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Giving up on being able to spot the crest from her lofty position in the castle, Emma quickly started for the stone steps that circled the tower. She lifted her skirts just a bit and descended the turret as fast as she could. Once she reached the East Wing, she scampered down the corridor without even waiting to catch her breath. A little red in her cheeks would look nice, after all. Besides, she didn’t really have time to pinch them.

“Emma!” Grandpapa’s raspy voice halted her in an instant.

She whirled around to find her grandfather, the intimidating Duke of Danby, standing just inside the corridor next to his personal chambers. “Oh! Good afternoon, Grandpapa.” She dropped a quick curtsey.

He scowled in response. “Itmightbe a good afternoon if my granddaughter strolled like a lady instead of sprinting through the castle as though she was some sort of lowborn gutter trash. What is the matter with you, young lady?”

Blast! Emma really could have done without catching her grandfather’s interest. Usually she could go a fortnight or even longer without crossing his path, but now—with a mysterious coach very close to reaching the castle’s entrance—was not the time for this sort of conversation. “I am sorry, Grandpapa. I was just in a hurry to meet Izzy so we could practice our singing,” she lied.

The duke lifted one imperious grey brow. “And you cannot do so without running through the corridor as though the devil himself was chasing you?”

Emma smiled what she hoped was her most accommodating smile. “I promise to walk like a lady. Would you care to join us in the music room while we practice?” she asked, knowing his answer before the question left her lips. Grandpapa had never deigned to spend time with either her or Isabel when they practiced, most likely because her sister was simply atrocious at such things. But whatever the reason, odds were he wouldn’t take her up on her offer now or ever.

“No.” He shook his head. “I have important matters to attend to.”

“Next time then.”

He harrumphed. “Don’t let me catch you running through the hallways again, Emma Whitton.”

“No more running,” she vowed, crossing her fingers behind her back.

“See that you don’t.”

Without another word, Emma spun on her heel and, with practiced poise, she drifted down the hallway like the most regal duchess would, or at least the way she imagined her grandfather wanted her to. Then as soon as she turned the corner and was out of his sight, she lifted her skirts and dashed once again towards the main stairway. After all, what was the point of walking like a lady if no one was around to see her?

She raced towards the main entrance and skidded to a halt when Milne, the old butler, hauled open the front door. She could barely contain her glee.He’darrived. He’d actually received her letter and come all the way from London for her… Well, for Drew, but it wasn’t worth splitting hairs over.

Lord Heathfield, looking just as handsome as she remembered with golden hair that appeared tousled from the wind, stood only a few feet away. His eyes met hers, and Emma’s heart nearly fluttered from her chest. “You came,” she whispered.

* * *

“I beg your pardon?” Heath frowned at the pretty auburn-haired chit before him. She looked slightly familiar, but he couldn’t place her.

“I believe,” Damien said from behind him, “she said ‘you came’.”

“I meant to say,” she began as a deep blush stained her cheeks, “that Drew will be so relieved you’ve come.”

She called Drew by his given name? Heath eyed the girl closer. Who was she to his friend? And why did the fact that she called Drew by his Christian name make Heath want to scowl?

The butler cleared his throat. “May I help you, sir?”

The pretty girl hastened forward. “Milne, this is Lord Heathfield. He’s an old friend of Drew’s. Don’t you remember?”

“And I’m Damien Lockwell,” Damien chimed in over Heath’s shoulder. “Might we be allowed entrance to the castle? We’ve traveled quite some distance.”

“Of course, of course.” The auburn-haired girl took several steps backward. “Where are my manners? Do come in.” Then she looked again at the butler. “Please have Lord Heathfield’s and Mr. Lockwell’s bags brought in, Milne.”

Heath and Damien took the opportunity to step over the threshold just as the butler narrowed his eyes on the girl. “Have them brought where, my lady?”

She shrugged. “How about the blue chambers in the family quarters and the…” She glanced at Damien. “I’m afraid I didn’t know Drew had invitedyou, Mr. Lockwell.” The chit turned her attention back to the butler. “How about the white chambers? It’s not terribly masculine, but…”

“But you didn’t know Drew had invited me,” Damien added smoothly. “It’s quite all right, my dear, I’m certain I can withstand frilly bedchambers for a fortnight.”

The butler murmured something under his breath that sounded like ‘featherbrained ninny’ but Heath couldn’t be certain. Nor could he tell if the butler meant to insult Damien, himself, or the mysterious girl by his mutterings.

Damn it all to hell. Who was she? She looked so bloody familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “It has been such a long journey, and I am tired. Please remind me, where have we met before?” Heath asked. Clearly, they had met. She knew him by sight. Knew his name.

Her hazel eyes rounded in surprise, and for a moment he thought she meant to cry. But then she smiled softly at him and said, “Has it truly been so long, my lord, that you’ve forgotten me?”