"I won't have you skulking in the corridor, Mr. Mayne, where anyone might see you," the countess said, looking down her nose at him-quite a feat as he was easily a foot taller than her. "It is ridiculous to think any harm could come to Julianne during the fitting." She nodded toward the next door. "You may wait in the library. There is an adjoining door between the two rooms should an emergency arise." Without another word she grabbed Julianne's arm, opened the door, and propelled her daughter inside. She then followed like a ship under full sail. As she proclaimed in a singsong voice, "Here is the bride-to-be, Madame," she closed the door in Gideon's face.

Gideon glared at the oak panel with enough heat to set it ablaze. Then he pulled in a deep, calming breath and set about his business. After giving Caesar a brief respite outdoors, Gideon entered the library. Crossing the fancy carpet, he grasped the back of a chair and carried it with him, setting it close to the wall. Then he turned the knob of the adjoining door and cracked it open. A French-accented feminine voice drifted through the crack "Zee gown, eet is perfection."

Satisfied, he settled in his chair, Caesar at his feet. Princess Buttercup jumped onto his lap and, after turning in several circles, found a comfortable spot and snuggled in. With his fingers lightly petting the small dog, Gideon leaned closer to the door to listen. And wait.

Two hours later, during which time the weather had been discussed at length and the countess had plied Madame Renee with countless questions regarding her exclusive clientele, the dressmaker and her seamstress finally took their leave. To which Gideon could only say thank God. A soft knock sounded on the cracked door, and it was pushed slowly open. Julianne stuck her head through the opening and offered him a rueful smile.

"You managed to remain awake through all that?" she asked.

"I did," he said. Barely, which he didn't add. He glanced down at the tiny dog asleep on his lap. "Princess Buttercup, however, isn't made of such stern stuff."

"That's why she's named Princess Buttercup, as opposed to Captain Canonball."

"I see. What is next on your agenda for today?"

Before she could answer, the door leading from the corridor opened, and the countess entered. "Lords Penniwick, Beechmore, and Walston are here to see you," she said to Julianne, completely ignoring Gideon, who scooped up Princess Buttercup and stood.

Julianne frowned. "Me? Whatever for?"

Annoyance flashed in the countess's eyes, eyes Gideon noticed were the same stunning blue as Julianne's. But her mother's lacked warmth and kindness and any hint of vulnerability-all the things that made Julianne's eyes so extraordinary.

"They are suitors, Julianne," the countess said, her voice laced with impatience. "Naturally they're going to call upon you."

"Even though I'm to marry the duke?" Hope flared in her expression. "Or am I not to marry him?"

"Of course you're going to marry the duke. However, until the papers are signed and the formal announcement is made at our party next week, the other suitors are not to be discouraged." A cunning look settled over the countess's features. "It is good for His Grace to know that other gentlemen remain interested. And besides, if some tragedy were to befall the duke before the final arrangements were in place, we wouldn't want to have discouraged all the other suitors prematurely."

In spite of the fact that Gideon could easily name a number of tragedies he wouldn't mind befalling the duke, his stomach turned at the cold, dispassionate sentiment behind the countess's words.

The countess turned to Gideon. "I can see by your expression that you think to be present during Julianne's visit with her suitors."

"Yes. Especially since one of those suitors could be the man we're looking for."

The countess looked affronted. "Ridiculous. They're gentlemen. And I'll not have you interfering."

Gideon's gaze pierced hers. "And I'll not have anyone preventing me from doing the job I was hired to do. Clearly you need to be reminded, Countess, that if any harm comes to Lady Julianne, there won't be a wedding at all. To anyone."

The countess looked as if she wished to argue further but instead said, "Although I'd planned to use the drawing room, I suppose I can have the gentlemen shown into my sitting room next door. You may remain here, out of sight, and keep the adjoining door ajar as you did earlier. I will remain with Julianne throughout the visit." She raised her chin. "And that will simply have to do, Mr. Mayne."

Gideon's gaze didn't waver. "Only on the condition that Caesar remain in the sitting room, next to Lady Julianne, throughout the visit."

The countess shot Caesar a dubious look but acquiesced. "Very well. Come along, Julianne."

