They turned as a group. Matthew, Lord Langston, and Daniel, Lord Surbrooke, stood not three feet away. Their gazes were filled with what appeared to be a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

"Yes, here we are," said Sarah in a bright voice. She slipped her hand through her husband's arm and offered him an equally bright smile. "And so are you. Where have you been?"

Matthew cocked a brow. "Where have I been?"

"Yes. I've been looking for you everywhere. I believe you promised me a dance."

"As I've been standing in this exact spot-which provides an excellent view of the room, by the way-for the past quarter hour and haven't seen a trace of you until now, I'm curious as to where 'everywhere' might be," Matthew said.

Sarah waved her hand in a vague gesture. "Oh, here and there."

"But obviously not here."

"Obviously, my darling husband, who simply must stop worrying about me lest I'm tempted to cosh you right here in Lady Daltry's drawing room." She shoved up her spectacles. "Don't forget; things are only found in the last place one looks for them."

"I suppose you've been looking for me 'everywhere' as well?" Daniel said to Carolyn. Amusement laced his voice, and Julianne's breath caught at the smoldering, intimate way he was looking at his wife.

"Naturally. Of course, it's nearly impossible to keep track of anyone in a crowd such as this."

Daniel and Matthew exchanged a glance. Then said in unison, "They're up to something."

Sar/di„ah raised her chin and gave an injured sniff. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh?" Doubt was written all over Matthew's face. "The four of you nowhere to be found, then sneaking back into the party-"

"We weren't sneaking," Julianne felt compelled to interject.

"Very well," conceded Matthew. "Walking back into the party in a furtive manner." His gaze encompassed all four women, then he turned toward Daniel. "You know what's going on here, don't you?"

Daniel nodded. "Oh yes. They've clearly read another book."

A guilty flush heated Julianne's cheeks, one she prayed neither gentleman would notice, but her prayers clearly went unanswered when Daniel's gaze locked on hers for several seconds. "And by the looks of it, it's another tome steeped in scandal."

"Which could prove very interesting," Matthew said, his tone thoughtful, "especially given the adventures their last two reading selections initiated. What have you literary ladies been reading?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Carolyn said, mimicking her sister's earlier words.

"You realize I have ways to make you reveal your secrets," Daniel said softly.

A becoming blush suffused Carolyn's cheeks, but she pressed her lips together and remained silent.

"How about you?" Matthew asked Sarah. "Anything to say?"

Sarah pushed her spectacles higher on her nose. "Would you care to dance?"

Matthew chuckled, then leaned closer to whisper something in Sarah's ear. Julianne didn't hear what he said, but whatever it was, it caused scarlet to stain Sarah's cheeks.

"What were you two gentlemen doing while we were… indisposed?" Emily asked in her usual impudent manner.

"Discussing the topic that is on everyone's lips," answered Daniel. "The recent murders and robberies. Several people were wondering if the thief might strike again tonight. If so, he might well be caught."

"Why is that?" Sarah asked.

"There is extra security on the premises," Daniel said. "In the form of a Bow Street Runner. Mr. Gideon Mayne."

Everything inside Julianne stilled for the space of several heartbeats, then thundered back to life. He's here. Her gaze immediately scanned the room.

"Hopefully then the scoundrel will be caught," Sarah said. Or at least that's what Julianne thought she said. How could she possibly concentrate when he was here?

She'd met the Bow Street Runner two months ago, purely by chance when he was investigating a series of murders plaguing Mayfair. He'd interviewed Julianne and her mother because they'd attended a soiree at one of the victims' homes.

Gideon Mayne had instantly captured her imagination the moment he walked into Julianne's home. Left her speechless. Breathless. He was unlike any gentleman she'd ever come in contact with in her very sheltered existence-not surprising as he wasn't by any stretch a gentleman. The tall, broad-shouldered, muscular Runner possessed a compelling air of competence and strength, mixed with a hint of danger and a large dose of adventure.

