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“B odyguard? Really, Jon?” Macie stared at her brother, fury replacing her confusion as she realized his absurd proposal was not a pitifully unfunny attempt at humor. When he’d requested that she join him in his study, she had expected him to quiz her about her plans for the upcoming gala. Given his decidedly perturbed state upon seeing the gown she’d worn to Lady Drayton’s soiree, she would not have been surprised if he’d wanted to see what she had in mind for the next event. But this—this was beyond the pale.

Her gaze roamed over the man who stood by his side. Finn Caldwell met her eyes, his expression unreadable. Drat the luck. After the night before, she’d rather hoped that another ten years or so would pass before she had to look into those amber-brown eyes again. The notion that Finn, of all the men in London—on the planet, for that matter—would act as her protector was utter madness.

Jon leaned against his desk and stretched out his long legs. “He is our best choice.”

“Best choice?” She could scarcely believe her own ears. Her gaze darted between her brother and Finn. “Have you both gone daft?”

“Daft?” Her brother gave his head a rueful shake. “All those years of tutelage by the most refined governesses. Father’s money was indeed well spent.”

“I assure you, these are my censored thoughts. Even the most refined of my governesses could not have exercised greater restraint in this circumstance.” She pulled in a low breath, as if that might calm her. “You would not like to hear my true opinion of the suggestion that Finn should squire me about town. Why, the very idea is beyond outlandish.”

Jon regarded her with a look of practiced calm. Years of dealing with their father had taught him to mask emotion. Cool and unflappable, no matter what he faced.

Or in this case, what he expected Macie to face.

“It is not a suggestion. It is the plan,” he said with a tone of finality.

“ Your plan. Not mine.” She hiked her chin defiantly. “I will have no part of it.”

“Be reasonable, Macie.” Jon’s tone had softened, if only just a bit.

She shifted her attention to Finn. The scoundrel with a newfound moral compass—the rake who wouldn’t even consider compromising her, not so much as to stir a biddy or two to gossip—was to serve as her escort about town in Jon’s absence. The very notion was absurd.

“As for you, Mr. Caldwell, what leverage does he have over you? Whatever could have inspired you to go along with this nonsensical scheme?”

Finn folded his arms over his chest like a shield. A wry grin played on his full mouth. Damn the man and his tempting smile.

His amber eyes gleamed. “You doubt my penchant for chivalry?”

She shot him a scowl. “I’d sooner believe you’ve a wish to tame some wild beast in the circus.”

“A lioness, perhaps.” His wry tone left no doubt to his meaning. Good thing for him, she didn’t have her parasol at the ready. She might well have given him a taste of it, right in the breadbasket.

For his part, Jon frowned. A developing-a-whopper-of-a-headache type of frown. Good enough. Her brother deserved a touch of misery, given what he proposed to inflict upon her.

“If you claimed to be jesting, I would believe you,” she said to her brother. “We’d have a chuckle over it, and then we could put the matter to rest.”

“I am entirely serious, Macie. I must leave for Scotland. But you do have a choice.”

“Good.” She studied him, her flicker of optimism doused as she took in his gloomy expression. “Why didn’t you mention that earlier?”

“Because you’re not going to like the other option.” Jon was more blunt than usual. “It’s quite simple, really. You can tote your camera about London, accept a sufficient number of invitations from Lady Drayton and her ilk to humor Father, and accept that Finn will watch over you. For your safety as well as Nell’s, I might add. Or you both shall pack your things and board a train for Bristol before I depart.”

“Simple? How easy for you to say!” Macie fought to keep her tone measured and controlled. “You endure no such constraints. No asinine requirement to tolerate a nanny.” She shot Finn a glare. “A nanny who could use a good shave, no less.”

It was Finn’s turn to send a scowl her way. “I cannot imagine yer parents ever managed to keep a nanny on staff. Even when ye were a wee lass, I’d wager ye ran about, getting yerself into every fix ye could conjure up.”

“I was a studious child,” she countered. “I spent many an hour with my face in a book.”

Finn’s eyes flashed. “And just as many driving yer governesses to drink.”

“In that case, I hope you possess an ample supply of liquor to see you through the next fortnight.”

“My account at the Rogue’s Lair is in good standing. I expect that will suffice.”

Oh, what a frustrating man!

“I do not appreciate having my wings clipped.” She punctuated her words with another glare. “Nor do I intend to be put up for inspection, night after night, an heiress up for bidding.”

