"He will?" Celeste looked extremely uncertain. "Why should he bother to do that?"

"Blade has a very noble and gallant nature," Emily assured her.

Nevil's voice rose out in the hall. "See here, this is none of your business, my good man," Nevil informed Simon in a very loud and aggrieved tone. "My fiancee has locked herself up in this room with some other female. I am not leaving until I have Celeste out of there."

"The other female in there with her, according to the innkeeper, is my wife," Simon said icily. "Get away from that door or I shall break your damn neck."

"Who the hell do you think you are to order me about?" Nevil squawked. "I will not tolerate any interference. I'm on my way to the border and I'll thank you to… What the hell?"

Emily brightened as she heard the startled squeak with which Nevil ended his question. It was followed by a yell and a loud crashing noise. Emily put down the poker and turned proudly to Celeste. "I told you Simon would take care of Nevil."

"Emily?" Simon's voice sounded astonishingly calm on the other side of the door. "Are you in there?"

"Yes, Simon, I am in here." Emily hurried toward the door.

"Open up at once. I have had enough of this nonsense."

"One moment, Simon," Emily called back, dragging the chair away from the door.

Celeste cringed. "He does not sound very pleased to have found you after being tragically parted from you."

"Details. In any event, if I do not open the door, you can be certain he will find a way to break it down in a much more efficient fashion than your Nevil did."

"Oh, Emily, you poor thing. He sounds a perfect beast."

"A dragon, actually." Emily was panting again with the exertion of moving the chair and the chest. She finally managed to clear them away from in front of the door.

Then she hastily unlatched the locks and a few seconds later yanked open the door with a triumphant smile. Simon stood there in a damp greatcoat, riding breeches, and mud-spattered boots. His expression was calm and totally controlled except for the banked flames in his golden eyes.

"Well, Emily?"

Emily did not hesitate. She hurled herself straight into his arms. "Simon, you saved us. I told Celeste you would."

Simon hesitated, clearly taken by surprise at his welcome. Then his arms went around her, squeezing her so tightly she could not breathe. Emily was swamped in the multiple capes of the heavy greatcoat for a minute or two. When she finally struggled free of them to glance down the corridor, she saw a young man lying crumpled and ominously still on the floor.

"Oh, excellent work, Simon." She looked up at her husband with glowing approval. "You certainly took care of that wretched man. Is he dead?"

Simon cocked a brow at her expectant expression. "You are a bloodthirsty little thing, are you not? Strange. I had not realized. No, he is not dead. But I do not think he will be kicking in any more doors for a while."

A new voice sounded from the top of the stairs. "Sir, sir, what is all this fuss about?" The innkeeper hurried forward, wringing his hands. "I run a respectable establishment. I cannot allow fighting in the halls. The other guests will be most annoyed by the noise."

Simon gave the small man a lethal look. "In respectable establishments young ladies of quality do not find themselves obliged to barricade their doors."

The innkeeper glanced nervously at Emily and then at Celeste, who was peeking out of the bedchamber. "Well, yer lordship, as to that, neither of these young ladies was traveling with a companion or a maid and I naturally had to assume they were not genuinely of the quality, if you take my meanin'."

Simon's glance grew even more dangerous. "You obviously made some very stupid assumptions. This lady is my wife and the lady with her is a friend. They had arranged to rendezvous here and wait for me. I was temporarily delayed by the weather. You may have noticed there is a severe storm going on outside."

"Yes, yer lordship," the innkeeper agreed immediately. "Coming down in buckets, it is."

Simon smiled thinly. "I expected my wife and her friend to be safe and comfortable here while I took care of other matters."

The beleaguered innkeeper looked more harried than ever. His anxious, darting glance went from Emily, who was smiling at him with a very superior sort of smile, to the silent, still Nevil. "I beg your pardon, sir. I did not properly understand the situation. Obviously there has been a mistake."

"Obviously." Simon nodded curtly toward the man on the floor. "I suggest you remove him at once."

"Yes, yer lordship, I shall see to it immediately." The innkeeper turned away to bellow down the stairs for his servant. "Owen, come up here and lend me a hand, boy. Hurry."

Simon glanced over Emily's head into the bedchamber where Celeste was hovering. His gaze narrowed thoughtfully. Then he looked down at Emily again. "Now, suppose you and your friend come downstairs at once and explain precisely what is going on here, madam?"

"Of course, Simon." Emily beamed. "It is really very simple."

"Somehow, I find that difficult to believe. Pray, do not keep me waiting long." Simon turned toward the stairs, the greatcoat swinging around him like an elegant cape.

"Yes, Simon. We will be right down," Emily called after him.

But he was already on the stairs and did not bother to acknowledge her obedience. Emily stepped back into the room and found Celeste gazing at her with huge eyes. The hankie in her hand was crushed into a mangled lump.

"What on earth is wrong now?" Emily asked.

"I fear your husband is quite angry," Celeste said weakly. "Perhaps he will blame me for getting you into this situation."

"For pity's sake, Celeste. Simon is not about to blame you. He is a very just and honorable man. We shall soon have it all sorted out. I think it would be best if we do as he instructed, however. Are you ready to go downstairs?"

"Yes. I suppose there is no help for it." Celeste dabbed at her eyes with the hankie. "I wish Mama were here."

"Well, she is not, so we shall have to muddle through on our own. You may leave all the explanations to me. I am very good at that sort of thing." Emily straightened her spectacles, shook out her skirts, and led the way toward the stairs.

Simon was waiting for them in a private parlor. He had removed his greatcoat and hat and was sitting in front of the fire, a mug of ale in his hand. He rose with grave politeness as Emily and Celeste entered.

Emily rushed to properly introduce Celeste, who looked more nervous than ever. There was a deliberate pause before Simon responded to the introduction.

"Northcote's daughter?" he finally murmured, his gaze hooded.

Celeste nodded mutely. Emily started to ask why she had given her last name as Hamilton, but Simon was speaking again.

"You were running off to Gretna Green?" he asked Celeste. "I imagine your father will have a few words to say about that."

Celeste looked down at the floor. "Yes, my lord. He probably will."

Emily frowned at Simon as she hugged Celeste reassuringly. "Do not worry, Celeste. Blade will talk to your father and all will be well."

"Will I, indeed?" Simon took a swallow of ale and eyed his wife over the rim of the mug. "Just what do you suggest I say to the marquess?"

Emily blinked. "Marquess?"

"Your new friend is the eldest daughter of the Marquess of Northcote."

"Oh." Emily considered that. "I believe I have heard of him."

"No doubt," Simon said dryly. "He is one of the richest and most powerful men in London." He glanced at Celeste. "And I presume he will be close on the heels of his fleeing daughter."

Celeste burst into tears once more. "Papa will never forgive me."

"Of course he will," Emily said bracingly. "I told you, Blade will explain everything."