"Seven guineas! How unfortunate that I missed them. I might have turned you in and spared myself this visitation in my room."

He appeared a little taken aback at that. "I'm sorry—I know it's awkward, but my mother's taken it into her head that I must leave Dove House."

"I see," Callie said coldly. "And therefore naturally you felt my bedroom was your obvious destination."

"It's ridiculous, of course. I won't leave her again, though, and I need a safe place. Hide in plain sight, you know. I didn't suppose you would…" He stopped, looking as if he couldn't quite discover the tail to his own sentence.

"You didn't suppose I would object? Why should I? A gentleman in my bedroom—how handy. Perhaps you'll discover the cause of this chimney smoking when the wind is in the south. Or you might inves tigate the way the f loorboard creaks under the ward robe. Do you plan to stay indefinitely? I must inform you that I'm engaged to be married, and must leave you to your own devices if you're to be ensconced here after Boxing Day."

"I know you're engaged," he said, his voice going harsh and icy. "How could I not? You're the talk of the town."

Callie grew stiff. She turned away. "That is unkind."

She felt him come to her and stand close behind her. "I'm sorry." He touched her hair and slid his fingers down to her throat gently. "I'm sorry, Callie. For everything."

"Quite," she said, trembling. But she did not move away as she should have. "Do you never simply ring the bell and hand in a card?"

He put his arms round her and turned her toward him. "Are you all right?" He drew a breath against her hair and then passed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. "God forgive me, I've done nothing but worry about you after what happened."

She clenched her hands together, pushing away. "If you mean, was there any unfortunate result, no," she said, turning her back to him. "I can confirm that. So you need not concern yourself about it further."

She wanted desperately to turn back and cry out her anger and bewilderment, that he was married, that he had let her fall in love with him all over again and never told her. But then she would have betrayed herself wholly. Between him and Major Sturgeon, what silly vestige of pride she had left had been lacer ated enough. The one thing she would never admit was that she hadn't known all along. While she stood frozen, aching with the loss of his touch, she heard him move away.