Ethan looked at her alertly. “Mutual?”

“Why else would I be lurking with you in a servants’ stairwell?” she asked dryly. “Of course it’s mutual, although I haven’t your pretty way of putting things—”

She would have continued, but his mouth had fastened on hers. His fingers cradled her jaw and cheek as he drew up pleasure from some depthless well inside her. Blindly she clung to his neck and lifted on her toes to make the kiss deeper, stronger.

His chest expanded with a violent breath or two, and then he fumbled to clasp her arms and hold her back. “You have to leave, Garrett,” he said unsteadily.

She tried to gather her wits. “Why can’t I stay?”

“I have something important to do.”

“What is it?”

Unaccustomed to taking anyone into his confidence, Ethan hesitated before replying. “I have to obtain something. Without being noticed by anyone.”

“Including Jenkyn?”

“Especially him.”

“I’ll help you,” Garrett said readily.

“I don’t need help. I need you to be far away from here.”

“I can’t leave. It would look odd, and I have my own reputation to consider. Besides, my presence provides an excuse to slip away and steal whatever it is you’re after. Take me with you, and Sir Jasper will assume we’ve gone somewhere to . . . well, to do what we’re doing right now.”

Ethan’s face might have been carved from granite. But his touch was gentle as he stroked her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. “Have you ever heard the expression ‘catching a wolf by the ears’?”

“No.”

“It means you’re in trouble whether you hold on or let go.”

Garrett nuzzled her cheek against his hand. “If you’re the wolf, then I’ll hold on.”

Recognizing the impossibility of sending her away, Ethan uttered a quiet curse and pulled her so close that her heels were suspended from the floor. His mouth found her neck, and did something between a kiss and a bite, very gentle but with the edges of his teeth. The flat of his tongue stroked her, and she gasped at the corresponding throb down between her thighs.

“Tonight I’m Edward Randolph,” she heard him say quietly. “A builder from Durham.”

It took Garrett a moment to understand. Gamely she entered into the pretense. “Why have you come all the way from Durham, Mr. Randolph?”

“To persuade a few members of Parliament to vote against a bill on building regulations. And while I’m in town, I’m taking in the sights of London.”

“What do you most want to see? The Tower? The British Museum?”

His head lifted. “I’m looking at it,” he said, his gaze holding hers for a few searing seconds before he took her into the refreshments room.

Chapter 12

Relentless noises slurried the air: conversation; laughter; the creaking of the floor underfoot; the clinks of silver, porcelain, and glass; the rattling of trays, the snapping of fans. Guests surrounded the long tables in the effort to obtain lemonade or ices. As a footman entered the room bearing a tray of desserts, Ethan reached out to snatch one before the servant reached his destination. The movement was so deft and quick that the footman hadn’t even noticed it.

Drawing Garrett to a corner where a tall feather palm occupied a terra-cotta pot, Ethan handed the glass dish to her. It contained a frosty mound of lemon ice, with a tiny mother-of-pearl demitasse spoon tucked at the side.

Garrett received it gratefully and took a bite of the tart, icy fluff. It melted on her tongue instantly, luscious thin coldness sliding down her throat.

A sense of unreality drifted over her as she stared up into Ethan Ransom’s face. The severe perfection of his appearance was slightly unnerving.

After taking another bite of lemon ice, she asked hesitantly, “How have you been since we last met?”

“Well enough,” Ethan said, although his expression conveyed he hadn’t been well at all.

“I tried to imagine what you were doing, but I have no idea what your typical day is like.”

He seemed vaguely amused by that. “I don’t have typical days.”

Garrett tilted her head as she looked up at him. “Would you mind if you did? That is, would you dislike keeping to a regular schedule?”

“It would help if the job were interesting.”

“What would you do, if you could choose anything?”

“Something in law enforcement, probably.” His gaze swept the room, his expression inscrutable. “I have a hobby I wouldn’t mind spending more time on.”

“Oh?”

“I design locks,” he said.

Garrett regarded him uncertainly. “Are you speaking as Mr. Randolph?”

His lips twitched as he looked down at her. “No, I’ve meddled with locks since I was a boy.”

“No wonder you were so critical of my front door,” Garrett said, fighting the temptation to reach up and touch the dimple in his cheek. “Thank you for the improvements you made . . . the lock and hinges . . . and the lion’s-head knocker. I like it very much.”

Ethan’s voice was soft. “Did you like the violets?”

She hesitated before shaking her head.

“No?” he asked, more softly still. “Why not?”

“They reminded me that I might never see you again.”

“After tonight, you probably won’t.”

“You say that every time we meet. However, you keep popping up like a jack-in-the-box, which has made me increasingly skeptical.” Garrett paused before adding in an abashed tone, “And hopeful.”

