Maggie sighed. She had no idea what Philip was talking about, but suddenly her appetite was gone and she felt extraordinarily tired. “If you’ll excuse me, Samuel,” she said, rising from her chair.

Samuel rose, too, making no protest, though his gaze swung toward Philip again, dangerous as a lance. “We’ll discuss this, Briggs,” he warned.

Philip nodded dolefully. “So, unfortunately, will the whole city of Sydney,” he said as Maggie placed her hand on his arm. “Good night, Mr. Fairmont.”

Samuel made a disdainful sound and sat down to finish his roast duck and his wine.

Outside in the street Philip fairly dragged Maggie toward a waiting carriage. “Do you want to find yourself scrubbing floors or wiping a lot of snotty noses in some nursery?” he demanded without preamble.

Maggie stood stubbornly still on the wooden sidewalk, furious. “Exactly what are you saying?” she cried.

“I’m talking, you little idiot, about your reputation. And about your—your status with Reeve McKenna. If he comes back and hears that you’ve been seen in public in the company of another man, he’ll be livid!”

Maggie’s mouth dropped open. “That’s what this is about?”

Philip gestured for the carriage driver to stay in the box, and opened the door for Maggie himself. “Yes,” he answered on a sigh.

Maggie refused to be stuffed into the carriage and dispensed with quite so easily. “Of all the unmitigated gall—Samuel is my friend!”

“Samuel is a womanizer,” Philip argued flatly. “He will take advantage of you and of your position in Reeve McKenna’s household if he can.”

“You’re a fine one to be pointing a finger, Philip Briggs. If you hadn’t taken advantage of me, I wouldn’t even be here!”

With surprising strength Philip took Maggie by the waist and forcibly lifted her into the carriage. “No,” he said through the window, “you would probably be dying of consumption in some back-alley room in the West End. Go home, Maggie, and don’t make the same mistake again—I’m warning you. Mr. McKenna will not tolerate philandering.”

“Philandering?!” Maggie cried, outraged, but the carriage was moving by then and there was no way to carry on the argument, save shrieking insults after Philip like a fishwife.

The great house near the bay was lonely that night, with Reeve gone away, and Maggie could not bear the prospect of traipsing off to his room to sleep in his bed like a good little mistress. She would go there only to fetch the things the maid had carried in that morning.

There was a tiny package, gaily wrapped in silver paper and tied with a red bow, resting in the middle of the neatly made bed. Maggie was sure it hadn’t been there before, and she approached it warily.