Rendezvous

7

"Harry."

Augusta 's startled cry was stifled under the fierce, exciting pressure of Harry's mouth. He took command of her senses in a single instant. Her stunned amazement dissolved into a shimmering excitement, just as it had that first time on the floor of his library.

Augusta wound her arms slowly around Harry's neck as she recovered from the initial shock. He was demanding entrance into her mouth and she obediently parted her lips. The instant she did so, he was inside, claiming her warmth. Augusta shivered.

Her body was reacting so quickly she could not think clearly. Part of her was aware of the sway and jostle of the vehicle, the rattle of the wheels, and the ring of the horses' hooves on stone. But here in the carriage, locked in Harry's arms, she was in another world.

It was a world to which she had secretly longed to return ever since that first time Harry had held her like this. The hours she had spent reliving those intimacies in her imagination paled now as reality took its place. A euphoric sensation unfolded within her as she realized she was going to have another opportunity to experience the wonder of Harry's kisses.

Obviously he had forgiven her for the unpleasant business involving Lovejoy and her debt, Augusta thought happily. Surely Harry would not be kissing her like this if he were still angry with her. She clutched at him, her fingers sinking deeply into the heavy fabric of his black greatcoat.

"Good God, Augusta." Harry raised his head slightly, his eyes gleaming in the shadow. "You are going to drive me mad. One minute I could cheerfully shake you and the next you make me want to drag you into the nearest bed."

She touched the side of his face and smiled wistfully. "Will you please kiss me again, Harry? I do so like it when you kiss me."

With a muffled oath, Harry's mouth came back down on hers. She was aware of his hand gliding over her shoulder, stroking gently, and she froze for an instant when his fingers touched her breast through the fabric of her shirt. But she did not pull away.

"Do you like that, my reckless little hoyden?" Harry's voice was husky as he began to unfasten her shirt.

"Yes," she breathed. "I want you to kiss me and go on kissing me forever. I vow it is the most fascinating experience, my lord."

"I am very glad you find it so."

Then his hand was sliding inside the open shirt and cupping her bare breast. Augusta closed her eyes and sucked in her breath as Harry's thumb circled her nipple.

"My God," Harry whispered thickly. "Like the sweetest of ripe fruit."

Then he lowered his head to take the rosy bud into his mouth and Augusta moaned in response.

"Hush, love," he muttered, his hand moving down to the fastening of her trousers.

Dimly Augusta realized they were in a carriage somewhere on a busy street and that Scruggs was only a few feet away, blissfully unaware of what was happening inside the cab. She knew she should keep silent, but she could not swallow each tiny gasp of surprise Harry's touch made her body sing with pleasure. An unbearable eagerness was rippling through her, creating a tension that was too new and too strange to deal with in complete silence.

When she felt Harry's fingers inside her open trousers, searching out the warm secrets between her thighs, Augusta caught her breath and cried out softly. "Oh, Harry."

Harry responded with a groan that was half laughter and half oath. "Silence, sweetheart. You must have a care, love."

"I am sorry, but I cannot seem to keep quiet when you touch me like that. It feels so very odd, Harry. I vow I have never felt anything like it."

"Damnation, woman. You do not have an inkling of what you are doing to me, do you?" Harry shifted, changing position quickly. He swung the greatcoat off his shoulders and spread it on the green cushions. Then he moved again, stretching Augusta out on the coat. Her knees were raised because of the close quarters.

When Augusta opened her eyes, Harry was crouched beside her. He bent over her, opening her shirt with feverish impatience to bare her breasts.

Augusta was just growing accustomed to the touch of his hand on her upper body when she became aware of the fact that Harry was jerking off her shoes and tugging her trousers down over her thighs.

"My lord? What are you doing?" She stirred restlessly on the cushion, half lost in the daze of sensual awareness that was enveloping her. Harry's warm hand cupped her softness with shocking intimacy and she trembled.

"Tell me again that you want me," he muttered against her breast.

"I want you. I have never wanted anything so much in my life." She arched against his hand and heard him groan. All thought of protest faded away once more, to be replaced by a spiraling need. She cried out again and Harry's mouth was suddenly back on hers, silencing her gently.

Augusta shuddered as she felt him shift position once again. He was on his knees between her legs now. She realized he was fumbling quickly with his breeches.

"Harry?"

"Hush, love. Hush."

She gasped as his weight came down on top of her, crushing her into the cushions. He had settled himself between her thighs before she fully realized what he intended.

