She buried the knot of disappointment inside herself. Well, of course the encounter had been nothing special to Hadrian. He was no doubt accustomed to fondling women in the dark of night. And let that be a lesson to her. When it came to dukes, it served no purpose to dream.

He gave her a slight bow, his manner reserved. “Miss Fanshawe. I’m afraid you’ve interrupted a private meeting. You’d best come back later.”

Glancing past him, she had a partial view of the study. Lord Godwin sat behind a broad mahogany desk, while on the other side of it, a stranger occupied one of the two chairs. Papers littered the surface of the desk.

Natalie lifted her chin, glad that she was not a petite, well-bred English miss who would retreat in cowed defeat. “If this is about Leo, I daresay I’ve every reason to be here.”

As she stepped past Hadrian and entered the room, Lord Godwin’s steely blue stare bored into Natalie. He bristled with annoyance, and she again had the uncanny sense of having interrupted a quarrel. “Why are you here?” he demanded. “You should be upstairs in the nursery with the boy.”

“It’s because of Leo that I’m here, of course.”

“Actually, her arrival is quite timely,” Hadrian said, in a smooth reversal of his initial attempt to refuse her entry. “I was about to suggest that we send for her. After all, it’s imprudent for us to speculate any further when we could ask her to provide the necessary clarifications.”

“I’d be more than happy to answer any questions you might have,” Natalie concurred.

Godwin gazed with pursed lips at the duke before giving a curt nod. “Oh, very well, then,” he said testily.

Hadrian went to the desk and pulled out the chair beside the one occupied by the stranger. “Pray sit here, Miss Fanshawe.” All gentlemanly courtesy, he waited for Natalie. His grave expression made her revise her impression of hostility. Rather, he appeared disturbed about something else entirely, his tense manner seeming to indicate that trouble lay ahead.

She lowered herself into the chair and folded her hands in her lap. Hadrian must have occupied the seat before her arrival, for the leather cushion still held the warmth of his body. A faint whiff of spicy male soap made her keenly aware of his close presence. Perhaps she was foolish to feel comforted, but he was the only one present who might be considered an ally.

Hadrian performed the introductions. “Miss Fanshawe, may I present Mr. Musgrave, the earl’s solicitor. He’s been examining the legal papers that you provided.”

Musgrave had slickly combed brown hair and a dark suit of clothes. He was slightly bucktoothed and that and his plump form brought to mind an overfed beaver. A pair of gold-rimmed pince-nez rested on the bridge of his short nose, which accounted for the way he lifted his chin to gaze at her in a superior manner.

He cleared his throat and glanced at the earl, who, with a wave of his hand, gave permission for the solicitor to proceed. “Miss Fanshawe,” Musgrave began in an officious tone, “I am given to understand you are a citizen of the United States of America. Is that correct?”