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“Miss Keyn-sham!” His voice was louder. “Will you not stay a moment? I only wish to speak with you.”

She very much doubted that. She had no choice but to hurry onward and try the nearest door. It was unlocked. She opened it and slipped inside, wincing as she closed it behind her as silently as she could.

She was in a library. No candles were lit, but by the light of a low fire she could make out the gleam of book spines on the shelves that lined the walls. She glanced around, wondering where she could hide, in case Townley followed her in here.

Instantly, her imagination conjured a scene of him lighting candles to search the room for her. Her heart began to pound. She told herself that she was being ridiculous. She was thinking like an author of sensational novels, rather than a properly brought-up young lady. Gentlemen didn’t behave that way in real life. Even a man like Mr. Townley must have limits.

But… what if he didn’t?

There was a large settee near the windows, where a reader would have good light during the day. It was too dark to see more than the outline of its long back, but she slipped past it and crouched down, putting her hand on its seat for balance.

Only it didn’t land on the seat. It landed on a... person. A person’s warm, muscular... limb, encased in fabric.

A man’s voice spoke from just inches away. “What the devil?”

Pomona gasped, lost her balance, fell backward, and landed hard on her fundament, almost knocking the wind out of her.

“Who is there?” The darkness rearranged itself as he sat up. She heard an intake of breath. “Why, as I live and breathe. Pomona Keynsham. What are you doing, creeping about Lady Beaufort’s library in the dark and squeezing my thigh?”

No. It couldn’t be. It could not be Gabriel West. But there was no time to even think about that. “Shh! I was not squeezing your thigh. And... and thigh is not even a polite word.”

“Since when do you care about polite words?” He snorted. “That was the first restful sleep I have had in at least a fortnight. I ought to have known that it could not last. And by the way, you still have not told me what you are doing here.”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” She was so hurt and outraged that for a moment she forgot to be quiet. “I live in London. And I am hiding—as if it were not perfectly obvious!”

“Really? I am no expert, of course, but let me advise you, Miss Keynsham, that if you are meeting a gentleman, he will need to be able to see you.”

“How dare you!”

Just then came the worst possible sound: The soft click of the handle of the library door. “Shh! Get down!”

Unexpectedly, West slid off the settee and sat next to her on the carpet. “Miss Keynsham, I really must”—

She clapped her hand over his mouth—although in the darkness, she miscalculated, and her palm hit his face too forcefully.

“Ow.”

“Miss Keynsham!” The door creaked open. “Where are you, Miss Keynsham?” Mr. Townley’s voice was still that menacing sing-song.

She felt West stiffen in annoyance and wished that she could explain the truth of the situation.

“Miss Keynsham, such false coyness does not become you.” Mr. Townley was coming closer. “You need not hide from me.”

West seized her wrist and, after a silent struggle, pried her hand off his mouth. She jammed her elbow into his ribs.

“Miss Keynsham?” There was a momentary silence, as though Mr. Townley had heard something, and was listening as hard as he could. When he spoke again he sounded annoyed. “Miss Keynsham, let me be frank. I have been told the story of your elopement. I know that you are not as pure as you pretend to be. Now, unless you want me to”— There was a thump and a curse. He must have walked into a piece of furniture.

West tried to jerk out of her grasp, trying to jump to his feet. She hung onto his elbow to stop him.

After a few more muffled thuds, Townley’s footsteps returned to the middle of the library. He was muttering under his breath. Suddenly there was light. He must have lit a candle from the embers of the fire. Shadows skittered about the room as he held it high, turning as he looked for her. She ducked lower and risked a sideways glance at West. The fugitive light of the candle showed a clenched jaw—and shadows beneath his eyes.

“Miss Keynsham.” Townley sounded out of breath and out of temper. “Miss Keynsham, your childish game has gone on long enough. I know that you are in this room. If you do not come out I shall tell everyone what I know, and⁠—.”

There was a thump and another curse. He must have blundered into something again, despite waving the candle about. “Miss Keynsham!” His breathing was loud. “I shall be frank! If the truth were known, you would be ruined. And despite your”— There was a heavy thud. The light went out.

West wrenched his elbow free of her hands and leapt to his feet. “I do not know who you are, sir.” His tone was conversational. “But I do know that it will be my very great pleasure to knock you down.”

Suddenly the room began to brighten. And brighten some more. And then a large flame leapt toward the ceiling. “Fire!” she screamed.