His fingers slid down between their bodies, stroking her urgently, parting her. "Yes, love. That's it. Yes. Open yourself for me. Just like that. Lord, you are soft. Soft and moist for me. Let me feel you, darling."

The husky, coaxing words spilled over her. Augusta felt something hard and unyielding pushing slowly but steadily against her softness.

Panic flared for an instant. She should stop him, she thought vaguely. He would surely regret this in the morning, perhaps blame her again, just as he had last time. "Harry, I do not think we should do this. You will think me wanton."

"No, love. I will think you very sweet. Very soft."

"You will say I encouraged you." She gasped as he pressed harder. "You will say I made certain promises again."

"The promises have already been made and they will be kept. You belong to me, Augusta. We are engaged. You have nothing to fear by giving yourself to the man who will be your husband."

"Are you certain?"

"Absolutely certain. Put your arms around me, love," Harry muttered against her mouth. "Hold me. Take me fully inside you. Show me that you truly want me."

"Oh, Harry, I do want you. And if you are certain you want me, if you will not think me sadly lacking in virtue—"

"I want you, Augusta. God knows I want you so badly I do not believe I will survive until morning if I do not have you tonight. Nothing has ever felt so right."

"Oh, Harry." He wanted her, Augusta thought, dazzled by the realization. He needed her desperately. And she longed to surrender herself to him; she ached to discover what it would feel like to be possessed by him.

Augusta 's arms tightened around his neck and she lifted herself tentatively into his strength.

It was all the encouragement Harry needed.

"God, yes, Augusta. Yes." His mouth fastened on hers as he thrust heavily into her.

Augusta, poised on the brink of a blazing sensual awareness, felt as if someone had suddenly tossed her into an icy cold pond. The shock of the intimate invasion roared through her. This was not what she had been expecting.

She gasped and cried out in surprise and dismay. The protest was no more than a muffled squeak, however, because Harry kept his mouth clamped savagely over hers. He swallowed her small exclamations, soothing her with his kiss. Neither of them moved.

Harry lifted his head cautiously after a moment. The soft light of the carriage lamp revealed the perspiration on his forehead and his tightly clenched jaw.

"Harry?"

"Easy, love, easy. 'Twill be all right in a moment or two. Forgive me, sweet, for rushing matters so." He dropped hot, urgent kisses along her cheeks and down her throat. His hands gripped her tightly. "You have made me drunk with desire and like any drunkard I have blundered about in a clumsy fashion when I should have used more grace and skill."

Augusta did not respond. She was too busy adjusting to the strange sensation of having Harry deep inside her.

For a timeless moment Harry continued to lay absolutely still on top of her. Augusta could feel the rigid tension in him as he held himself in check.

"Augusta?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Are you all right, love?" he demanded through set teeth. He sounded as though he were exercising every ounce of self-control he possessed.

"Yes. I think so." Augusta frowned as her body slowly grew accustomed to the impossibly tight, impossibly stretched sensation. Nothing had ever felt like this.

At that moment the coach bounced mightily as a wheel struck a hole in the street. Harry was driven even more deeply inside Augusta by the unexpected motion. He groaned. Augusta gasped.

Harry muttered something under his breath and rested his forehead on Augusta's. "It will get better. I give you my word on that, Augusta. You are so sweet, so responsive. Look at me, sweetheart." He cradled her face between his palms. "Damn it, Augusta, open your eyes and look at me. Tell me you still want me. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you."

She obeyed, lifting her lashes to survey his stark face. She realized that even as he fought to hold himself in check, he was chastising himself for having caused her discomfort. She smiled gently, deeply touched by his tender consideration. No wonder she loved him, she thought suddenly.

"Do not fret yourself, Harry. It is not that bad, truly. I doubt any real damage has been done. Not all adventures go smoothly, as we both discovered this evening in Lovejoy's library."

"Good God, Augusta. Whatever am I going to do with you?" Harry buried his face in the curve of her throat and began to move inside her.

Augusta did not particularly care for the new sensation at first, but she was slowly starting to change her mind— was, in fact, even beginning to find it all quite tolerable—when it was suddenly over.

"Augusta." Harry surged into her one last time, arched his back, and went violently rigid. Augusta was fascinated by the taut strength of him and the feral expression of raw masculine power on his hard face. She realized he was gritting his teeth against a hoarse shout and then he groaned and collapsed heavily against her.

