"Then we must simply do what we can to protect her, with or without her awareness," Nefri said firmly.

He paused a long moment, his heart troubled. "Yes."

Easily sensing his lingering disquiet, Nefri leaned forward to regard him with a hint of concern.

"Sebastian, is there something more troubling you?"

He briefly considered denying his most pressing hesitation. He was supposed to be a gentleman of sense. A gentleman who observed and studied others with a scholar's aloof objectivity. It was not easy to admit, even to himself, that he had somehow lost that necessary edge.

"I am not as ... detached as I should be," he reluctantly confessed.

Surprisingly, Nefri raised her brow as if puzzled by his admission.

"And why do you believe you should be detached?"

Sebastian frowned. "If I am to outwit Drake, then I must have my senses clear. Something that is impossible when Miss Hadwell is near."

Without warning, the vampire gave a low chuckle. "Do not fret, Sebastian. You are perfectly suited to be a Guardian for the Medallion."

Sebastian could not find the humor in his situation. Indeed, he found it all utterly frustrating.

"Oh, I have proved to be quite a Guardian," he said dryly, his fingers still pressed to the slowly healing wound upon his temple. "I cannot even protect myself."

Nefri clicked her tongue. "Do not blame yourself. The vampire you battled tonight possessed great powers. Powers perhaps even greater than my own."

Sebastian could not halt a small shiver as he recalled the fierce attack. There had been something unnerving in the cunning manner he had been lured into the stables and the savagery of the villain. There was also a lingering puzzlement as to the motive for the attack.

Had it simply been designed to allow Drake to be alone with Amelia?

Or had it been meant to put a permanent end to him? And if so, why had the vampire not finished the task? If he were willing to use forbidden powers, he could have destroyed him. Or placed him under a spell that would have held him captive for an eternity.

"But who?" he demanded in harsh tones. "And why attack me?"

Nefri's countenance hardened with a bleak expression. "Those are questions that I fear will be answered soon enough."

After yet another restless night, Amelia rose and attired herself in a muslin gown the soft shade of daffodil. She even took extra care with the raven curls that she piled atop her head, leaving a handful to softly frame her face.

A glance in the mirror assured her that only close scrutiny would reveal the shadows that darkened her eyes and the faint hint of strain upon her features. It was important that she hide her prickling sense of unease. She did not want William or Mrs. Benson fretting needlessly. Having to devote her days to comforting and reassuring them was an additional burden she did not desire.

Smothering a sigh, she ran her hands over the soft muslin of her skirt and squared her shoulders. She was already late for breakfast. If she did not show herself downstairs soon, Mrs.

Benson would be in search of her. The mere thought of her squawking was enough to make her teeth clench.

With a measured step she left the peace of her chambers and made her way to the lower floor.

She discovered a portion of her lingering alarm fading beneath the bright summer sunlight that tumbled through the wide windows. Mrs. Benson had even filled the rooms with freshly cut flowers that managed to mask the less pleasant aromas that drifted from the streets.

Entering the small breakfast room, she was surprised to discover that William had already eaten his meal and departed. As a rule he remained, awaiting her arrival, regardless of how late she might be.

Her brows pulled together in concern. Surely he had not left the house—not after her stern lectures.

Standing in the center of the room, Amelia more sensed than heard someone enter behind her and she swiftly turned to find her housekeeper bustling in with a tray to clear the table.

"Oh, Mrs. Benson, have you seen William?" she demanded, before she could stop the words.

Rather than responding with her usual fuss, Mrs. Benson merely smiled with a surprising satisfaction.

"Yes, he is in the front salon with his visitor."

Amelia blinked in surprise. "A visitor?"

"A Mr. St. Ives. William appeared right pleased to have him call. A nice change from moping about with his long face."

Sebastian.

Suddenly Amelia was aware of that familiar tingle that was racing through her blood. Of course. If not for her distraction, she would have already known that he was near. Perhaps a ridiculous fancy, but one she could not dismiss.

