Turning to face him, she saw his eyes narrow warily at her. A mask seemed to drop over his face, as if he expected the worst, and she remembered suddenly all the times she had raged at him, screamed at him like a virago, half-wild with rage and anguish.

Inhaling deeply, she calmed herself with the reminder that he was here with her because he chose to be, and that she was with him for the same reason. They had their lives ahead of them, once they got past the lingering resentments and old ghosts.

“It’s too easy to suspect the worst, I suppose,” she began, but a discreet knock at the door interrupted her. It was Berthilde with her dressing gown, eyes sleepy in the dim light of the hallway lamp as she held out the yellow silk.

“It was being cleaned, madame. Shall I assist you?”

“No, Berthilde, go to bed. I won’t need you tonight.”

The door closed softly behind the girl and silence fell as she turned to look at Steve, saw his fleeting frown disappear to be replaced by a carefully blank expression.

Altering her earlier decision to be direct, she said instead, “You promised to help me with my gown, I believe.”

As he came to her she turned, and his fingers brushed against the vulnerable nape of her neck as he tugged at the top button. Cool air whisked over her skin, made her shiver. She caught a glimpse of their reflection in the mirror across the room, his dark head bent, a vivid contrast to her bright hair as he worked the buttons of her lovely gown.

Oh, the memories, of the many times he had undressed her, of the times they had fought one another and loved one another. And now here they were, pretending a courtesy neither felt, while unanswered questions formed a barrier between them.

It was time for answers.

“Signorina di Paoli did not look very happy when we left tonight,” she observed, and saw his reflected shrug. “I think she was most unhappy when you did not escort her in to supper.”

“She seemed happy enough with Lindhaven. They’re old friends.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to point out that once he had been close friends with her, as well, but she said instead, “How long do you intend to stay in London, Steve? I mean, this ambassador position, it’s not really what you like to do, is it?”

His soft laugh stirred the hair over her ear as he leaned forward, flicking open the last button. “Are you worried about my happiness, Ginny-love?”

She pulled away, tugged at the bodice of her gown to peel it away and stepped out of the glittering material that slid to a puddle around her ankles. Clad in only white silk undergarments, she draped the gown on a padded hanger, kept her hands busy to avoid looking at him.