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admittance.
    “Surely you do not actually expect them to hear that, do you? The volume of inane chatter within would drown the sound of a highland brigade’s entrance. Go on, give it a real knock,” Edmund urged.
    Franklin scraped his knuckles against the door once more, then grasped the handle and turned it slowly. He bowed to Mrs. Rutherford. “Your son, madam, wishes to inform you of his return.”
    Edmund reached the doorway a few seconds later and offered a bland smile of greeting.
    “Oh, look, Miss Newman.” His mother turned to a tall young lady who chatted with two older matrons near the fire. “Edmund has arrived. Will you not come in and pay your respects to the club, my dear? Many of our friends have not seen you in some time.”
    Edmund could hear a certain amount of whispering as he made his way around the room with his mother, but he met no more than a few incredulous or disapproving stares. Impossible as it seemed, many of these older ladies, who never stirred from the house past sunset, had either not heard the tales of his behavior two nights ago or had not believed them.
    The ones who did obviously had enough manners, or at least enough sense, to keep quiet in the presence of his mother. Had anyone said anything outright, his mother would probably have no qualms about asking the offender to choose a weapon and name her second.
    Jeanne, of course, was another matter entirely.
    And why was she here? She stood out like a thistle among violets, a head taller and a generation younger than any other lady in the room. And she alone among his mother’s guests showed no compunction against staring at him outright. Every time he glanced in her direction, she was staring. Somehow, she managed to move about so that, as he and his mother circled the room, she remained on the opposite side.
    Actually, he didn’t mind that at all.
    He noticed with pleasure that they now approached the sofa that had been the starting point on their social circuit. He would be able to make his escape shortly. And, apparently, he would not even have to exchange words with his betrothed.
    He would have to explain things to his mother later, of course. But for now, he would be free to rest.
    “Good afternoon, ladies.” He bowed before stepping out into the hall, where Franklin waited to close the door behind him.
    * * * * *
     
    Someone was knocking on his head again.
    No, that was not it. The knocking in his head reverberated with a low, steady pulse. This other knocking was harsh, uneven and coming from somewhere over his left shoulder.
    “Edmund, open this door,” a feminine voice hissed. “I know you’re in there.”
    Edmund sat up and pried open his eyes. He was sitting at his desk, his arms folded over a sheaf of papers as a makeshift pillow. He had been fast asleep.
    But a bad dream woke him up.
    And she was standing outside, demanding entrance.
    With eyes still half shut, he pushed his chair away from the desk and made his way over to the door by touch as much as by sight. He fumbled with the lock for moment, then realized the door had never been locked to begin with.
    He heard an impatient huff from the other side. “Pray hurry. I do not wish anyone to see me.”
    Edmund opened the door wide enough so that he could see Jeanne, but not wide enough for her to gain admittance. “Why did you not simply enter, then?”
    Jeanne pushed past him into the room. “Don’t be ridiculous. I could never be so rude.”
    “Indeed not,” Edmund offered as he closed the door behind her. “I am sorry that I did not answer your summons right away. I had a headache and must have fallen asleep.”
    “Why did you not go up to your bedroom?”
    “I thought I’d better attend to some correspondence first.”
    “And did you?”
    “Well, let us say that I put a few matters to rest. Now,” he said as he motioned for her to take a seat on the sofa near the window. “Whatever can have drawn your attention from the riveting activities of