her safe. A realization that stilled him. And stunned him.

"As we're all aware of your expertise, that is a huge relief, Mr. Mayne," murmured Lady Surbrooke. She smiled at him, clearly an acknowledgment of his assistance in solving the case two months ago that had threatened her life, and he nodded in return.

They resumed conversing among themselves, and with relief Gideon continued his inching progress toward the doorway. Her friends demanded details of last night's ordeal, which Julianne provided, along with a recitation that made him sound like some sort of hero.

"Mr. Mayne was so brave, and very intrepid, searching and securing the house and grounds in spite of the foul weather," she said, sending a smile in his direction, and he once again found himself the cynosure of all eyes.

"I'd be more worthy of praise had I caught the culprit," he felt compelled to point out, although he couldn't deny that warmth spread through him at her complimentary words.

"Surely you didn't spend the entire night outdoors," Lady Langston said. "Why, you could have caught your death of chill."

"He stayed indoors with me until my parents arrived home," Julianne said.

"Precisely where he needed to be to insure your safety," Lady Surbrooke said with an approving nod.

"Yes, thank goodness you were about, Mr. Mayne," added Lady Emily.

They again resumed chatting among themselves, and he quickly stepped to the doorway. He didn't intend to listen to them, but it was impossible not to. Their long-standing friendship was evident in the way they spoke-finishing each other's sentences, the warmth and teasing and concern in their voices.

Winslow appeared bearing a silver tea service, followed by Ethan the footman, who carried a food-laden tray. Gideon breathed deeply as the tray filled with biscuits and assorted little tarts and cakes went by just under his nose. The scent of vanilla-her scent-filled his head. His mouth watered, and his body tightened in response.

"Please join us, Mr. Mayne," Julianne said.

"Oh, yes, please do," seconded Lady Langston. He wondered if he looked as wary as he felt, because she added, "We don't bite."

"At least not very often," Julianne added.

Deciding they looked harmless enough and that one cup of tea and a biscuit or two couldn't hurt, Gideon joined the ladies, settling himself in the wing chair opposite Julianne. He looked around the group and realized that Julianne's three friends were studying him with a great deal of interest. He fought the sudden urge to squirm in his seat.

"I've never been to a ladies' tea party before," he said, trying to fill the silence while accepting his cup and saucer from Julianne with a nod. "I'm not quite certain what to do."

"It's very simple," Julianne said with a smile, handing him a plate containing several biscuits and small cakes. "You sip tea, nibble on cakes, chat about the weather, then talk about things you're not supposed to."

Her smile was captivating, and he had to force himself not to stare. He noted how at ease she clearly felt in the company of her friends, not exhibiting the shyness he'd observed in her during larger gatherings and parties.

"And what sort of things are ladies not supposed to discuss?" he asked, hoping to keep the conversation diverted from his investigation.

"Anything that isn't the weather," Lady Emily said, wrinkling her nose. "You won't tell on us, will you, Mr. Mayne?"

If Gideon had to sum up Lady Emily in one word, it would be mischievous. "I suppose that depends on what you reveal, Lady Emily," he said in a perfectly serious tone. "If it's too salacious, I might have to turn you over to the magistrate."

Lady Emily's eyes lit up. "Really? How ghastly!"

"Don't encourage her," Julianne said, continuing to serve the tea. "She'd no doubt enjoy such an outing."

"I absolutely would," Lady Emily confirmed. "I would shamefully exploit my newfound friendship with the magistrate and enlist his help in controlling my hooligan younger brothers."

"Shall I toss them in Newgate for you?" Gideon asked casually.

"A splendid idea," Lady Emily agreed. "Although we probably should wait a few years. Little Arthur is only seven, after all."

"Perhaps when he's nine," Gideon agreed.

Lady Emily sent him a dazzling smile that he was certain knocked most men flat. "Perhaps you're not as dour as I thought, Mr. Mayne."

"Perhaps you're more bloodthirsty than I thought, Lady Emily."

The ladies all laughed. "You see?" Lady Langston said with a smile, nudging up her spectacles with her index finger. "You find out the most fascinating things at tea parties."

