Gideon mulled that over. Was it possible it hadn't been suicide? Had the duke had a hand in his young wife's demise? But why would he? The death had been ruled a suicide, a note had been left, and losing a child was certainly something that could send a woman into a deep melancholy. Gideon knew from experience that people often couldn't credit that their loved one would end their own life. But why would she shoot herself if she were afraid of firearms? Was he casting a suspicious eye on the duke because the man deserved it? Or was he allowing his personal dislike and jealousy of the man who would marry Julianne to color his thinking? He hated the thought of that bastard touching her, of cheating on her, but that didn't make the man a murderer. In truth, Gideon hated the thought of any man touching her.

Unable to come up with any answers, he instead asked, "What about Penniwick?"

"He'll apparently tup anything that stands still long enough. Has fathered a number of by-blows. Found the mother of one of them. A former mistress he deserted when she became pregnant. Apparently Penniwick refused to acknowledge he was responsible. She claims the child is his and couldn't be anyone else's. She also claims Penniwick stole two bracelets and a necklace from her."

Gideon's brows raised at this interesting piece of news. "Did she report the thefts?"

Henry shook his head. "No. The pieces were paste, although she says Penniwick didn't know they were. She decided the laugh was on him." Henry folded his paper and tucked it into his waistcoat.

"What about Lord Walston?"

Henry shook his head. "Couldn't find the slightest whiff of scandal or bad behavior about the man."

Gideon's brows rose. "Nothing?"

"Nothing. From all the praise I heard of him, he's a candidate for sainthood."

"Which means there must be something."

"Exactly. Don't worry. I'll find it. Just need to dig a bit deeper."

"And Logan Jennsen?"

"Another one I'll need to dig deeper on. Heard rumors of some scandal in America, but no details as of yet."

Gideon cleared his throat. "Anything on Jack Mayne?" He'd added the name to the bottom of list, dreading any information but needing to know.

Henry looked decidedly uncomfortable. "You, um, know he's, um…"

"A thief. Yes. Tell me something I don't know. Like what he's been up to lately and why he's in London."

There was no missing Henry's relief that he wasn't shattering some pristine image a son might have of his father. "Haven't found anything other than that, but I'll keep lookin'."

After thanking Henry, Gideon escorted him to the foyer. He then climbed the stairs, intent on checking on Caesar. When he turned into the corridor leading to Julianne's bedchamber, he halted.

Caesar lay on his back, his left back paw twitching in delight as Julianne, who knelt beside the beast, gave his belly a vigorous rub. Caesar was making sounds that Gideon guessed were the canine equivalent of Bloody hell, that feels so good. Princess Buttercup lay sprawled on her stomach, her tiny front paws set possessively on Caesar's tail.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" Julianne crooned.

Caesar made an answering sound that surely translated to I do, I do, I do. Please don't ever stop.

Gideon found himself pressing his hand against his own stomach. He vividly recalled the incredible feel of her hands caressing him there. And thinking, Please don't ever stop.

Just then she looked up, and their eyes met. Everything inside him stilled-except his heart, which seemed to hiccup then double its normal rate. Images from last night bombarded him, tying his tongue in knots, rendering him for several seconds unable to do anything except stare. And want. With a soul-deep ache.

Her gaze slid away, and he realized he'd been holding his breath. After giving Caesar a final pat, she stood and offered Gideon a formal nod and a serious expression. "Good morning, Mr. Mayne."

An acute sense of loss washed through him. Damn it, he didn't want to be Mr. Mayne. He wanted to be Gideon. He wanted to be smiled at. He wanted-

Things he couldn't have.

She was perfectly right, putting things back on a formal level between them. Obviously she'd accepted his decision, which was good. Excellent. His mind, his common sense knew it, yet he still felt unreasonably displeased.

Caesar jumped to his feet and trotted over to Gideon, followed closely by his furry white shadow who today was adorned in a glittering collar and a pair of bright yellow ear bows. After greeting both dogs, which was returned sedately by Caesar and most effusively by Princess Buttercup, Gideon returned his attention to Julianne and said, "Good morning." He couldn't quite bring himself to formally call her Lady Julianne.

