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“Miss Littleton, you are a sharp young woman, and I would expect you to notice when something feels... off. Don’t you find it curious how our quiet village is suddenly filled with so many unfamiliar faces?

You wouldn’t believe the number of strangers passing through lately,” Mr. Barron said, his voice tight.

“Letters, messages... they all come through my inn since it serves for the post. You’d be surprised what kind of news ends up in my hands.

Ever since the Times article about your excavation, men are talking. ”

My thoughts turned to the stranger we had seen in the field. I had never seen him before, and Rafe had verified that there was an intruder as well. Even Mr. Perry believed someone had lurked around his cottage.

Was it simply a strange coincidence of timing with Mr. Beaumont, Lord Ainsley, and Mr. Harrington? I doubted Mr. Harrington’s involvement. He had been nothing but a gentleman.

“I invited Mr. Harrington and the Dilettanti,” I admitted uneasily. “Each man brings a wealth of knowledge regarding antiquities and can offer the means for museums to pursue further study of my findings.”

“Miss Littleton, many have offered to help the Perry family, myself included, but I find it strange that Lord Hawthorn is the one who spotted the thief, and yet the thief still got away. Doesn’t that seem a little too convenient?

Especially for a man with a vested interest in the land? ” Mr. Barron demanded.

Rafe had rushed into my drawing room, disheveled and worried. Could someone possibly manufacture such deep understanding of my love for history and compassion regarding my brother’s plight?

Mr. Barron nodded at my silence, his tight fingers finally slipping from my arm.

“Please reconsider turning down my services, Miss Littleton. I know men, through and through. I would have protected your excavation. You’ll need it.

Thanks to the article in The Times , how can either you or the Perry family sleep at night? ”

“That is quite enough, Mr. Barron. I thank you for your kindness, but I do not require your protection.”

I was aware of a presence behind me at the same moment Mr. Barron’s eyes rounded.

“The blazes, you don’t,” he muttered fiercely.

“Miss Littleton, forgive my intrusion, but I believe I have a dance with you.”

Rafe loomed over me. He held out a hand in invitation, so unlike Mr. Barron, and waited. The music had stopped, and new dancers were taking to the floor. Several pairs of eyes pivoted in our direction. Perhaps my voice had been louder than I intended.

Rafe continued waiting. I placed my hand in his, the touch searing through my glove.

Mr. Barron brushed past us, melting into the crowd, his navy coat adorned with gilded buttons and an elaborately tied cravat—every inch of him a picture of fashion.

I inhaled a deep breath when I could no longer see his well-dressed figure.

His words, however, played with my emotions as Lord Hawthorn led me to the dance floor.

Had I misread the viscount’s intentions regarding his offer to have his men watch over the Perry farm?

Rafe had promised to send men to guard the mosaics. But where were they when Bacchus was stolen? Had they been outsmarted or simply careless? The theft weighed heavily on me, and I wondered if Lord Hawthorn had been too trusting of the men he hired—or if something more sinister was at play.

“You look... bewitching in that green gown, Miss Littleton.” Rafe’s gaze lingered on me, his hand resting at the small of my back, the pressure steady yet gentle. His thumb brushed just slightly against the fabric, almost as if he meant to memorize the texture.

“I do like green,” I murmured, my heart racing faster under his touch.

“A woodland sprite could wear no other color,” Rafe said with a faint smile.

I wanted to smile, but after Mr. Barron’s accusations, my heart only pounded harder.

He frowned. “I hope you’ll forgive my intrusion into your conversation. I saw Barron...” His gaze dropped to my left arm, to the skin right below the lace trim. His fingers skimmed the red mark ever so lightly. “Did he hurt you?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and I had the distinct impression that he would unleash his anger, and it would be a fearsome sight to behold.

“No, he did not,” I reassured him. My pulse skittered as he led me to the front of the dance line, as a peer would do. “Although his idea of polite conversation differs from mine.”

Already, far too many women whispered behind gloved hands, drawing the attention of their partners.

“Then I assure you he will never attempt such offense again,” Rafe promised evenly.

I arched an eyebrow. “He offered again to guard the dig. And he warned me about you.”

“Me?”

At the center of the room, I took my place with him by my side as the other couples found their spots for the dance. He leaned close. “What do you mean?”

Mr. Beaumont had escorted a pretty young girl in a white gown to the center of the dance floor.

Lord Ainsley had a partner too. The quadrille began, and the pairs moved with practiced elegance, their steps synchronized to the enchanting melody.

With the dancers swirling and looping, conversation proved futile.

I felt Rafe’s attention as we came together, broke apart, and came together, looping over and over, fingers brushing with the dance, yet I couldn’t bring myself to look in his eyes. Mr. Beaumont, when his shoulder grazed mine, smiled.

“Capital idea bringing us, Lord Hawthorn. You’ve convinced me that your country balls are delightful with such sumptuous fare to sample.”

I felt ill at the barely veiled innuendo, my stomach roiling.

As soon as the music ended, I murmured a thank-you before I searched for the exit.

I would not leave Abigail, but I needed fresh air.

Since she kept close company to a young gentleman, her conversation animated while he handed her a punch glass, I was free to escape into a quieter room.

I ducked out into the main hall. Footsteps echoed, uneven but quick, following me. I whirled around to see Rafe.

“Bridget, please—wait.” He reached me as I halted in front of a console table pushed against the wall. Above, a portrait of the Hawkinses’ family peered down at us with unblinking eyes. “I don’t know what Mr. Barron said to you, but I do not trust that man.”

“He hinted that you may have something to do with the theft of the mosaic.”

“Surely you don’t believe such lies.” Rafe sounded vulnerable. “I know my family has a wretched history, but I am not like my father, nor my uncle.”

“No, I do not believe him.”

Rafe’s shoulders heaved with a breath.

“Unfortunately, that does not explain the rumor that you’ve decided to sell Hawthorn Abbey to the Dilettanti. Is this true? And if the mosaics on Perry’s farm lie within your property, Mr. Beaumont will have access to it all.”

Frowning, he didn’t answer, instead leaving me to guess as to the thoughts running through his mind. But silence was an answer.

“I see,” I whispered, my throat clogging with emotion. How could I have thought to trust him? Tears filled my eyes, awful, burning traitorous tears that threatened to spill down my cheeks and stain my gown with watermarks. Angrily, I dashed them away, since emotions had no place in public.

“I may have no choice but to rent my land. I don’t need to tell you I have stretched myself to the limit to rebuild the Hawthorn estate, especially after the hailstorm,” he began.

“I have no intention of hurting you, but I cannot abandon the tenants relying on me, and I fear I am out of options, considering my last visit with Mr. Talbot.”

I felt torn, my heart aching for him, yet the desperation to preserve the mosaic gnawed at me.

I understood his burden, but the thought of losing this opportunity felt unbearable.

“No need to explain, Lord Hawthorn. I understand. Believe me. I understand your need for capital, but must it be with them?”

Truthfully, I didn’t want him to sell or rent at all. He would likely leave, and I would never see him again.

A pained look crossed his face. “Lord Hawthorn? Are we back to that again? You will not call me Rafe?”

“I believe so.” My voice broke. “I thought we were friends. Allies. Now I see that I’ve been discarded for a better plan.”

His mouth parted at my challenge.

I nodded toward the ballroom where the music soared before inching away to make my escape. “I believe those friends are waiting for you now.”