For a moment there was only the steady jostling of the carriage and the distant sounds out in the street. Augusta stroked Harry's back soothingly as she listened to him drawing in great, ragged gulps of air. She decided she liked the warm, heavy feel of him lying on top of her, even though he was crushing her into the cushions. She even liked the scent of him. There was something unmistakably and utterly masculine about it.

Most of all, she liked the strange intimacy of the situation. She felt almost a part of Harry now, she realized. It was as if they had both given something of themselves to each other and were now bound in some indefinable way that had nothing to do with the formalities of an engagement.

It took Augusta a few seconds to identify just what she was feeling and then she had it. It was a joyous sense of belonging. She and Harry were together now, as if tonight they had created the foundation of a new family. A family to which she could fully belong.

"Christ," Harry muttered. "I don't believe this."

"Harry," Augusta murmured thoughtfully, "will we do this a great deal during the next four months of our engagement, do you think? If so, we might have to arrange for a different coachman." She giggled softly. "I cannot see Scruggs agreeing to drive us around the city every night, can you? His rheumatism, you know."

Harry went still. His head came up abruptly and there was a distinctly stunned look in his eyes. When he spoke, all trace of a lover's warmth and urgency was gone from his voice. "Four months. Damnation. 'Tis impossible."

"What is wrong, my lord?"

He lifted himself away from her, running his fingers through his tousled hair. "Nothing that cannot be remedied. I need a few minutes to think. Sit up, Augusta. Hurry. I am sorry to rush you, but you must get dressed."

Harry's impatient, commanding tone succeeded in squelching much of the lingering sense of intimacy Augusta had been feeling. She winced as she awkwardly levered herself into an upright position and began fumbling with her clothing.

"Really, Harry. I do not understand you. Why are you so angry?" Augusta's fingers stilled on her clothing as a sudden horrible thought struck her. "Are you going to blame me, after all, for what happened a few minutes ago?"

"Damn it to hell, I am not angry with you, Augusta. At least, not about this." He gestured brusquely to indicate the interior of the carriage and all that had taken place within it. "The business of breaking into Lovejoy's house is another matter entirely and I do not intend to let it drop."

He fastened his breeches, straightened his shirt, and then reached out to assist her in getting back into her clothes. His hand stilled briefly on her thigh.

Augusta smiled as she sensed that he was torn between conflicting emotions. "Yes, my lord? Did you want something more?"

"A great deal more." He shook his head grimly as he adjusted her trousers. "And I shall never last another four months before I take it again, that is for certain."

"Then we shall be doing this frequently, my lord?"

He glanced up and there was no mistaking the sensual promise in his eyes, "No doubt. But not in some bloody damn carriage in the middle of London. Here, fix your shirt, Augusta." He started to fasten it for her. "I shall procure a special license as quickly as possible and we shall be married in a day or two."

"Married. By special license?" Augusta stared at him. She could not seem to get her thoughts straight. Everything was happening too fast. "Oh, no, Harry. What about our engagement?"

"I am afraid ours is destined to be one of the shorter betrothals on record. Just as short as I can make it, in fact."

"The thing is, I am not at all certain I want it shortened."

"Your feelings on the matter are no longer of any great significance," he told her gently. "I have just made love to you and will no doubt be tempted to do so again in the very near future. We shall therefore get married immediately. I am not going to wait four months to have you again, that much is a certainty. I would not survive the torture."

"But, Harry—"

He held up a hand to silence her. "Enough. Not another word. The matter is settled. This situation is entirely of my own doing and I will do what must be done."

"Well, as to that," Augusta said thoughtfully, "I do not think you can say it was entirely your fault. You have mentioned on several occasions that my own sense of propriety is sadly lacking in many respects and everyone knows I am inclined to be somewhat reckless. This is partly my fault, Harry. In fact," she added in chagrin as she thought of what Claudia's reaction would be to this news, "some people would be of the opinion that it is all my fault."

"I said I did not want to hear another word about it." Harry started to sweep up his greatcoat from the seat of the carriage and paused to stare down at the small, damp stains on it. He drew a deep breath.

"Is something wrong, Harry?"

"My apologies, Augusta." His voice was gruff. "I had no right to take advantage of you tonight. I do not know what happened to my self-control. You deserved a proper bed and all the trappings of a honeymoon for your first experience of lovemaking."

"Do not fret about it, sir. To tell you the truth, this was a rather exciting way to begin the whole business." She pushed aside the curtain that covered the window and gazed out into the street. "I wonder how many of those other carriages out there contain couples doing exactly what we were just doing?"

