Marriage was not a good topic at all, he realized when Amanda started gnawing on her lower lip. Her parents were dead, and her last beau, Ashway, wanted her for material gain, not affection. As for himself, well…

"They are getting closer to the valet's trail," he quickly said.

She leaned forward and squeezed his hand, as eager to drop the subject of marriage as she was for more news. "Do you truly think they will find Brusseau soon? Nearly three days have gone by."

"If it is at all possible, Daniel will find him. Dimm is helping, and half of Bow Street is after the reward we've posted. Harry says he knows the demimonde, the underworld, and he'll be paying for information there. The valet cannot have gone far, not with the men we stationed at the docks and the posting houses and tollbooths asking for an injured Frenchman."

"But what if he was not the one who threw the brick? You said you already believe he did not kill Sir Frederick." She did not ask why he believed the valet. Perhaps Brusseau had an alibi.

"If he did not commit the murder, he knows who did. I think he is the one who attacked me because his height and weight fit the man in the alley, and no one else has reason. Besides, if Brusseau is not guilty of assault, or lying wounded by Verity, why did he go to ground? He knows we are looking for him, and we know he is not at Johnston's any longer." He took her hand in his and let his thumb rub against her wrist. "They'll find him. We'll have answers. Then we can think about those other questions."

Before Amanda could ask about the other questions, Rex fell asleep. When he awoke, Amanda's hand felt cooler and stiffer in his. "Have I kept you sitting here too long, sweetheart?"

"Not at all, darling," Lady Royce said dryly, patting his fingers.

He grabbed his hand back and tucked it under the covers. His mother brought a cup of lemonade to his mouth and then dabbed at his lips when he was finished drinking, almost as if she knew what she was doing. "Thank you," he said. "Where is Amanda?"

"Where she belongs, which is anywhere but your bedroom. If you were not so ill I would give you a piece of my mind for what you are doing to that poor child. Doesn't she have enough to worry about?"

How could he tell her godmother that Amanda felt her virtue entirely dispensable? "As you can see, I am not up to hell-raking today. Perhaps tomorrow."

"Sarcasm is uncalled for, and I do not refer to Amanda's innocence. I am thinking of her heart, you lummox. I warned you I would not tolerate your trifling with her tender feelings."

Rex tried not to squirm like a child with his pockets full of pilfered cookies. "Speaking of tender feelings, have you and my father finished tearing strips off each other? Is he on his way back to the Hall?"

The countess fussed with the pitcher of lemonade and glasses on the bedside table rather than face Rex. "Royce and I have agreed to cry peace. We did not so much as toss the turtle soup at each other at dinner. Of course, I insisted Amanda join us for the meal to maintain the pretense of politeness, but we managed quite well. Your father was charmed, as I knew he would be. He has agreed to stay in Town to help clear Amanda's name."

"I am relieved that she will have his expertise in legal matters, especially when I cannot count on riding to her rescue."

"No one knows more about the law than your father. He is resting now. I do not know what that man was thinking, to let himself get so frail."

Rex supposed heartbreak and disappointment had much to do with the earl's condition. "Do you care?"

"I do." When she knew that Rex understood she spoke the truth, she came back to his side and straightened the covers around him. "Would it bother you to see me and your father reconciled?"

Rex remembered the argument he'd overheard. "Is that possible, after all these years?"

"I pray so. I have always loved him, you know. Now we are older, and hopefully wiser, and have seen the cost both to you and to us in all the wasted years. I am not afraid of him any longer, or you, seeing what a fine man you are and how much good you have done. His other son has turned out to be an excellent gentleman also, with no assistance from me, to my shame. Royce swears he trusts me, and will never doubt me again. More, we have both realized that pride is a sorry companion. We have enough regrets. Maybe we have a chance to find happiness."

"Nothing would please me more," Rex said, wishing she could recognize the truth when she heard it. Both of his parents seemed incomplete and alone. They needed each other, while he had his own life to make. "Try." He tapped his bandaged head. "We Royce men have thick skulls, you know. But we can change. We can learn."

"I hope so, for my sake, and for Amanda's sake."