There were times when he rose to mind that she could almost believe that she could actually feel his thoughts and emotions.

Ridiculous, indeed.

"Thank you," she murmured, already moving toward the door. She needed to see Sebastian.

She wanted to ensure that her hasty words of yesterday had not made him utterly despise her.

"I'll be having a nice tea tray prepared in a few moments," Mrs. Benson called after her, in a considerably happier frame of mind than she had been in some days. Amelia could only presume the poor woman had wearied of merely having William and herself as dis-tractions. Any guest would be a blessing.

Resisting the urge to rush down the hall to the front parlor, Amelia instead kept a stately pace and man-aged to enter the room with every semblance of composure.

That did not mean her heart did not instinctively leap at the sight of his striking features and the bronzed hair that had been left unbound to fall against his shoulders. Or that a disturbing heat did not pool in the pit of her stomach as his silver gaze ran an appreciative gaze over her slender form. Only that she managed to hide her fierce reaction with at least a resemblance of equanimity.

The moment she stepped through the open door, Sebastian was swiftly at her side, a rather guarded expression on his face.

"Good morning, Amelia."

She smiled warmly, simply happy to have him near. "Mr. St. Ives."

"Please, I prefer Sebastian."

The behavior that her mother had drilled into her for years insisted that such intimacy was improper, but Amelia gave a mental shrug. She had abandoned propriety the moment she had left her parents' home. She would always consider herself a lady, but the binding strictures that had so consumed her life in society now seemed more than a little ridiculous.

"Very well, Sebastian."

His slow, heart-stopping smile was reward enough for her weakness, and Amelia made no protest as he reached out to gently grasp her hand in his own. The dangerous sensations tingling through her body were a worry for later.

"I brought a few guests with me. I hope you do not mind?"

"Guests?" She lifted her brow in surprise.

"Very important guests." Slowly shifting his body, he allowed Amelia to catch sight of William happily settled upon the window seat with six black kittens curled upon his lap. Her smile abruptly widened at the sight of William's unabashed pleasure.

"Oh, bless you. William has been quite anxious to know that the kittens are well. You have greatly eased his mind."

"I feared that he might be fretting," he admitted softly.

Her gaze returned to meet his watchful look. "It was kind of you to go to such an effort."

He wrinkled his nose at her sincere gratitude. "It was no effort. I simply scooped the box from the kitchen floor."

Amelia gave a choked laugh, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Never say that you have taken the kittens into your home?"

His own lips twitched with suppressed amusement. "Much over my housekeeper's protests, although I have noted she devotes considerably more effort to seeing to the comfort of those creatures than she does to my own. I am commanded to return them within the hour for their feeding."

"She sounds a lovely woman."

Sebastian gave a teasing frown. "Fah. She is a frightening old tartar who bullies me unmercifully."

Impressed far more at his kindness toward her brother than any lavish gift he might have brought for her, Amelia reached out to lightly touch his arm.

"I. . ." Her words of gratitude failed as her gaze moved over the oddly familiar features and abruptly caught sight of a half-healed cut upon his temple. There was also the unmistakable darkening of fading bruises upon his white skin. "You have been injured."

She felt him stiffen beneath her fingers before forcing a wry smile to his lips.

"It is nothing."

Her heart clenched fiercely. The thought of him being hurt brought her physical pain. As if she had taken the blows herself.

"What occurred?"

"A brief altercation in the lane."

"With whom?"

His lips twisted wryly. "I fear I did not take the time to note his identity."

Her fingers unconsciously tightened upon his arm. "Could it have been the murderer?"

"I think not," he retorted, his tones oddly clipped.

Her brows drew together. "How can you be certain?"

He breathed out a harsh sigh. "Can you not simply accept my word?"

Amelia began to bristle at his chiding words, only to realize that she was once again being unreasonable. The poor man was still healing from his wounds, and rather than offering him sympathy, she was bullying him with her suspicions.