Augusta sighed. "I assume this means you know what I am searching for, my lord?"

"Your note to Lovejoy for the thousand pounds you owe him." Harry was sorting rapidly through the contents of the center drawer. When he found nothing, he closed it and started opening other drawers in the desk.

It was obvious Harry knew everything. Augusta decided to get an early start on her explanations. "The thing is, Graystone, it was all a mistake."

"On that we agree. A very stupid mistake." He finished going through the last of the drawers and straightened, frowning intently. "But we now have an even larger problem on our hands. I see no sign of your vowels."

"Oh, no. I was certain he would keep them in here. Every man I have ever known keeps his valuable papers in his library desk."

"You have either not known a great many men or you were not privy to all of their secrets. Many men keep their valuables in a safe." Harry started around the desk toward the bookcases.

"A safe. Yes, of course. Why didn't I think of that? Do you suppose Lovejoy has one?"

"No doubt." Harry shifted some volumes on the shelves of the bookcases. He hauled out a few of the larger ones and opened them. When they proved to contain only pages, he put them back on the shelves in exactly the same positions in which he had found them.

Seeing what he was doing, Augusta started working on another row of books. She found nothing. Alarmed that they might not find her vowels after all, she swung around in agitation and nearly stumbled into the globe. She reached out hastily to brace herself.

"Good grief, this is heavy," she muttered.

Harry turned, his gaze riveted on the globe. "Of course. It is just the right size."

"What are you talking about?" Augusta watched in amazement as he moved over to the globe and knelt beside it. She suddenly realized what he was thinking. "How very clever of you, my lord. Do you think this is Lovejoy's safe?"

"I think it is a possibility." Harry was already working on the mechanism that held the globe in its wooden frame. His fingers slid over the wood with a lover's touch, testing and probing. Then he paused. "Ah, yes. There we are."

A moment later some hidden spring gave way and the top half of the globe opened to reveal a hollow interior. A shaft of moonlight revealed a few papers and a small jeweler's box inside.

"Harry. There it is. There's my note." Augusta reached inside to pluck out her IOU. "I have it."

"Right. Let's be off, then." Harry closed the globe. "Damnation."

He went absolutely still at the faint sound of the front door of the house opening and closing. There were booted footsteps in the hall.

"Lovejoy has come home." Augusta's eyes met Harry's as she spoke. "Quick. The window."

"No time. He is coming this way."

Harry was on his feet. He grabbed his cane and her wrist and yanked Augusta toward the sofa at the far end of the room. Pushing her down behind it, he hunkered beside her, the cane in his hand.

She swallowed heavily and did not move so much as a fraction of an inch.

The footsteps paused outside the door of the library. Augusta held her breath, fiercely glad that Harry was here beside her.

The door opened and someone came into the library. Augusta stopped breathing altogether. Dear God, what a mess. And it is all my fault. I might very well succeed in plunging that paragon of propriety, the Earl of Graystone, into a scandal broth tonight. He would never forgive me.

Next to her, Harry did not stir. If he was unduly alarmed about the prospect of impending humiliation and social disaster, he did not show it. He seemed unnaturally calm, even detached as the situation reached a crisis point.

The footsteps crossed the carpet. Glass clinked as someone picked up the brandy decanter near the wing chair. Whoever it was would turn and light a lamp now, Augusta thought in horror.

But a moment later the footsteps retreated back to the door. The door closed softly and the footsteps went on down the hall.

Augusta and Harry were once more alone in the library.

Harry waited a few heartbeats and then surged to his feet, tugging Augusta up beside him. He gave her a small shove. "The window. Hurry."

Augusta hastened to the window and opened it. Harry grasped her around the waist and lifted her up onto the sill.

"Where the devil did you get yourself a pair of trousers?" he muttered.

"They belonged to my brother."

"Have you no notion of propriety at all?"

"Very little, my lord." Augusta dropped down onto the grass and turned to watch him come through the window.

"There is a carriage waiting in a lane down the street." Harry closed the window behind him and took her arm. "Move."

Augusta glanced back over her shoulder and saw a light appear in the upstairs window. Lovejoy was preparing for bed. It had been a near thing and it was not over yet. If he chanced to glance out of his window and look down into the small garden, he might easily see two shadowy figures racing toward the gate.

But there was no angry shout or cry of alarm as Harry and Augusta let themselves out of the garden.

Augusta could feel Harry's fingers clenched like a manacle around her upper arm as he led her quickly down the street.

A hackney carriage went past and then a gig carrying two obviously inebriated young dandies clattered down the street. But no one paid any attention to the man in the black greatcoat or his companion.

Halfway along the street, Harry jerked Augusta to a halt and turned into a lane that was not much more than an alley. The path was almost completely blocked by a handsome closed carnage that bore a familiar crest.

"That is Lady Arbuthnott's carriage, is it not?" Augusta turned startled eyes toward Harry. "What is she doing here? I know she is your friend, but surely you have not made her come out at such an hour. She is too ill for travel."

"She is not here. She was kind enough to loan me the carriage so that my own crest would not be noticed in this part of town. Get inside. Quickly."

Augusta started to obey and then paused to glance up at the familiar-looking figure who sat on the box. He was draped in a many-tiered cape and a hat was pulled low over his bushy brows, but Augusta recognized him instantly.

"Scruggs, is that you?"

"Yes, Miss Ballinger, I fear it is," Scruggs growled in an aggrieved tone. "Summoned from a warm bed, I was, without so much as a by-your-leave. I pride myself on being a first-class butler but I am not paid to handle the ribbons. I was ordered to ape John Coachman tonight, however, and I'll do my best, though I don't imagine I'll get much of a tip."

"You should not be out in the night air," Augusta said with a frown. " 'Tis not good for your rheumatism."

"Aye, that's true enough," Scruggs agreed dourly. "But try telling that to the high and mighty sort who like to run around in the middle of the night."

Harry jerked open the carriage door. "Pray do not concern yourself with Scruggs's rheumatism, Augusta." He seized her lightly around the waist. "It is your own person you need worry about."

"But, Harry—I mean, my lord—ooof." Augusta landed with a thud against the green velvet cushions as Harry tossed her rather negligently inside the dark carriage. She heard him speak to Scruggs as she righted herself.

"Drive until I tell you to return to Lady Arbuthnott's."

"Drive where, man?" Muffled by the carriage, Scruggs's voice sounded different now. The hoarse, rasping tone was gone.

"I do not particularly care," Harry snapped. "Around one of the parks or toward the outskirts of town. It makes no difference. Just see that you do not attract any attention. I have a few things to say to Miss Ballinger and I can think of no other place where I shall have the privacy and leisure in which to say them except inside this carriage."