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“It’s easy enough, once you know what you are doing.”

He carefully put down the sextant exactly in the place it he had found it. Then, he turned to face Beatrice, his arms folded.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out before he could say a word. “I know I was not meant to come up here. But you hide so much from me. So many secrets. I thought perhaps I could discover a little more about you if I came up. I never intended for you to find out that I’d been here.”

He let out a short laugh. “Is that meant to reassure me? Don’t worry, Beatrice. I would have known that somebody had been up here the instant I set foot in the place.”

“Why? Have I disturbed the dust?”

Stephen shot her an amused grin. “You have, actually. I can track your footsteps all over the floor. I can see where you have moved things, and I believe that those are traces ofyourfingerprints on the telescope lens over there. I shall have to spend quite a while polishing it, later.”

He didn’t seem angry. More amused, if anything else. Beatrice bit her lip, staring up at him. Thewantingsimmered in her gut again, and it was frankly useless trying to make it go away.

She folded her arms behind her back, leaning against the table that held the sextant. “I am sorry.”

He shrugged. “What have you learned, then, about me?”

“Not much. You’re rather interested incelestial navigation, at least.”

“Ha! It’s a useful skill, to be sure, but one that every sailor and traveler already has.”

“Noteverytraveler, I’m sure.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you trying to score a point in the conversation, my dear Duchess, after violating my privacy so entirely? If you remember, staying out of this room was arule.”

Beatrice was conscious of a flash of guilt.

“I know. You’re right, I shouldn’t have done it. I’ll leave.”

She made to step past him, but Stephen’s hand shot out, his fingers curling around her shoulder. Perhaps it was an accident, but his fingertips grazed the smooth skin at the base of her neck,sending shivers of excitement down her spine. Beatrice stopped dead and felt as though her breathing stopped, too.

“Not so fast,” he said smoothly. “You broke a rule, dearest. I’m sure you know what that means.”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me,” she retorted, hating how breathless she felt. At least her voice was steady.

“It means…” He paused, sighing theatrically. “It means that you must be punished.”

There was a brief silence. The tingling in Beatrice’s gut tightened and pulsed. She had to wet her lips before she spoke.

“Punished?” she repeated, trying to sound unimpressed. “Do you intend to have me write lines on a chalkboard? Send me to bed without supper? Inform my mother?”

He released her shoulder, and she found that she missed the weight and warmth of his hand.

“Not quite,” he responded. “Let me think. A fitting punishment… hm. You shall help Mouse with his daily rounds of the conservatory, how about that? Help him water and care for the plants.”

Something deflated inside Beatrice. She was conscious ofdisappointment. It must have flickered across her face, andStephen would undoubtedly have seen it. His eyes narrowed in the instant before she turned away.

“Mouse is a tyrant when it comes to those plants,” Beatrice heard herself say. “We are no longer duchess and butler when those plants are at stake, but master and slave. AndIam the slave. I’d rather not be.”

“I see. Well, let me make another suggestion.” Stephen’s voice dropped to a rasping purr, and he slid closer still. Before Beatrice knew what was going on, his cool fingers were curled underneath her chin, tilting her face up so that she was obliged to look at him. “How about something a little more old-fashioned?”

Beatrice swallowed, unable to look away. Not because of Stephen’s grip on her chin, but because she was simplyrootedto the spot.

“Oh?” she managed.

He grinned, his eyes sharp and vulpine. “I shall spank you.”

Whatever Beatrice had been expecting, it was not that. She flinched, and he released her chin.