"One shudders to even contemplate the notion." Harry shoved open the trapdoor in the roof with his ebony walking stick. "Scruggs, take us back to Lady Arbuthnott's immediately."

"About time," Scruggs growled from the box. "Left it a bit late, didn't you, sir?"

Harry did not bother to respond. He let the trap close with a loud crack. Then he sat facing Augusta in silence for a long moment. "I cannot believe I have just made love to my fiancée in a carriage in the middle of a London street."

"Poor Harry." Augusta studied the strange expression on his hard face. "I suppose you will find this very difficult to reconcile with your fine notion of propriety, will you not, my lord?"

"Are you laughing at me, by any chance, Miss Ballinger?"

"No, my lord. I would not dream of doing so." She struggled to conceal the grin that was tugging at her mouth. She wondered why she felt so lighthearted and happy after such an astounding event.

Harry swore softly. "I begin to believe that if I am not extremely careful, you will be an exceedingly bad influence on me, Augusta."

"I shall certainly try my best, sir," she murmured. Then she sobered. "But about this matter of being married by special license, I really do not feel it is necessary to do anything quite so drastic, Harry."

"No?" His brows rose. "Well, I do. And that is all there is to it. I shall notify you tomorrow of the time and place. And I shall speak to your uncle and explain that there is no choice now."

"But that's just it, Harry. There is a choice. I am in no great rush. And marriage is so very permanent, is it not? I want you to be quite certain of what you are doing, my lord."

"You mean you are still having qualms."

She bit her lip. "I did not say that precisely."

"You do not need to say it. You have been dragging your feet about our engagement right from the start. But now matters have gone too far and neither of us has any honorable alternative but to proceed with the wedding as quickly as possible."

A jolt of fear went through Augusta. "I hope you are not going through with this because you feel you must do the right thing, my lord. I realize you are very touchy about matters having to do with respectability and propriety, but there really is no need for such haste."

"Do not be a goose, Augusta. There is every need to hurry along this marriage. You might even now be pregnant."

Her eyes widened. "Dear heaven, I had not thought of that." Which only goes to show what chaos my mind is in tonight, she thought. I might be pregnant. With Harry's baby. Instinctively she touched her stomach with protective fingers.

Harry's gaze followed her hand. He smiled. "Obviously that possibility had slipped your mind."

"We could wait awhile and be certain," she ventured.

"We are not going to wait a day longer than necessary."

She heard the unyielding note in his voice and knew that further argument was useless. She was not even certain she wanted further discussion. She did not know what she wanted just then.

What would it be like to have Harry's baby?

Augusta sat tense and quiet until the carriage arrived at Lady Arbuthnott's residence.

When they alighted, Augusta turned to Harry one last time. "My lord, it is not too late to reconsider. Pray, do not make any decisions until the morrow. You may feel differently then."

"I shall be too busy arranging for a special license and taking care of certain matters tomorrow to do any reconsidering," he informed her. "Come, I will escort you through the garden to a door at the back of the house. You can change your clothing in one of Sally's bedchambers and then she will send you home in her carriage along with a companion."

"What do you mean, you will be too busy tomorrow?" she demanded as he hurried her toward the back door of the house. "What are you going to do tomorrow besides arrange for the special license?"

"I plan to pay a call on Lovejoy, among other things. Please try to move a little more quickly, Augusta. It makes me very uneasy being out here in the open with you dressed like that."

But Augusta suddenly dug in her booted heels and came to a complete halt. "Lovejoy? What the devil do you mean, you're going to pay a call on him?" She reached up and grasped the lapels of his coat. "Harry, you are not going to do something extremely foolish like challenge him to a duel, are you?"

He looked down at her, eyes unreadable in the shadows. "You find that notion foolish?"

"Good lord, yes. Excessively foolish. Out of the question. Unthinkable. Harry, you must not do any such thing. Do you hear me? I will not allow it."

He studied her thoughtfully. "Why not?" he asked at last.

"Because something dreadful might happen," she gasped. "You might be killed. And it would be all my fault. I could not bear that, Graystone. Do you understand? I will not have that on my conscience. The entire matter of the debt was my problem and it is now resolved. There is no need to challenge Lovejoy. Please, Harry, I beg you. Promise me you will not do so."

"From what I have been told, I would hazard a guess that your father or brother, were either still alive, would have made a dawn appointment with Lovejoy," Harry observed softly.

