"Enough," he said in a strangled voice, holding up a hand as if to ward off the innocently erotic words tumbling from her mouth.

"But—"

"I said enough."

Henry nodded and then stepped aside to allow the innkeeper to enter with breakfast. She and Dunford watched in silence as he laid the table and left the room. Once she was seated, she looked up at him and said, "I say, Dunford, did you realize—"

"Henry?" he interrupted, terrified she was going to say something delightfully improper and convinced he would not be able to control his reaction to it.

"Yes?"

"Eat your eggs."

Many hours later they reached the outskirts of London. Henry practically had her face plastered up against the glass windows of the coach, she was so excited. Dunford pointed out a few of the sights, assuring her there would be plenty of time for her to see the rest of the city. He would take her sightseeing just as soon as they had hired a maid to act as her escort. Until then he would have one of his female friends show her around.

Henry swallowed nervously. Dunford's friends were undoubtedly sophisticated and dressed in the first stare of fashion. She was nothing more than a country bumpkin. She had a sinking feeling she would not know what to do when she met them. And Lord knew she had no idea what to say.

This was particularly distressing to a woman who had prided herself on always having a ready retort.

As their carriage rolled toward Mayfair, the houses grew progressively grander. Henry could barely keep her mouth shut as she stared. Finally she turned to her companion and said, "Please tell me you don't live in one of these mansions."

"I don't." He gave her a lopsided smile.

Henry breathed a sigh of relief.

"But you will."

"Excuse me?"

"You didn't think you could live in the same house as I, did you?"

"I hadn't really thought about it."

"I'm sure you'll be able to stay with one or another of my friends. I'm just going to drop you off at my house to wait until I make arrangements for you."

Henry felt rather like a piece of baggage. "Won't I be an imposition?"

"In one of these houses?" He quirked a brow and waved his hand at one of the opulent mansions. "You could go for weeks without anyone even noticing your presence."

"How very encouraging," she muttered.

Dunford chuckled. "Don't worry, Hen. I have no intention of settling you with a miserable harridan or a doddering old fool. I promise you'll be happy with your living arrangements."

His voice was so rich and reassuring that Henry couldn't help but believe him.

The carriage turned into Half Moon Street and came to a stop in front of a neat little town house. Dunford alighted, then turned to help Henry down. "This," he said with a smile, "is where I live."

"Oh, but it's lovely!" Henry exclaimed, feeling overwhelmingly relieved that his home wasn't too grand.

"It's not mine. I only lease it. It seems silly to purchase a house when we've a family home right here in London."

"Why don't you live there?"

He shrugged. "I'm too lazy to move, I suppose. I probably should. The house has rarely been occupied since my father's death."

Henry let him lead her into a bright and airy drawing room. "But in all seriousness, Dunford," she said, "if no one is using the house here in London, wouldn't it make sense for you to use it? This is a lovely house. I'm sure it costs a pretty penny to lease it. You could invest those funds..." She broke off when she realized Dunford was laughing.

"Oh, Hen," he gasped. "Don't ever change."

"You may be sure that I won't," she said pertly.

He clucked her under the chin. "Was ever a female so practical as you, I wonder?"

"Most males are not, either," she retorted, "and I happen to think practicality is a good trait."

"And so it is. But as for my house—" He bestowed his most devilish grin upon her, sending her heart and mind into a whirl of giddy confusion. "—at nine and twenty I'd rather not be living under a watchful parental eye. Oh, and by the way, you'll want not to talk about such matters among ton ladies. It's considered crass."

"Well, what can I talk about, then?"

He paused. "I don't know."

"Just as you didn't know what ladies talk about when they retire after supper. It's probably dreadfully dull."

He shrugged. "Not being a lady, I have never been invited to listen to their conversations. But if you're interested, you can ask Belle. You'll probably meet her this afternoon."

"Who is Belle?"

"Belle? Oh, she is a great friend of mine."

Henry began to sense an emotion that felt uncannily like jealousy.

"She's recently married. Used to be Belle Blydon, but now she's Belle Blackwood. Lady Blackwood, I suppose I should call her."

Trying to ignore the fact that she felt rather relieved at this Belle person's married state, Henry said, "And she was Lady Belle Blydon before that, I imagine?"

"She was, actually."

She swallowed. All these lords and ladies were a trifle unsettling.

"Don't let Belle's blue blood send you into palpitations," Dunford said briskly, walking across the room to a closed door. He put his hand on the knob and pushed it open. "Belle is extremely unpretentious, and besides, I'm sure that with a little training, you'll be able to hold your head high with the best of us."

"Or the worst," Henry muttered, "as the case may be."