They entered the sitting room through the adjoining door, and Gideon followed with Caesar. After giving the dog instructions to guard, he returned to his chair in the library. A moment later, Winslow announced the three gentlemen. After the initial pleasantries were exchanged, one of the men, whose voice Gideon recognized as belonging to Penniwick, said, "I say, Lady Julianne, that's quite a large dog you have there." A nervous laugh. "He looks capable of biting off a limb or two."

"He's actually capable of ripping out one's throat," Julianne said, sounding so cheerful Gideon had to smile. "We thought it best to have some extra protection, given the rash of crimes lately, didn't we, Mother?"

"Oh, um, yes." The countess adroitly changed the subject to the weather, and for the next quarter hour Gideon listened to blah, blah, weather, blah, blah, fox hunt, blah, blah, party. Good God. It was all so excruciatingly polite. So excruciatingly boring. No wonder Julianne chafed against the stringent class rules that confined her. He looked over at Princess Buttercup, asleep on a satin pillow near the fireplace, oblivious to all the blah, blah. That was one damn lucky dog.

Just when he thought he would have to endure more meaningless blather, Julianne asked, "What do you gentlemen think of these dreadful murders and robberies? Have you any theories as to who might be responsible?"

Gideon moved quickly and applied his eye to the crack in the door. All three gentlemen looked surprised at the question. Penniwick, Gideon noted, appeared… fidgety?

"Really, Julianne," the countess said with a false-sounding laugh. "No one wants to discuss such unpleasantness."

"I don't mind," Beechmore said, making Gideon wonder if he was also deathly bored of speaking of the weather. "Obviously the culprit is a very clever fellow not to have been caught so far."

"He's a fool, if you ask me," said Lord Walston. "Surely he must know he'll get caught eventually."

"Not if he's careful," said Penniwick in a brusque voice.

"No clues have been found, no suspects named."

"Perhaps there have been clues found that the authorities haven't reported," Julianne said.

Gideon watched all three men's reactions. Beechmore seem surprised, Walston confused, and Penniwick again fidgeted.

"That's enough of such a dreadful subject," the countess broke in with an exaggerated shudder, shooting her daughter a warning look. "Would you gentlemen like tea?"

They refused, and a few moments later took their leave. As the countess showed them out, Julianne approached the adjoining door. "Did you glean anything from their reactions when I mentioned the murders?"

"Perhaps. That was clever of you."

"I'm not the nincompoop everyone seems to think I am."

"I've never thought you were a nincompoop." His lips twitched. "I thought you were a spoiled princess."

A grin lurked around her lips. "Yes, I know. Although you'd best be careful, as such flowery words might swell my head."

"I said I thought you were a spoiled princess. I no longer do."

Although it looked as if she wanted to question him, she merely murmured, "I'm glad."

Just then the countess sailed across the threshold and fixed her angry gaze on her daughter. "Really, Julianne, you are such a trial. Why on earth would you bring up the murders?"

"I thought it would be helpful to Mr. Mayne to hear how the gentlemen responded."

"And it was helpful," Gideon added. "Thank you, Lady Julianne."

"Well, I won't have it. Lord Haverly is here, and there will be no talk of murders or robberies during his visit. He's brought that American, Mr. Jennsen, with him. I suppose we'll have to entertain him as well, although why he's here, I cannot imagine. He certainly couldn't think himself in any way suitable for an earl's daughter."

With that, the countess swept back into the sitting room with an imperious, "Come along, Julianne."

Gideon watched through the crack in the door for the duration of Haverly's and Jennsen's mercifully brief visit. Jennsen didn't say much, and Gideon found himself very curious as to why the American was here. And with Haverly. His curiosity was satisfied within moments of their departure from the sitting room. Gideon planned to wait in the library until Haverly and Jennsen left, but a moment later, a knock sounded. At his bid to enter, Winslow entered.

"Mr. Jennsen would like to see you. Shall I send him in?"

"Please. But first, where is Lady Julianne?"

"The dining room, with the countess, for their midday meal. Caesar is with them."

Gideon nodded. Jennsen entered a moment later and crossed the room to extend his hand to Gideon. "I waited for Haverly to leave before I asked to see you," Jennsen said.