"But it is not the same thing at all. They were very different types of men." Augusta was feeling desperate. "They were reckless and daring sorts, perhaps a bit too much so at times. In any event, I would not want them challenging Lovejoy, either. As I said before, the entire disaster was of my own doing."

"Augusta—"

She gave the lapels of his greatcoat a sharp, admonishing shake. "I do not want someone else risking his neck for what was all my own fault. Please, Harry. Give me your word you will not do so. I could not bear it if something were to happen to you because of me."

"You seem quite certain I would be the one who would lose in such a duel," he said. "I imagine I should feel somewhat offended by your lack of confidence in my skill with a pistol."

"No, no, it is not that." She shook her head frantically, anxious to reassure him lest he be embarrassed. "It is just that some men such as my brother are more inclined by nature toward dangerous activities. You are not. You are a scholar, sir, not a hot-blooded out-and-outer or a Corinthian."

"I begin to believe you actually have some affection for me, Augusta, even if you do not think highly of my dueling skills."

"Well, of course I think highly of you, Harry. I have always thought highly of you. I have even grown somewhat fond of you of late."

"I see."

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she heard the soft mockery in his words. She had just allowed this man to make love to her on a carriage cushion and here she was telling him she was somewhat fond of him.

He must think her a perfect goose. On the other hand, she could hardly tell him she was wildly in love with him. This was hardly the time or place for such a passionate declaration. Everything was in too much chaos.

"Harry, you have been most helpful to me this evening and I would not want you to suffer because of my actions," Augusta concluded stoutly.

Harry was silent for another long moment. Then he smiled grimly. "I will make you a bargain, Augusta. I will refrain from issuing a challenge to Lovejoy on the morrow if you will give me your word you will not give me any further argument about being married by special license in two days' time."

"But, Harry—"

"Do we have a bargain, my dear?"

She drew a deep breath, knowing she was trapped. "Yes, we have a bargain."

"Excellent."

Augusta narrowed her eyes in sudden suspicion. "Graystone, if I did not know better, I would swear you were an exceedingly cunning and rather clever beast."

"Ah, but you do know me better than to conclude that, do you not, my dear? I am merely a rather dull and plodding classical scholar."

"Who makes love in carriages and who just happens to know how to open locks and secret safes."

"One learns the most amazing facts in books." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Now run along inside and get out of those damn breeches. They are most unsuitable for a lady. I prefer my future countess in proper female attire."

"That does not surprise me, my lord." She turned to leave.

"Augusta?"

She glanced back over her shoulder and saw Harry reach into the pocket of his greatcoat. He drew out a small pouch. "Yes, Harry?"

"I believe this belongs to you. I trust you will not find yourself in a position where you must pawn it again."

"My necklace." She smiled glowingly up at him as she took the pouch from his hand. She stood on tiptoe to brush a soft kiss against his jaw. "Thank you, my lord. You cannot know what this means to me. However did you manage to find it?"

"Your moneylender was more than willing to part with it," Harry said, his voice dry.

"I shall, of course, give you the thousand pounds I got when I pawned it," Augusta said quickly, thrilled to have the necklace safely back in her possession.

"Never mind the thousand pounds. You may consider it a portion of the marriage settlements."

"That is very generous of you, my lord. But I could not possibly allow you to give me such a gift."

"You can and you will," Harry said coolly. "I am your fiancé, if you will recall. It is my privilege to give you the occasional gift. And I shall consider myself amply repaid if you have learned your lesson tonight."

"About Lovejoy? Never fear. I have definitely learned my lesson about him. I shall never play cards with him again." Augusta paused, feeling wonderfully generous herself. "Nor will I even dance with him in future."

"Augusta, you will not even talk to him in future. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Harry."

His face softened slightly as his eyes skimmed over her. The possessiveness in his gaze sent a shiver of awareness through Augusta.

"Run along, my dear," Harry said. "It grows late."

Augusta turned and fled into the house.

Harry was shown into Lovejoy's small library shortly before noon the next morning. He casually surveyed the room and saw that everything was just as it had been last night, including the globe, which was still in its location near the bookcase.

Lovejoy leaned back in his chair behind the desk and eyed his unexpected visitor with seemingly lazy interest. But there was a wary gleam in his green eyes. "Good morning, Graystone. What brings you here today?"

"A personal matter. It will not take long." Harry seated himself in the wing chair near the hearth. Contrary to Augusta's assumption last night, he'd had no intention of challenging Lovejoy this morning. He believed in knowing an enemy well before choosing an appropriate method of dealing with him.

