Dunford had been irritated by all the attention paid to Henry the previous night, but nothing in his life had ever prepared him for the violent surge of jealousy that ripped through him when she leaned up and whispered something in Ned's ear.

He acted without thinking—he must have, he later reflected, because he never would have behaved like such an idiotic boor if his mind had been working properly. Within seconds he managed to plant himself firmly between them. "Hello, Henry," he said, flashing her an even, white smile which did not even pretend to reach his eyes.

She gnashed her teeth, presumably as a prelude to a stinging rebuke.

"Good to see you're back from university, Ned." He said this without even glancing at the younger man.

"Just keeping Henry company," Ned said with a knowing tilt of his head.

"I cannot thank you enough for your services," Dunford replied tightly, "but they are no longer necessary."

"I think they are," Henry cut in.

Dunford fixed a deadly stare on Ned. "I find myself in need of a discussion with my ward."

"In the middle of the street?" Ned asked, his eyes wide with mock innocence. "Surely you'd rather I returned her home. Then you could speak with her in the comfort of our sitting room, with tea and—"

"Edward." Dunford's voice was like velvet-covered steel.

"Yes?"

"Do you remember the last time we crossed purposes?"

"Ah, but I'm much older and wiser now."

"Not nearly as old and wise as I am."

"Ah, but whereas you are nearing the realm of old and feeble, I am still young and strong."

"Is this a game?" Henry asked.

"Be quiet," Dunford snapped. "This is none of your concern."

"Isn't it?" Unable to believe his nerve and Ned's sudden defection to the camp of stupid, mindless, arrogant males, she threw up her arms and walked away. The two of them probably wouldn't even notice her absence until she was halfway down the street, so obsessed were they with their rooster-like strutting.

She was wrong.

She'd taken only three steps when a firm hand closed around the sash at her waist and reeled her back in.

"You," Dunford said icily, "aren't going anywhere." He turned his gaze to Ned. "And you are. Make yourself scarce, Edward."

Ned looked at Henry, his expression telling her that if she just said the word, he'd take her back home that instant. She doubted he could best Dunford in an out-and-out fight, although a draw was possible. But surely Dunford wouldn't want to cause such a scene in the middle of Bond Street. Chin up, she told him so.

"Do you really believe that, Henry?" he asked, his voice low.

She nodded jerkily.

He leaned forward. "I'm angry, Henry."

Her eyes widened as she remembered his words back at Stannage Park.

Don't make the mistake of making me angry, Henry.

You're not angry now?

Believe me, when I get angry you'll know.

"Uhh, Ned," she said quickly, "perhaps you had better leave."

"Are you certain?"

"There is no need to play the knight in bloody shining armor," Dunford snapped.

"You'd better go," Henry said. "I'll be fine."

Ned didn't look convinced, but he acceded to her wishes and walked stiffly away.

"What was the meaning of that?" Henry demanded, turning on Dunford. "You were deplorably rude, and—"

"Hush," he said, looking disgustingly composed. "We'll cause a scene, if we haven't done so already."

"You just said you didn't care if we caused a scene."

"I didn't say I didn't care. I merely implied that I would be willing to cause one to get what I want." He took her arm. "Come along, Hen. We need to talk."

"But my maid..."

"Where is she?"

"Right there." She motioned to a woman standing a few paces away. Dunford went over to speak with her, and she scurried off with alacrity.

"What did you say to her?" Henry asked.

"Nothing other than that I am your guardian, and you will be safe with me."

"Somehow I doubt that," she muttered.

Dunford was inclined to agree with her, considering how badly he wanted to drag her back to his town house, haul her up the stairs, and have his wicked way with her. But he remained silent, partly because he didn't care to frighten her, and partly because he realized his thoughts were sounding like a bad novel and he didn't want his words to do the same.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"For a carriage ride."

"A carriage ride?" she echoed doubtfully, glancing about for a carriage.

He began to walk, skillfully moving her along so she didn't realize she was being pulled. "We are going to my house, and then we are getting into one of my carriages and riding around London, because that is just about the only place I can get you alone without utterly destroying your reputation."

For a moment Henry forgot he had humiliated her the previous night. She even forgot that she was thoroughly furious with him, so heartened was she by his desire to be alone with her. But then she remembered. Good God, Henry, is that what you think this is about? It hadn't been his words that were so damning; it had been the tone of his voice and the expression on his face.

She chewed nervously on her lower lip as she quickened her pace to keep up with his long strides.

No, he certainly was not enamored of her, and that meant she should not be the least bit excited by the fact that he wanted to be alone with her. He most likely was planning to deliver a blistering set-down about her supposedly scandalous behavior the night before. In all truth Henry did not think she had behaved in any improper fashion, but Dunford certainly seemed to think that she had done something wrong, and no doubt he wanted to tell her precisely why.