He allowed his gaze to drift back to Julianne. As she'd promised, she hadn't left his sight, a bittersweet blessing as it was nearly impossible not to stare at her every second. He watched her now, standing with her mother, who appeared displeased about something, which didn't surprise Gideon in the least. Had the woman ever been pleased about anything? Someone claimed the countess's attention, and she turned away from Julianne. It seemed as if a shudder ran through Julianne, and in the space of a heartbeat Gideon was at her side. Touching her arm, he drew her a few feet farther away from her mother. "Are you all right?" he asked in an undertone.

"I'm fine. Just felt a bit of a chill."

"Do you need a wrap?"

She offered him a smile. "No, thank you." Then she leaned just a bit closer… close enough for him to catch a tantalizing whiff of her delicious vanilla scent. "Stop glowering. Anyone watching will think I've made you angry."

He wiped his expression clean. "I wasn't glowering."

"Very well. You were merely frowning strenuously."

"Has anyone ever told you you're very cheeky?"

Amusement bloomed in her eyes, the first he'd seen all evening, and it filled him with a warmth he couldn't put a name to. "Never. I'm delighted you think so. I've always wanted to be a cheeky sort of girl."

He frowned. "I wasn't being complimentary."

"You most certainly were. And you're glowering again."

Again he smoothed out his features. "You're feeling better." On the surface, at least, although not deep down, he suspected.

"Talking to Sarah earlier helped. She is a good listener and a steadfast friend. Thank you for sending for her."

"You're welcome. I would-" He pressed his lips together to cut off his unguarded words. "Go back to your mother. I'm going to return to my post."

She stayed him by touching his arm. "What were you going to say, Gideon?"

For the space of a single heartbeat his gaze touched hers, and it took all his will not to touch her. Instead he forced himself to return to his pillar. Once there he drew in a much-needed deep breath, then resumed scanning the room. Almost immediately he saw the duke, who was just entering the drawing room. Once again he appeared slightly out of breath, and Gideon's hands fisted. He was torn between watching the doorway to see which woman would walk in and watching the duke, who approached the musicians. After several minutes passed, however, no one else had entered through the doorway His Grace had used, and the musicians struck up a waltz.

Gideon watched in an agony of futile jealousy as the duke escorted Julianne to the dance floor. Bastard didn't deserve to even touch her. Hands clenched, he recalled every moment in her arms as she'd taught him the dance-a skill he would never have the opportunity to share with her at a party.

He was vaguely aware of the other couples swirling around the floor, but his gaze remained attached to Julianne and her future husband. The duke was as smooth as Gideon had been clumsy, leading Julianne expertly around the room. And the way the man was looking at her…bloody hell, the bastard's eyes didn't look cold now. The heated glint in them made Gideon clench his teeth.

"Bastard is looking at her like she's candy, and he has a craving for sugar," muttered Logan.

Gideon's brows raised, and he slanted a look at Jennsen. The other man was staring at the dance floor, his face resembling a storm cloud. Well, bloody hell. Was Jennsen simply outraged on Julianne's behalf, or was there something more to this?

"Yes, but she is beautiful, and they're soon to be married-"

Jennsen's head snapped around so fast, Gideon swore he heard the man's neck crack. "Married?" he repeated, staring at Gideon. "Are you certain?"

Bloody hell. Could Jennsen be harboring an attraction for Julianne? If it weren't for the fact that it only served to increase Gideon's jealousy, he might almost feel sympathy toward him. "Yes. The duke is going to make the announcement tonight."

Logan frowned. "The duke? Why would he make the announcement?"

Gideon discreetly sniffed, wondering if Jennsen might be foxed, but he didn't discern any scent of spirits about him. "Because the duke is the man Lady Julianne is going to marry."

"Lady Julianne?" For several seconds he stared at Gideon with an utterly blank expression. Then, to Gideon's amazement, color rushed into the American's cheeks. "Oh, um, yes. Of course." He gave a laugh that sounded decidedly forced. "If you'll excuse me, Mayne, there's something I must attend to." With no further explanation, he moved off. Gideon's attention returned to the dance floor, and he wondered who Jennsen had been talking about, because he clearly hadn't been referring to Julianne.

His gaze had just located her when the music ended. She and the duke stood near the French windows leading to the terrace at the far side of the room. With his jaw clenched, Gideon watched him raise her hand to his lips, then excuse himself. Daniel and Matthew and their wives stood nearby, as did Lady Emily and… was that Penniwick with her? Indeed it was.

Gideon looked at Julianne and stilled. She was looking at him. Bloody hell, looking at him as if he were the only man in the room. As if she were saying she wished she'd danced the waltz with him. Just as he wished he'd been the one to lead her to the dance floor.

Someone jostled him, yanking Gideon from his thoughts, and he realized with a jolt how many people stood between him and Julianne. Far too many. He couldn't effectively guard her with so much space, so many obstacles between them. He started making his way toward her. He noted her friends moving away from her, heading toward the punch bowl, but Julianne remained where she was, near the French windows.

Gideon frowned and, keeping his gaze on her, tried to move quicker through the crowd. He didn't like her standing by windows, but he couldn't tell her to move. What seemed like a sea of bodies still separated them. He saw her craning her neck. And then she saw him. Looked at him with those beautiful eyes. And he wondered if she could see his desire for her. His feelings for her. If everyone could see it. Because bloody hell, his love for her beat so strongly through him he wasn't certain he could hide it any longer.

In two days' time you won't have to hide it anymore. Because she'll be gone.

In an irony of timing to that depressing thought, the insistent tapping of silverware against crystal sounded from behind him and had the hum of conversation quieting.

"Your attention, everyone, if you please," came the duke's voice over the noise.

Gideon's steps faltered. He saw Julianne's back stiffen, and his every muscle tensed. Here it comes. The words that would make it official. The words he didn't want to hear. Words he wasn't sure he had the strength to listen to. Yet he didn't have a choice but to do so.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please," the duke commanded. The room fell silent. Gideon continued to make his way through the crowd toward Julianne, the need to be close enough to protect her urging him on.

"I don't wish to alarm anyone," called the duke, "but I've just discovered the Eastling jewels are missing! The murdering ghost robber must be in our midst! Ascertain that your valuables are accounted for-"

His words were cut off as pandemonium broke out. Shouting and several high-pitched screams rent the air as a swarm of bodies headed toward Gideon in the direction of the duke, pushing him back. Someone grabbed Gideon's arm. He turned and saw Lord Haverly looking at him.

"That robber made off with my watch fob as well," Haverly said, sounding outraged. "You're a Runner. Do something!"

Gideon brushed the man's hand off his jacket sleeve. "I need to-" His words halted when his breath stopped. At the sight of Julianne being grabbed from behind. And dragged through the French windows by two hooded figures.

Chapter 21

Fighting down the panic that threatened to overwhelm him, Gideon pushed his way through the surging, shouting, anxious crowd. Many people tried to waylay him, but he shook them off, cursing each second-long delay.

By the time he broke free and ran through the open French windows onto the flagstone terrace, he judged nearly four minutes had passed. Most likely Julianne's abductors had either a horse or carriage nearby. Probably in the mews. Pausing only long enough to slip his knife from his boot, he sprinted across the grass toward the back of the garden, gaze scanning, ears straining. Up ahead, near the gate leading to the mews he saw something pale against the dark ground. Heart pounding, he raced toward the object.