He didn't bother to ask if she'd slept well. He could see by the violet shadows beneath her eyes that she hadn't. Her eyes…bloody hell, looking into them actually hurt. They reminded him of a flame that had been doused with water-utterly extinguished of light. Indeed, her eyes held such a bleak expression it was all he could do to refrain from snatching her into his arms and telling her everything would be all right.

But that would be a lie. And no lie would change the truth of their impossible situation.

"I take it there were no disturbances during the night?" she asked.

"None."

And of course they both knew what that meant: that he would remain here to watch over her. Another awkward silence stretched between them. Finally she said, "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Mayne, I'll continue to the dining room for breakfast."

"I'll escort you."

She merely nodded and began walking. As she passed him, the scent of vanilla teased his senses, and his fingers curled inward. With a low whistle to Caesar, Gideon fell into step beside her. The only sound as they moved along the corridor was the rustling of Julianne's gown. They were halfway down the long, curved staircase when Julianne's mother entered the foyer and asked Winslow, "Has my daughter shown herself yet?"

Before the butler could answer, Julianne said, "I'm here, Mother," and hurried the rest of the way down the stairs.

"Finally," the countess said, her gaze raking over Julianne and looking none too pleased. Her attention flicked to Gideon. "Mr. Mayne. Did you capture the hooligan who tried to rob us?"

Gideon noted he was the hooligan "who tried to rob us" rather than the hooligan who'd threatened their daughter. "I'm afraid the hooligan is still at large," he said in a cool voice. "However, the good news is that no further attempt was made on your daughter's life, and she is safe."

The countess's eyes narrowed. "And you will make sure she remains so."

"Yes, I will."

Clearly satisfied that her wishes would be carried out, she returned her attention to Julianne. "Your gowns have just arrived from Madame Renee's."

"Gowns?" Julianne asked, sounding puzzled. "More than one?"

"Yes. By virtue of the exorbitant bonus I paid her, Madame was able to complete enough work on your wedding gown to send it along for its first fitting. Isn't that marvelous news?" Not waiting for an answer to what she clearly considered a rhetorical question, the countess continued, "Madame herself is here to oversee the fitting. She awaits us in my private sitting room. Come along." She turned and headed toward the corridor, clearly expecting Julianne to follow.

"Lady Julianne was just about to eat breakfast," Gideon said, stepping in front of Julianne to block her progress.

The silence in the foyer was deafening. The countess turned and looked at him as if he'd sprouted a third eyeball in the center of his forehead. If he hadn't been so irritated, Gideon would have laughed at her expression.

"I believe you've quite forgotten yourself, Mr. Mayne," the countess said coldly. "Julianne can breakfast after her fittings."

"And how long will these fittings take?"

"It doesn't matter," Julianne said, stepping around him to wade into the tension. "I'm really not hungry."

"If she doesn't eat," Gideon said, his gaze steady on the countess, "she could become weak. Ill. She might even swoon at the party tonight."

The countess's lips puckered as if she'd bit into a lemon. "We can't have that." She heaved a sigh. "I'll arrange for some biscuits you can nibble during the fitting, Julianne. Of course, if you'd arisen earlier, we could have avoided this. Come along now."

She swept into the corridor, and Julianne followed, with Gideon right behind her. When they reached the door to the sitting room, the countess stopped and frowned at Gideon. "What are you doing?" she asked in a hushed voice, her hand on the brass knob.

"I am accompanying Lady Julianne, thus insuring her safety."

"You cannot mean to come to the fitting."

"I most certainly do."

The countess's eyes flashed, and she sizzled a look at him clearly meant to incinerate him on the spot. "Well, you cannot. A man at a fitting is completely beyond the pale. Besides, if you were there, Madame would have nothing but questions, and we want to keep this unpleasantness as contained as possible."

Gideon had to bite his tongue to keep from telling her that she was clearly the authority on "unpleasantness." He personally didn't care if Madame asked questions or if the countess was displeased. But as he didn't want to make things any more unpleasant for Julianne, he turned to her and said, "I'll be right outside this door. If you need anything or have a problem, you call for me."