His gaze caressed her face. “Garrett Gibson . . . as long as I’m on this earth, I’ll want to be wherever you are.”

She couldn’t help smiling ruefully. “You’re the only one who does. I’ve been in a foul mood for the past two weeks. I’ve offended nearly everyone I know, and frightened off one or two of my patients.”

His voice was dark velvet. “You needed me there to sweeten your temper.”

Garrett couldn’t bring herself to look at him as she admitted huskily, “Yes.”

They were both silent then, suffused in the awareness of each other’s presence, nerve endings collecting invisible signals as if their bodies were communicating by semaphore. Garrett made herself take the last bite of lemon ice, little more than a spoonful of slush, but her throat was so tight with pleasure she could hardly swallow.

Gently Ethan took the bowl from her and gave it to a passing servant. He escorted Garrett back to the drawing room, where they joined a circle of a half dozen ladies and gentlemen. Ethan turned out to be accomplished at drawing-room etiquette, at ease with the courtesies expected of a gentleman introducing himself. It hardly escaped Garrett’s notice that he drew every female gaze in the vicinity. Ladies fluttered and preened in his presence, one even brazenly fanning her bosom in the attempt to draw his notice. Although Garrett tried to muster some sophisticated amusement, the feeling was soon crushed flat by annoyance.

The small talk was interrupted as the Home Secretary, Lord Tatham, appeared at one of the drawing-room doorways. He announced that the ladies and gentlemen were now invited into the double salon for some musical entertainment. The mass of humid, suffocated bodies began to move as a herd. Ethan held back with Garrett, letting people push past them.

“There’ll be nothing left but the worst seats in the back rows,” Garrett warned, “if there are any left at all.”

“Exactly.”

She realized Ethan intended to steal whatever it was he’d come for while the guests were being entertained.

A familiar gravelly voice intruded on her thoughts. “I seem to have been replaced as your escort, Dr. Gibson.” It was Dr. Havelock, who appeared to be in a jovial mood. “However, since you’re in the company of Mr. Ravenel, I will relinquish my role with good grace.”

Garrett blinked in surprise, having never known the keen-minded Havelock to make such a mistake before. She glanced quickly at Ethan’s expressionless face, and back to the older man. “Dr. Havelock, this is Mr. Randolph of Durham.”

Perplexed, Dr. Havelock looked more closely at Ethan. “I beg your pardon, sir. I could have sworn you were a Ravenel.” He turned to Garrett. “He favors the earl’s younger brother, does he not?”

“I couldn’t say,” Garrett replied, “since I haven’t yet been introduced to Mr. Ravenel, although Lady Helen has promised it will happen someday.”

“Mr. Ravenel came to the clinic,” Dr. Havelock remarked, “to visit Lady Pandora after her surgery. Were you not introduced to him then?”

“Regretfully, no.”

Dr. Havelock shrugged, and smiled at Ethan. “Randolph, is it? A pleasure.” They exchanged a firm handshake. “In case you weren’t aware, my good fellow, you are in the company of one of the most skilled and accomplished women in England. In fact, I would say Dr. Gibson has a male brain in a woman’s body.”

Garrett grinned wryly at his last comment, which she knew had been intended as a compliment. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Despite my short acquaintance with Dr. Gibson,” Ethan said, “her brain seems entirely female to me.” The remark caused Garrett to stiffen slightly, as she expected a mocking comment to follow. Something about how a woman’s mind was changeable, or shallow, the usual clichés. But as Ethan continued, there was no hint of teasing in his tone. “Keen, subtle, and quick, with an intellect strengthened by compassion—yes, she has a woman’s mind.”

Thrown off guard, Garrett stared at him with a touch of wonder.

In that brief, private moment, Ethan looked as if he really did prefer her to everything else in the world. As if he saw all of her, the good and the bad, and wouldn’t change a thing about her.

As if from a distance, she heard Havelock’s voice. “Your new friend has a silver tongue, Dr. Gibson.”

“Indeed, he does,” Garrett said, managing to tear her gaze from Ethan’s. “Would you mind if I continue to keep company with Mr. Randolph?”

“Not at all,” Havelock assured her. “That spares me from having to listen to the musicale, when I would much rather indulge in a cigar with friends in the smoking room.”

“A cigar?” Garrett repeated, pretending to be shocked. “After all the times I’ve heard you refer to tobacco as a ‘poisonous luxury?’ Not long ago you told me you hadn’t smoked a single cigar since your wedding.”

“Few men can defeat a willpower as strong as mine,” Havelock said. “But by Jove, I’ve done it.”

After Dr. Havelock had left them, Garrett studied Ethan closely. “He was right about something—you do have the look of the Ravenels. Especially your eyes. I can’t think how I missed that before. What an odd coincidence.”