"Argh!" Tipping his head back, he squeezed his eyes shut and expelled a long breath. Damn it, he did not want to feel this way. Not with this woman whose heart belonged to another man and whose home was on another continent. Why the bloody hell couldn't he be feeling all these things for an uncomplicated English girl?

And just what the bloody hell was he going to do about it?


**********

Allie stepped into the breakfast room just after dawn the next morning, and halted as if she'd walked into a wall of glass.

Lord Robert sat at one end of the polished mahogany table, drinking from a china cup and perusing a newspaper.

Good Lord, what was he doing here so early? She'd known that he would come to the town house today, yet she'd hoped to have the morning hours to mentally prepare herself to face him. Obviously she was not to have that luxury, for there he sat, looking strong and masculine in a dark bluejacket, snowy shirt, and perfectly knotted cravat.

He looked up from his reading and their eyes met over the rim of his china cup. Heaven help her if he looked at her as he had last evening…

But her worries were for naught, as he merely smiled at her in a friendly manner. "Good morning, Mrs. Brown. You're up bright and early today."

She swallowed to moisten her dry throat. "I could say the same to you, Lord Robert."

"Ah, well, I've always been a morning sort of person," he said, lowering his cup to the saucer. "Please join me for breakfast. The poached eggs are especially good."

Breathing in the heavenly scent of coffee permeating the air, she walked to the sideboard where she filled a china plate with two eggs, several pieces of thinly sliced ham, and a thick slice of fragrant, freshly baked bread.

Sliding into the chair across from him, she heard him chuckle. "It must run in the family," he said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I know you and Elizabeth are distant cousins." He nodded toward her stacked plate. "Clearly your love of a healthy-sized breakfast runs in the family. We all tease Elizabeth unmercifully about her fondness for the morning meal."

Settling her linen napkin in her lap, she said, "It has always been my favorite. One day, when Elizabeth and I were eight years old, we engaged in a contest to see which of us could eat the most eggs for breakfast."

He smiled. "Ah, so you did more with eggs than juggle them and splatter them upon your face, I see."

"I'm afraid so."

"And who won this competition?"

The memory washed over her, filling her with wistful nostalgia. "Neither of us. As we both attempted to force down our seventh egg, Mama put a stop to it. We both suffered dreadful bellyaches the rest of the morning, to which Mama was totally unsympathetic."

He laughed, and her eyes were drawn to the way his firm lips stretched over his even, white teeth. "At least your competition was with eggs. I recall issuing a similar challenge to Austin over pies."

She raised her brows. "That sounds quite fun, actually."

"Not when the pies are made of mud." Pure deviltry glinted in his eyes. "Of course, Austin wasn't aware of that when he accepted me."

"Oh, dear. How old were you?"

"I had just turned five. Austin was nine." A chuckle sounded from his throat. "I won. Didn't have to eat more than a spoonful, as Austin gave over after the tiniest taste."

"Yet I somehow have the feeling that you would have eaten much more than a spoonful in order to best him."

He inclined his head in agreement. "Absolutely. I always play to win. Although to this day I vividly recall how utterly foul that dirt tasted." He pulled a comical face and shuddered dramatically. "Never again."

A footman appeared at her elbow, and she gratefully accepted coffee. She could feel the weight of Lord Robert's stare upon her, but as she did not wish to become lost in his dark blue gaze, she applied her attention to her breakfast with the zeal of a scientist to a microscope.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked after a moment where the only sound was her cutlery tapping against her plate.

No. I tossed and turned most of the night, and it s entirely your fault. "Yes, thank you. Did you?"

After a full minute passed without him offering a reply, she risked prying her attention from her thinly sliced ham to peek up at him. And nearly choked on her food.

His gaze was riveted on her breasts.

All the tension that had drained away after his easy greeting and companionable conversation, came roaring back, bringing with it a storm of heat. To her horror, she felt her nipples harden. And to her utter mortification, it was obvious from his quick intake of breath and the way his eyes darkened that he noticed.

She felt color climbing up her neck. She needed to lift her napkin, or cross her arms-something-yet she found she couldn't move. Aching need rushed through her, sparking to life nerve endings that had lain dormant for three years.