"A personal matter, you say. I must admit I am surprised. I did not think Miss Ballinger would go to you about the little matter of her gaming debts. So she had asked you to pay them, has she?"

Harry lifted an inquiring brow. "Not at all. I am unaware of any such debts, sir. However, one should never make assumptions about Miss Ballinger. My fiancée is not entirely predictable."

"So I am given to understand."

"I, however, am very predictable in my ways. I think you should know that, Lovejoy. If I say I will do something, it generally gets done."

"I see." Lovejoy toyed with a heavily chased silver paperweight. "And just what are you proposing to do?"

"Protect my fiancée from the sort of games you apparently enjoy playing with women."

Lovejoy gave him a deeply offended look. "Graystone, it is not my fault your fiancée enjoys the occasional hand of cards. If you are truly bent on marrying the lady, you would do well to consider her nature. She is inclined toward reckless entertainment. The tendency runs in the family, I hear. At least on the Northumberland side of the clan."

"It is not my fiancée's fondness for cards that concerns me."

"No? I should think it would concern you deeply, Graystone. Once your fortune is at her disposal, she will no doubt grow even more fond of games of chance." Lovejoy smiled meaningfully.

Harry smiled back quite blandly. "As I said, I am not concerned about her choice of entertainments. It is your teasing her about the matter of her brother's death that has brought me here today."

"She told you about that, did she?"

"I was informed you more or less promised to help her investigate the incident. I seriously doubt you can offer her any useful assistance. Nor do I want the past dug up. It will only succeed in causing my fiancée pain and that I will not tolerate. You are to leave the matter alone, Lovejoy. Do you understand?"

"What makes you so certain I cannot help her get her brother's reputation out from under the cloud of suspicion that hovered over him at the time of his death?"

"We both know there is no way to go back and prove or disprove Ballinger's guilt. It is best that the matter stay buried." Harry held Lovejoy's gaze. "Unless, of course," he said quietly, "you have some special knowledge of the event, in which case you will tell me about it. Do you know anything, Lovejoy?"

"Good lord, no."

"I thought not." Harry got to his feet. "I trust you are telling the truth, because I would be most unhappy to learn otherwise. I will bid you good day. By the bye, although I do not intend to forbid my fiancée the occasional game of cards, I am forbidding her to play with you. You must try your tricks elsewhere, Lovejoy."

"How dull. I quite enjoy Miss Ballinger's company. And there is the little matter of the thousand pounds she owes me. Tell me, Graystone, given the rumor that you are demanding excessively virtuous behavior in your next countess, does it not alarm you that you are engaged to a young woman who tends to play rather deep?"

Harry smiled faintly. "You must be mistaken, Lovejoy. My fiancée does not owe you any money. Certainly not a thousand pounds."

"Do not be too certain of that." Lovejoy got to his feet, a look of satisfaction in his eyes. "Would you care to see her marker?"

"If you can produce it, I shall, of course, settle the debt here and now. But I doubt you can present any such marker."

"One moment."

Harry watched with interest as Lovejoy crossed the room to the globe and took a key from his pocket. He inserted it in the hidden lock and the top half of the globe sprang open, just as it had last night.

There was an acute silence as Lovejoy stood gazing down into the bottom half of the globe for a long moment. Then he turned slowly around to face Harry. His face was expressionless.

"I appear to have been mistaken," Lovejoy said softly. "I do not have your lady's marker, after all."

"I did not think so. I believe we understand each other very well now, do we not, Lovejoy? Again, I shall bid you good day. You may congratulate me, by the way. I am to be married tomorrow."

"So soon?" Lovejoy could not completely hide his start of surprise. His eyes narrowed. "You amaze me, sir. I would not have thought you so rash. From all accounts anyone who marries Miss Augusta Ballinger must be prepared for a great many adventures."

"It will no doubt make an interesting change for me. I am told I have spent too many years buried in my books. Perhaps it is time I was introduced to a bit of adventure." Without waiting for a reply, Harry opened the door and let himself out of the library. Behind him he heard the lid of the globe safe being slammed shut with sufficient force to echo in the hall.

Lovejoy's choice of Augusta as a target for his obnoxious little games was interesting, Harry thought as he left the house. He decided it was time to make a few inquiries into the man's past. The task would give Peter Sheldrake something more useful to do than play at being Scruggs the butler.