“Lord Carlisle.” Gillian bobbed a curtsy and tried to ignore Piddle, who was being noisily sick on the pavement next to her. “How delightful to see you again. Have you made the acquaintance of my cousin, Lady Charlotte Collins?”

“Lord Carlisle.” Charlotte curtsied. “You must forgive my appearance. I seldom go out in public, my Mama being protective of my delicate sensibilities and naturally shy nature, but my dearest cousin begged me in such a manner that I was unable to refuse her request.”

“You will notice how modest and retiring she is,” Gillian said helpfully, unable to resist laughing at her cousin’s expression of innocence and shy maidenhood. Charlotte had told her that particular combination of expressions had garnered her three proposals of marriage.

“Er…of course. Most modest and retiring. Perhaps we might continue this fascinating discussion inside? Is your…uh…dog finished there? Yes? Perhaps Crotch would take them around back to the stables.”

“I beg your pardon?” Gillian didn’t think she had heard the earl correctly.

“Crotch,” he said, flapping his hands at the dogs, who had ambled over to him to conduct a quick gender check on this new person.

Charlotte let out an innocent, maidenly sort of gasp and fanned herself in a manner most becoming to a modest, retiring person.

A blush burned up Gillian’s face. God’s spleen, would she never be able to go anywhere with her dogs? “Oh, yes, of course, crotch. Lord Carlisle, I’m so embarrassed. They always do that. Piddle! Erp! Naughty dogs! I hope they didn’t…er…hurt you in their investigations. They like to smell people, you see, and try as I might I’m not able to break them of the habit of sniffing…er…of sniffing.”

The earl narrowed his eyes at her.

“What the devil are you talking about?”

Charlotte clutched her arm and hissed a warning not to pursue the conversation. Gillian ignored it. “Your crotch, of course.”

“My what?” The earl’s voice rose as Erp decided to investigate again. “Down, sir! Down!”

“Erp! Bad dog! Nick, darling, grab Erp and keep him from doing that. I do apologize again, Lord Carlisle,” Gillian said, holding on to Piddle’s collar. “But as we’ve settled the question of your crotch, might we go inside?”

The earl stared for a moment, then closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them up again, she was still standing there, still smiling that charming, lovely, completely misleading smile. He began to feel sorry for the wife-killer Weston. He had a suspicion that this time the Black Earl had met his match.

***

The Black Earl was beginning to believe the very same thing. He emerged from his consultation with John Stafford, the chief clerk for the Bow Street Runners, and was assured of help gathering proof that the bastard McGregor was behind the threats to himself and Gillian, and the attack of a few evenings past.

“Are you sure it’s Lord Carlisle who is behind these letters?” Stafford asked.

“As sure as I can be without having his admission of the fact,” Noble replied. “The man is a heartless devil who preys on women. He is responsible for the death of my late wife, and holds great animosity for me.”