He suddenly looked up, and her breath stalled at the unmistakable desire emanating from his eyes. "No," he said, his voice low and husky. "I didn't sleep well at all."

"I… I'm sorry to hear that." Please, please stop looking at me like that. It makes me feel things I don't want to feel… Makes me want things…

He reached for his coffee, breaking that hypnotic stare, and relief relaxed some of her tense muscles.

"But then, I rarely sleep well when I'm not in my own bed," he said. "I spent the night here."

Her heart skipped a beat. No more than a few feet had separated them last night. "You did?"

"Yes. Given the dangers you've faced, coupled with the fact that we don't know if there might be further threats to you, I thought it best. I sent a footman round to my rooms last night to collect my essentials. I plan to remain here until we leave for Bradford Hall, which may be happening quite soon." Reaching into his jacket, he withdrew a note. "This arrived last night after you'd retired. It's from Shelbourne. He's invited us to call upon him this morning. I haven't responded yet, as I didn't know if you still wished to meet him in light of the fact that you no longer have his ring. Since he never knew you had it-"

"He knew. I wrote to him yesterday, telling him. I wanted him to know I had the ring and wished to return it to him." She blew out a breath. "I feel dreadful having to tell him it is no longer in my possession, but there is no alternative."

He rose, setting his napkin next to his plate. "In that case, I shall write him immediately, telling him to expect us. If you'll excuse me…"

Although she tried not to, she watched his reflection in the huge gilt mirror hanging above the mahogany sideboard. When he disappeared through the doorway, a breath she hadn't realized she held, expelled from her lips, and she fought the urge to fan herself with her napkin.

There was no doubt about it-Lord Robert looked as fine exiting a room as he did entering one.


********

Robert fought the urge to scowl as he watched the earl of Shelbourne bow low over Mrs. Brown's hand.

"A pleasure to meet you," the earl said. "Jamison here always seems to be acquainted with the loveliest women. I'm honored that he would introduce us." Tucking Mrs. Brown's hand through his arm, he led her across the well-appointed drawing room to an overstuffed settee. He sat next to Mrs. Brown, angling himself in such a way that Robert was forced to sit several yards away in a wing chair.

Settling himself in the chair, which he grudgingly admitted was quite comfortable, he silently observed Geoffrey Hadmore and Mrs. Brown. With her golden-brown eyes wide and full of distress, she explained, as she had to him last evening, how she'd found the ring among her husband's possessions and traced it to him. Then she related the story of the robbery, apologizing profusely, and promising to return the ring to him immediately if it was found.

Shelbourne, his dark eyes full of admiring warmth, clasped her hand between his. "My dear, undoubtedly this ring was nothing more than an inexpensive bauble an uncle or cousin sold or gave away. And I can hardly miss something that I never even knew existed. While I greatly appreciate your efforts to restore it to me, you mustn't give it another thought. Now, you must tell me about America. Fascinating place. I'd love to travel there someday…"

Robert shifted in his chair and turned a deaf ear to Shelbourne. Bloody hell, it was an effort not to roll his eyes at all the palaver flapping from the earl's lips. Indeed, if it had been directed at anyone other than Mrs. Brown, he would have ignored it and simply enjoyed the tea and what looked like excellent biscuits resting on the ornate silver tea tray. But as the full strength of Shelbourne's attention and charm was directed at Mrs. Brown, Robert's teeth ground in annoyance.

At that moment Shelbourne's mastiff walked into the room, the thump of his massive paws silenced by the maroon-and-blue Persian rug. Robert patted his knee in invitation to the beast, who he recalled from walks in the park was named Thorndyke and whose enormous size hid a kittenlike temperament.

Clearly sensing a friend, Thorndyke trotted over and plopped his huge head on Robert's thigh, looking up at him with a woebegone expression. Robert stroked the dog's warm fur, then shared a biscuit with him. Thorndyke gazed at him with pure canine devotion that proclaimed them to now be lifelong friends.

He glanced over at the couple on the settee and his annoyance instantly multiplied when he observed an attractive blush staining Mrs. Brown's cheeks. "That is very kind of you to say, Lord Shelbourne," she murmured.

Damn it, what the hell had the bounder said? He'd been so disgruntled, he'd missed it. He did not, however, miss Shelbourne's low-pitched reply.