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“Three of them! What did they take?”

“Nothing. But we think that they were looking for that selfsame book at Haverly House. The thief was discovered in the library. That was when we first became interested in the Queen’s book. I don’t know who the thief is, although I have my suspicions, and I promise you that if, in the course of investigating him, I find your book in his possession, I will make sure that it is returned to you promptly.”

“Investigating him?” Cassandra repeated. “Do you mean to tell me that you have hired someone to investigate David?”

“Yes, this morning,” he replied calmly. “I hired a man to follow him. Obviously I should have done it yesterday evening, and then he would have been caught trying to steal the Queen’s Book.”

“What is so special about this book?” Aunt Ardis asked, puzzled.

“Are you saying that David Miller stole it?” Joanna added, her eyes getting bigger and rounder.

“That is my suspicion.”

“And nothing more,” Cassandra stressed.

“My fiancée has a soft spot for Mr. Miller,” Philip said in a sardonic aside toward Mr. Bigby.

Cassandra made a face at him. “That’s not true. I am simply pointing out that David Miller wouldn’t have known to break into Mr. Bigby’s house to get the book. We are the only ones who knew it was there.”

“If you will remember, my dear, when he came to call yesterday, Miss Moulton told him that we were at Mr. Bigby’s, looking at books. I don’t imagine it would have been hard for him to put two and two together.”

Cassandra’s eyes widened. “Oh, my, you’re right.” She sighed. “I guess there’s no escaping it. Mr. Miller must be the thief.”

“I’m afraid so, my dear. I know you hate to think it, but it is rather clear.”

Aunt Ardis and Joanna continued to exclaim over the likelihood of David Miller’s being a thief all the rest of the morning as the carriage left London. Mr. Bigby had finally left, mostly appeased, and they had been able to depart, only somewhat delayed.

Cassandra found the return journey to Haverly House much less tedious than the one coming to London. Philip rode inside the carriage most of the time, suffering the presence of Aunt Ardis and Joanna in order to be with Cassandra. It was a kind of exquisite torture for Cassandra to be so close to him and yet have to maintain a proper decorum in front of her aunt and cousin. She was supremely aware of his body beside her, of his broad shoulders and muscled thigh almost touching her, of his heat and masculine scent. She found herself gazing at the way his black hair curled forward just behind his ear and, moreover, finding it strangely endearing. She studied the firm bones of his jaw and cheek, the dark sweep of his lashes, and was tempted to trace the lines of his face with her forefinger.

He had not come again to her bedroom, telling her that he wanted no more risk to her reputation, particularly the night they spent in the public inn on the way home to Haverly House. Cassandra had difficulty going to sleep for thinking about him and his lovemaking. She was beginning to decide that she must be a rather wanton person to think such thoughts so much of the time. As the time passed, it seemed that she was thinking them more and more. She hoped that soon Philip would overcome his noble impulses and return to her bed.

They reached Haverly House in the afternoon. The children, who had spotted them coming up the long drive on the lane from the third-story nursery windows, came pelting down to greet them. The two Lady Nevilles arrived at a slower pace, with Sarah Yorke following them.

“Why, Philip, I had not expected you back so soon,” Violet said, looking puzzled. “I was just telling Miss Yorke that it would probably be two weeks before you returned. Now you have made me out to be a liar.”

“Hello, Mother. Grandmother.” He greeted both his mother and grandmother with a peck on the cheek. “I am sure Miss Yorke will understand that the untruth was caused by my erratic nature, not your lack of veracity. We simply finished our business much sooner than expected.” He turned toward Sarah. “Miss Yorke. How are you?”

“I am in excellent health and spirits, Sir Philip. As are all the boys. They will be very happy to hear that you are back. I must go now. I am sure you wish to visit with your family. I just came over for Lady Neville’s recipe for blancmange.”

“No, wait, don’t leave yet, Miss Yorke,” Philip said persuasively. “You are practically one of the family, and I have an announcement to make. ’Tis easier to do it all at once.”

Everyone turned interested eyes on him at these words. Cassandra suspected what he was about to say, and she went pale, her stomach clenching. She should not have let it go this far, she knew; she should have convinced Philip that he did not have to marry her. It had been sheer selfishness on her part to let it go on. She was certain that his mother would be appalled at the engagement, and his stiff-backed grandmother even more so!

Philip took her arm, pulling her forward.

“Philip, no! Wait!” she whispered frantically, but he only smiled.

“Don’t be silly. Now is the perfect time.” He turned back to Violet. “Mother, Grandmother.” He bowed toward the younger set, who were all watching, wide-eyed. “Everyone. I have asked Miss Verrere to be my wife, and she has graciously given me her consent.”

There was a moment of intense silence. Cassandra wished that she could sink into the ground. Then Lady Violet held out her arms to her son, saying, “Oh, Philip! I have waited so long for this day. I can’t tell you how happy I am.”

Violet hugged him, and Georgette let out a shriek and ran to him, jumping on him as soon as their mother released him. “I knew it! I just knew it! What took you so long? I told Olivia two days after they got here that I had never seen you so gone on a girl.”

The rest of the two families crowded around, offering their congratulations. Philip’s mother hugged Cassandra and welcomed her to the family, and even old Lady Neville offered Cassandra her cheek to kiss and told her that her grandson had excellent taste.

“But I—I mean—” Cassandra realized that she could hardly tell Philip’s mother and grandmother that she did not intend to hold Philip to his offer of marriage, that, indeed, there hadn’t actually been an offer. She certainly was not about to admit that she and Philip had been caught in a compromising position. Finally she smiled. “I was afraid that you wouldn’t approve.”

“Not approve?” the older Lady Neville said with a sniff. “Why ever not? Verrere has always been a good name. Sister to Lord Chesilworth and all that. Quite appropriate, I think.”