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his seat. “What’s this?” He gestured toward the top
     of the square mahogany table positioned between our two chairs.
    “It’s a puzzle.”
    He leaned forward to pick up one of the unfitted pieces scattered across the table
     surface. “A puzzle? I thought they were a child’s toy, used to teach them their geography?”
    “They are. Philip has a friend in Edinburgh who manufactures them, and he has been
     trying to market them to adults as well, by using pictures instead of maps and dicing
     them into a greater number of pieces. They haven’t caught on yet, but whenever Philip
     journeys to Edinburgh, he brings me back some of the prototypes. He has also taken
     a few substandard paintings to his friend and asked him to cut the images into puzzles
     especially for me.”
    “Is
this
one of your paintings?” he asked, gesturing to the image of a castle and surrounding
     countryside beginning to take shape on the table.
    “No. I do have a few puzzles made from the more inferior landscapes I’ve produced
     over the years, but most of them are made from pictures Philip finds in Edinburgh.”
    “No portraits?” he teased.
    I met his eyes squarely. “None of my portraits are inferior,” I replied, as certain
     of my talent as Gage was certain of his charm.
    He studied me for a moment before nodding. “I’ve seen the portrait of your sister
     in the parlor, and a few more of your works. They are exquisite.”
    “Thank you.” I felt a tingle of warmth at the base of my neck, as I always felt when
     someone praised my work. Since the scandal, I had not received many such compliments.
    Gage’s eyes dropped back to the table. “So you have an interest in puzzles as well?”
    I looked down at the wooden pieces, automatically analyzing the segments for the next
     section to fit. “They pass the time at night when I can’t sleep.”
    I felt his eyes studying me again. “You have trouble sleeping?” The query was made
     lightly, but I sensed his interest.
    It seemed harmless to assuage his curiosity. “Sometimes.”
    “Have you tried reading?”
    “Yes. But that doesn’t make me sleepy. Philip says the puzzles work because they are
     a mindless activity.”
    Gage looked confused. “I would think sorting and fitting together a puzzle would be
     more stimulating. Does it truly put you to sleep?”
    “Well, no,” I admitted. “But it soothes me.” I blushed, feeling somehow I had admitted
     far more than I wanted to. I breathed deeply, knowing a change of topic was necessary
     before he pushed me further. “Mr. Gage, I truly would like to go to bed. Do you honestly
     need to stay here with me for an hour? I assure you my mind is steady.” I sighed,
     sinking deeper into my chair. “I grant you that I may be in danger of passing out,
     but from fatigue, not physical injury. I promise you I shall wake again in the morning.”
    He looked me up and down, as if he could see some sort of physical manifestation of
     the state of my health.
    “If necessary, I shall recite all sorts of tedious information to you if that is what
     it will require to convince you to
leave
,” I declared, determined to remove him from my chamber.
    His lips quirked at my slip of temper. “I believe you, Lady Darby. You do, indeed,
     seem sound.”
    “Then will you please go?”
    His hand lifted to cover his heart. “My fair lady, you wound me. Do you not realize
     what a novel experience this is for me? I have never had a woman request that I leave
     her bedchamber before. Normally they are begging me to stay.”
    I rolled my eyes, even as my heart gave a traitorous flip at hearing him call me fair.
     “My abject apologies,” I drawled. “I had no idea your feelings . . .” a soft shush
     of sound distracted me, drawing my attention toward the door “. . . were so delicate.
     What was that?” I asked, sitting forward.
    “I don’t know.” He frowned and crossed toward the door. Along the way, he bent to
     pick up