Ten minutes later, Gideon couldn't disagree with that statement. During that time he learned that Julianne's friends were charming, intelligent, amusing, and witty and that the Gatesbourne kitchen produced the most delicious tarts and cakes he'd ever tasted. They chatted about the robberies and murders, all of them expressing sympathy and horror over Lady Daltry's death. They asked him a few questions, but as he didn't have any information to give them, their conversation moved on to other topics. As was his habit, he sat back and listened, studying the group over the rim of his cup.

"Mr. Mayne is awfully quiet," Lady Surbrooke commented, her gaze resting on him with an expression he couldn't decipher.

"I fear I've nothing constructive to add to a debate concerning whether ostrich or peacock feathers are a more becoming decoration on one's turban."

"Then we must change the subject," Lady Emily said. Her eyes took on a devilish glint. "Tell me, Mr. Mayne, are you fond of reading?"

Bloody hell, he didn't want to turn this party into an interview. Indeed, it was time he resumed his post at the door. He set aside his plate, intending to rise. "I am, but-"

"Have you read The Ghost of Devonshire Manor?" asked Lady Emily.

Gideon heard Julianne's small gasp and turned toward her, noting the twin flags of color marking her cheeks, an interesting reaction to be sure. So interesting that he resettled himself in his chair. "No, I haven't. Is it a book you'd recommend?"

"I'm certain Mr. Mayne wouldn't care for it in the least," Julianne said, shooting her friend a repressive look.

"It's really the sort of story that would appeal more to a woman," agreed Lady Surbrooke, who, Gideon noted, was also blushing.

"And why is that?" Gideon asked, finding this entire exchange fascinating.

"Oh, well, you know," Lady Langston murmured, her face even pinker than her sister's. "It's a love story."

"The title suggests it's a ghost story," Gideon said.

"A love story about a ghost," Julianne said, her complexion resembling a setting sun. "Very girly. All very silly, actually. Who would like some more tea?"

"I would," said Lady Langston and Lady Surbrooke in unison, while Lady Emily unsuccessfully tried to squelch a smile.

The talk turned back to the murders and, as Gideon had no desire to be interrogated by Julianne's overly curious friends, he rose. "If you ladies will excuse me for a few minutes, I'll see to Caesar." He turned to Julianne. "I'll be right outside, on the terrace. If you need me, just call." He gave a soft whistle, and Caesar trotted over to him. Princess Buttercup followed as far as her satin pillow, then jumped onto her soft throne and with a sigh closed her eyes, presumably to nap until the love of her life returned.

Gideon opened the French windows leading to the terrace. Caesar trotted through the opening, then dashed down the flagstone steps leading to the garden. Gideon closed the door behind him, glancing into the room. His gaze met Julianne's through the glass, and for several seconds he couldn't move. Could only stare. And try his damnedest to tamp down the flood of wants that surged through him. With an effort he turned away and moved to the edge of the terrace, where he pulled in some much-needed breaths of fresh, cool air. He risked one quick peek over his shoulder and noted that the four women had scooted nearer to each other. Their heads were bent close together, obviously in whispered, furtive conversation.

Alarm bells clanged in his head. What the bloody hell were they talking about?


* * *

Julianne pulled her gaze away from the French windows through which Gideon had just departed. And found three pairs of wide eyes staring at her.

"Oh my heavens," Emily said.

"Oh my Lord," murmured Carolyn.

"Oh my, oh my, oh my," whispered Sarah.

Julianne wasn't precisely sure why, but heat rushed into her cheeks, and she quickly reached for the teapot. Emily forestalled her by gently grabbing her hand. "How can you possibly think of tea at a time like this?"

"A time like this?" Julianne repeated. "You mean the murders?"

"I mean that man," Emily whispered, jerking her head toward the terrace. "Did you not see the way he looked at you?"

Julianne tried her best to keep her features blank, but she wasn't certain she succeeded or if it even mattered, given the heat scorching her cheeks. "What do you mean?"

Carolyn scooted closer and leaned in. "She means that Mr. Mayne clearly finds you… attractive."

Sarah made a snorting sound. "Well, of course he would find her attractive. Good God, what man wouldn't? What Emily means is that he clearly finds you more than just merely attractive." She waved her hand in front of her face. "The heat you two generated was enough to steam the air."