Everything about him fascinated her. His sheer size. His sun-browned skin. His thick, dark hair that required a trim. His large, capable, calloused hands. His deep voice that bore a slight trace of hoarseness. His mere presence shrank their spacious drawing room to the size of a hatbox and gave breath to every secret fantasy and romantic dream she'd kept buried in her heart for years. And he'd had the very same effect on her every time she'd seen him since.

He was the personification of the man that had previously lived only in Julianne's most secret, adventurous longings. And a man she hadn't believed existed outside her heated imaginings.

Until he'd stood before her. And nearly stopped her heart. Her heart, which had recognized him instantly. As a man of strength. Passion. Integrity. A man who was trustworthy and capable of getting things done. A man able to make decisions-ones that didn't involve what time he was scheduled to arrive at his club or which card to play at the gaming tables.

A man of adventure.

A man who, given their vast social differences, could never, ever be hers.

How many times had she told herself to forget about him? Hundreds? Thousands? Yet he remained firmly embedded in her mind, filling her with longings that, in spite of her best efforts to suppress them, grew stronger every day. Longings her reading of The Ghost of Devonshire Manor had only served to inflame-

Her thoughts cut off at the sight of Gideon. He stood near the French windows leading to the terrace, scanning the crowd with a sharp-eyed gaze. His granite-hewn features, uncompromising jaw, and a nose that had clearly been broken at some point were set with determination. A man looking for something and intent upon getting what he wanted. Just then, his dark gaze settled on her.

And suddenly everything and everyone populating the expanse of parquet floor between them seemed to vanish. Gone were the clinking glasses, the conversations, the laughter, and the lilt of music. The party guests seemed to waver before her eyes then melt away. Julianne heard nothing save the pounding of her heart. Saw no one except the vital, mysterious, rugged man across the room. Felt nothing save the same wild, raw, pulse-pounding exhilaration she experienced every time she laid eyes on him.

Their gazes held for the space of several heartbeats. Something flickered in his eyes. A flash of fire that even from across the room heated her, curled her toes inside her satin slippers. For a single wild instant she thought he meant to cross the room to her. But then he stiffened and only offered her a nearly imperceptible nod before shifting his attention beyond her.

She tried to pry her gaze from him, but she simply couldn't. He gave the room one last sweeping glance, one that avoided her, then he slipped out the French windows.

"Julianne?"

Emily's voice seemed to come from very far away. Julianne blinked twice then turned toward her friend. "Yes?"

"Are you certain you're all right?" There was no mistaking the concern in her friend's voice.

Dear God, she didn't know. All she knew was that everything in her strained in the direction of the terrace. She yearned to go beyond those glass-paned doors and follow the man she'd been unable to erase from her mind. Just to steal one more glimpse. Just to feel the heat of his gaze one more time.

She couldn't, of course.

Forcing her attention back to her friends, she said in what she hoped was a reassuring tone, "I'm fine. Truly. Just a bit tired." Her gaze flicked back to the French windows. No one would have to know.

She drew a bracing breath. Straightened her spine. Then firmly shoved aside the guilt and cowardice nudging her. "I see Mother sitting near the potted palms. I think I'll join her for a bit. Find out if she's cast her matchmaking eye on some young, handsome viscount."

"And I believe I hear the start of a waltz," said Matthew to Sarah. "Shall we?"

The couple moved toward the dance floor, followed by Carolyn and Daniel. They'd no sooner moved away than Emily's face puckered as if she'd bitten into a sour pickle. "Botheration, I just caught sight of Logan Jennsen," she whispered.

Julianne turned and noticed the wealthy American, whose fortune guaranteed him a place on every hostess's guest list, chatting with a group of gentlemen near the punch bowl. Emily made no secret of her dislike of Mr. Jennsen, although Julianne wasn't certain of the cause of her antipathy.

"There is just no escaping that uncouth man," Emily grumbled in an undertone. "He's like dust-everywhere and impossible to get rid of. If you'll excuse me…" She hastily melted into the crowd.

Julianne looked at the French windows again then at her mother by the potted palms. She firmly told herself again that she couldn't follow Gideon. If her mother even suspected Julianne would consider following a man onto the terrace, she'd fly into the boughs and never let her out of her sight.

Mother wouldn't have to know, her inner voice whispered. No one would have to know.