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of her extended arm and found himself staring at her heaving bosom filling out the bodice of her sprigged muslin gown.  Quickly averting his gaze upward, he discovered her eyes swimming in mirth.  “I see little humor in this.”
    “No, of course you do not,” Georgeanne said, then went off into whoops again.
    Marissa reached for Raynor to take her in his arms.  “Uncle Tony, you are so funny.”
    Raynor stood rigid, reluctant to scoop her small body into his arms.  But Marissa gave him little choice when she jumped on him and wrapped herself around this neck.  “You are so funny,” she repeated.
    “And brave,” added Georgeanne. 
    Under his unflinching angry glare, Raynor watched Georgeanne’s smile sober.
    “Yes, brave,” parroted Marissa, this time giving him a bear hug squeeze.
    “And so very chivalrous to come to our aid,” Georgeanne said more seriously.
    “Is that good, Georgie?” Marissa asked.
    Georgeanne didn’t answer her.  Instead, she flashed Raynor an impish look.  “What do you think, my lord?”
    Raynor gave himself a mental shake, trying to erase the memory of Georgeanne’s shapely limbs as he gazed at the tilt of the governess’s kissable lips.  “I think I must have presented you both with more entertainment than you’d see at the fair.”
    “Oh, you are funnier, Uncle Tony!  Isn’t he, Georgie?” Marissa piped up.  “Funnier than all the clowns.”
    “Definitely,” Georgeanne said.  “And much more agile and fleet of foot than any acrobat I have ever seen.”
    Raynor should have taken offense to her banter but couldn’t, for he was enjoying himself too much.  In truth, he could well picture the sight he’d presented, ranting and raving at the rabid rodent with two females scared half out of t heir wits, dancing on the tabletop.  It was all too much, even for his staunch sensibilities, and soon the three were laughing outrageously as Georgeanne recalled one particular vault of satirical merit he had made over a chair.  He, in turn, replayed for them some of their own silly antics, dancing on top of the table.
    As Marissa’s hugs warmed his heart, the sight of Georgeanne standing on the table next to him, where his eyes easily feasted on her charming attributes, suffused him with a different type of warmth that heated his body.
    “What is the meaning of all this?”
    Lady Ashbury’s voice shattered their merriment as a silence prevailed.  Raynor looked from Marissa’s to Georgeanne’s guilty expressio ns, then to Lady Ashbury.  “I’m sorry if we disturbed you, Aunt.  No doubt you were taking your nap,” he replied, reverting instantly back into the haughty aristocrat.
    “The whole house is in an uproar, Anthony.”  Lady Ashbury looked expectantly from one to the next. 
    Raynor glanced at his cohorts and gave a small shake of his head.  He knew if Lady Ashbury was surprised to find her straight laced nephew embracing his little niece and the governess standing on the furniture, she would never say so.  More likely, he suspected, she was pleased with the sense of camaraderie the three of them had shared. 
    “I dare say we might have caused a bit of a ruckus.”  Raynor smiled at Marissa, before hugging her tightly to his chest and setting her down.  Then with a shuddered look, he offered a hand to Georgeanne, who hesitated taking it.  He suppressed a smile as Georgeanne glanced anxiously about for the mouse before she accepted his hand and his assistance getting off the table.  Realizing the futility of trying to catch the frenzied rodent himself, he went to the door and called for reinforcements.  He didn’t have far to go.  The corridor was crowded with servants.
    Bivens and two burly footmen were positioned in front of several maids.  Their befuddled expressions bespoke their dilemma, whether to brave the storm and open the door, thereby discovering what was actually happening in the schoolroom, or wait until summoned.  Obviously,