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studied him, taking his measure. Devious thoughts careened through her head as she decided on the best yarn to spin.
    “I might have been leaving,” she ultimately admitted.
    “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
    “Are you always this smug?”
    “Yes.”
    “I don’t like it.”
    “As I’ve previously mentioned, I don’t care.”
    “You are the most vain man I’ve ever met.”
    “And you are the most infuriating woman. What misbegotten notion has convinced you to flee the safety of my home in the middle of the night?”
    “You’re not going to like it.”
    “Try me.”
    “You’re not going to believe me, either.”
    “Miss Lambert, I am giving you a chance to explain yourself. Please take it!”
    “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She dithered and debated, then blurted out, “I hate your wards.”
    “You hate Melanie and Miranda? How could you have generated an abhorrence so rapidly?”
    “After you and I concluded our interview, they accosted me in the hall.”
    “And?”
    “They threatened me with bodily harm if I took the job.”
    “They did not.”
    “They did!”
    “Ridiculous.”
    “See? I told you you wouldn’t believe me.”
    At her umbrage, he snorted. “Pardon my skepticism, but why would they terrorize you? It’s not as if you’ll have any great authority over them.”
    “They don’t want a chaperone. Their father let them do whatever they liked, and they’re irritated by your coddling.”
    He scowled, irked that—after a purportedly brief encounter in a deserted corridor—she knew more about the twins than he did after over a year of acquaintance.
    Their father had been a school chum with whom John had occasionally gamboled. They’d been cordial, but hardly close, and he’d only met the twins twice and that was when they were children.
    Their father had died—in a messy, hushed suicide—and John had been shocked to learn that he’d been named as their guardian. There had been no way to refuse the obligation.
    He’d offered to find them husbands, but they’d claimed they weren’t ready to wed, so he’d brought them to reside with the family. He’d done what he could to accommodate them, but they were an onerous burden, and he didn’t wish to be further encumbered.
    He simply wanted them to have a chaperone so that he didn’t have to fuss with them. Was that too much to ask?
    “They’re eighteen,” he said, “but to me, they’re still girls. They require watching.”
    “They’re girls , all right. Cruel, vicious ones.”
    “They are not.”
    “They are!”
    “They need a companion, and it will be you.”
    “Don’t tell me. Tell them.”
    “I have.”
    “It doesn’t appear that they listened.”
    Could it be true? How was it that he—a man who was heeded, no matter how grand or insignificant his remarks—was suddenly being vexed by females who ignored everything he said?
    First Miss Lambert, now Melanie and Miranda. If he wasn’t careful, he’d have a full-blown feminine rebellion on his hands.
    “Don’t make me do it,” she pleaded. “Don’t make me stay.”
    “I don’t have time to search for anyone else.”
    “They informed me that they’ll involve me in all sorts of mischief. They plan to trick and deceive you until you fire me.”
    Could she be correct? Had the twins harassed the others whom he’d terminated? The possibility was too outrageous, and he couldn’t credit it.
    He scoffed at her. “You have the most vivid imagination.”
    “I’m not imagining it.”
    She looked so forlorn, and her melancholy was exasperating.
    Women loved him. They begged for opportunities to enjoy his company—even though he shared it sparingly. Yet she couldn’t wait to be shed of him and the security he would provide.
    She was still leaned against the bedpost, and he stepped in again, tickled by how the area around them was instantly enlivened. A thrilling intimacy was growing, and there was the most marvelous sense of expectation, as if any