She left Rex alone to think, but his mind shied in so many different directions he could barely catch an idea to harness. He was concussed, he told himself, not half-crazed with trying to tell himself lies about murder and marriage and Amanda. He fell asleep again, wishing she were beside him. Forever.

"Impossible," he muttered when he woke up.

"I agree," Murchison said in French. The usually silent valet was frenzied, trying to care for three gentlemen at once, one wounded, one weary from his journey, and one wearing circus costumes.

"News, man, what news?" Rex did not even know what day it was, or how much time had passed.

Murchison gave a Gallic shrug. How did he have time to find a killer? Then he gave a piercing whistle that knifed through Rex's poor head, but brought a footman running with a clean nightshirt. They crammed the viscount into it, leaving him damp and seeing double again. Damn, he had to get better before they killed him! And where was Amanda?

Later-at least he thought it was later, because the room appeared darker-he thought he saw her in the corner with some sewing. "Angel?"

"Why, the angels have not come for you yet, Master Jordan," Nanny Brown whispered, looking over her shoulder. Her eyes were all swollen with weeping, and her fingers were trembling so hard that he felt it necessary to take the cup of tea she brought him before she spilled it on his chest. Rex was not up to having his nightshirt changed again. But he was better, he was relieved to see. He could even bring the cup up to his lips without bumping his nose, and there was only one of his old nursemaid.

"Do not worry yourself into a decline, Nanny. I'll be fine. Why don't you find your own bed?"

"Oh, I could not leave you alone!"

Since his bladder was full from all the water, tea, lemonade, barley water, and soup they'd been pouring down him, she'd better leave, or embarrass both of them. Nanny scurried out when he made his need for the chamber pot known, and Rex was pleased to see he could do something else for himself finally. He'd be up and about his business-Amanda's business-before the surgeon could say permanent damage.

His next caller was not Amanda, either, but he was happier to see his cousin than he expected. "Have you any news?"

"No, but I have raspberry tarts fresh from the oven. Best eat them quickly before that starchy cook of my aunt's comes with a carving knife. Don't know what the woman was saving them for, if not family."

"I cannot feel like eating."

"Even better," Daniel said, splitting the first one in half to share with Verity. "I thought you'd be starving, after all that infant food they serve in the sickroom."

He'd come back from the search, he said between bites, to see if Rex remembered anything more about his assailant. They both knew he'd come back to check on Rex's progress. "Happy to see you looking more the thing." He took another bite, then studied the remaining tart. "Word is you've been looking at Amanda like she's as sweet a morsel as this. Your mother doesn't trust you with the gal."

"Interfering autocrat," Rex muttered.

Daniel smiled and wiped crumbs off his mouth. "When are you going to admit you love her?"

"The countess?"

His cousin laughed. "Miss Carville. Your ears are turning red just thinking about her. Bet your heart is racing, too."

"Lust and love are not the same thing."

"Have you ever wanted a woman more?"

Rex did not bother trying to lie to his cousin. "No."

"And aren't you half killing yourself trying to free her from suspicion?"

"I suppose," Rex murmured. "But there's more to it than that, like solving the crime and finding Sir Nigel's role in the embezzlement scheme."

Daniel snorted, sending crumbs flying. "Could you live without her?"

"How should I know? Just make sure I won't have to, damn it." Rex changed the subject. "I suppose you've heard about Harry?"

"You can never have enough relatives, eh?"

"What do you think of him?"

"He's great guns. We went back to Lydia Burton's place last night for dinner, and to see if any of the girls heard anything."

Daniel was not known for asking questions around willing women, or needing an excuse to visit a bordello. "I cannot believe Mrs. Burton let you in."

"She and old Harry have been friends for ages, it seems. See how useful kin can be? The ladies didn't know anything, but we had a grand time seeing who could tell the biggest clankers."

"Whatever for?"

Daniel started on the second tart. Verity whined until he shared. "Testing our skills, I suppose."

"A pissing contest, more like it. Who won?"

"Well, I'll have a rash for another week"-Daniel adjusted his privates-"but old Harry cast up his accounts on Lydia's new rug. I guess we won't be going back there soon." He and Verity both sighed, the dog because the food was gone. "We're to go to some of the other brothels tonight."