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arm beneath her shoulders again and lifted her to a sitting position. He held the glass while she drank. Her hands, he could see, were temporarily paralyzed.
    She turned her head away after she had taken a few sips, and her long disheveled hair hid her face from his view. “You are Eden?” she asked, and coughed. “What do you want with me? I will not be intimidated. You may kill me if you wish, but I will not plead with my father to pay you a ransom. And I will not submit without a struggle to being ravished.”
    â€œEden?” he said, straightening up and standing beside the bed. “My brother has brought you here?”
    Her pale handsome face suddenly flushed quite painfully, and she pulled at the skirt of her gown. She had to lift her hips in order to loosen it. He kept his eyes on her face while she did so. She sat up abruptly on the side of the bed, and one hand collapsed clumsily beneath her as she used it to push herself upright.
    â€œThis is an outrage,” she said, her voice shaking very slightly. “I demand to be released.”
    â€œI agree with you entirely, ma’am,” he said quietly, and reached out to tug on the silk-tasseled bell-pull beside the bed. “May I know who you are so that I might communicate with your family? They must be frantic with worry.”
    â€œMy father is Lord Beckworth,” she said. “We live on Curzon Street.”
    â€œI know him,” Lord Amberley said with a frown. “May I ask how you got here, Miss…?”
    â€œI was abducted,” she said, “by two men. I was at Lady Easton’s ball. They said that Eden would be here soon. But that must have been many hours ago.”
    â€œLord Eden is my younger brother,” he said. “Ah! Do come in, Mrs. Haviland. This lady has come to be here by some misadventure involving Lord Eden. Will you stay with her here, please, and see that she is made comfortable and has some refreshments, while I send for her father? She has been tied up and gagged for several hours. I believe she would appreciate having someone massage her hands.”
    â€œOh, please,” the dark-haired handsome girl said as he turned to leave her in some privacy, “not my father. Please, will you send for my brother instead? James Purnell. He will come.”
    Lord Amberley nodded and bowed to her, as the housekeeper, clucking her tongue, crossed to the bed and picked up one of the girl’s hands. He left the room and closed the door quietly behind him. It was perhaps as well that the very first thing he must do was compose a swift note to the girl’s brother. Perhaps by the time he had done so his present white fury would have cooled down just sufficiently that he would not quite throttle his brother when he went to his room to confront him.
    Perhaps. Though he doubted it. The twins had always had a gift for getting into the most unbelievable scrapes. But this was not a scrape. Not by any means. A young girl had just been abused and terrified probably beyond his power to imagine, and her character and reputation destroyed, possibly beyond repair.
    Oh, no, this was no scrape. Heads would surely roll over this.

    T HE AGONY OF FEELING the blood needling and knifing its way back through her hands was finally subsiding to a dull throbbing. Her fingers still looked and felt swollen, but she could begin to flex them. Her mouth still felt dry even after two cups of tea. Alexandra sat in the dressing room adjoining the bedchamber where she had been held prisoner. The Earl of Amberley’s housekeeper sat with her, still clucking with concern after sending a maid scurrying for tea, and after chafing her hands and wrapping a soft shawl around her shoulders instead of the crumpled cloak. Alexandra had discovered the identity of her rescuer, though she had learned very little else. She still did not know any more about Lord Eden except that he was the Earl of Amberley’s brother.
    She