“Believe me, I have no intention of clipping yer blasted wings,” Finn said, heat penetrating his tone. “Personally, I could not give a rat’s arse about the balls ye attend or whether ye’re spotted at the right party. As for yer photographic endeavors, I have no reason to stand in yer way. I will escort ye about the city as needed, standing at the ready should ye require my assistance.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “I do not foresee a need for any assistance you might render.”

“I had not taken ye for a naive lass. Surely ye can envision Lord Roaming Hands seeking to take advantage while Jon is not around. If ye need protection, I will be there.”

“I have my own methods to deter Lord Roaming Hands, or any other stoat-faced bloke who grows too bold. I am quite adept at using my own weapons.”

“Weapons, my dear Miss Mason?” Finn regarded her with a lazy half-smile. “And what might those be?”

“A well-placed knee works wonders,” she replied, as Jon nodded his agreement. So, he recalled the rather infamous incident with the Earl of Addlepate, or whatever the sot’s blasted name was.

“She’s right,” Jon said, adding a small wince for emphasis. “You taught the man a lesson he won’t soon forget.”

“A fan snapped against the knuckles sends a powerful message. As does a parasol to the midsection or across the bridge of the nose,” Macie went on, proud of her repurposing of classic instruments of feminine wiles.

His expression glum, Jon raked a hand through his hair. “Again, she’s right.”

“And it goes without saying that a lady will be forgiven for not-so-accidentally tipping her sherry onto a persistent suitor if he becomes overly vexing.”

Finn’s gaze met hers. “So, ye’ve got it all figured out, do ye?”

“I believe I do.”

His expression shifted to something less inviting. Nearly grim. “Ye’re prepared for civilized men in environments which rein them in. But there are men out there, Macie—and women—who view others as prey. Are ye prepared for that?”

“Well,” she said, gathering her thoughts. “I do not associate with those sorts.”

“Yes, ye do.” Finn’s tone had gone hard, raw at the edges. “The predators are there, hiding in plain sight. Yer bony knee and trusty fan will not deter them from taking what they want.”

She met his eyes, hoping to spot a trace of humor. But there was none to be found. “It isn’t like you to be so dramatic.”

Slowly, he shook his head. “Ye’ve never been on your own, Macie. Never been in the city without yer brother or someone else who might shield ye from its ugly underbelly.”

“It’s not as if I intend to roam the likes of Whitechapel,” she scoffed.

“Come now, Macie. Surely ye realize a gentleman garbed in finery may pose a greater threat than a cutpurse roaming the rookeries. Not even yer parasol will protect ye if a predator sees ye are without an adequate defense.”

“And that’s where you come in?”

“I blend in with the dandies in the ballroom. But I’m not one of them.” Finn’s gaze hardened. “They know it. They won’t try anything with me around.”

“My, my, Mr. Caldwell. I’d no idea you had such a dangerous side. Is there something shocking in your past?”

He chuckled, an unhappy sound. “More than ye would want to know.”

Something about Finn’s expression intrigued her, even as a knot twisted deep within her. Dash it all . She did not want to admit it. But he was right. Even with Nell by her side, she was vulnerable. Especially if an unscrupulous man saw a ruthless path to her dowry.

Staring down at the intricate pattern on the Aubusson carpet, she mulled her options. The very thought of returning home so soon landed in her belly like a lead weight. She had only begun to capture the images for her exhibition. She certainly wasn’t about to stop now. Besides, if they were forced to make a premature departure, Nell would be devastated. Her friend had so eagerly looked forward to this time. But remaining in London alone was not entirely practical, especially if Macie planned to be out and about, capturing the history and beauty of the city with her lens.

Dash it all. The rogue-turned-saint was her best hope. She had wanted to enlist him in tarnishing her blasted good name. But now, Finn was to be her protector.

How bloody ironic.

She’d simply have to make the best of it. Finn’s presence might actually prove useful. She supposed she could endure a bodyguard. Especially one who could give Adonis a run for his money. She could go along with Jon’s scheme.

But on her terms.

“As much as it pains me to say it, I agree with you.”

As her brother appeared ready to sigh with relief, a look of surprise washed over Finn. “I can’t recall ever hearing those words from yer lips,” Finn said.

“I suspect you may never again.” She glanced down at her hands as her teeth grazed her lower lip. “The situation calls for a semblance of protection. The defense you will provide is better than none.”

“A whole-hearted endorsement if ever I’ve heard one,” Finn said dryly.

“Trust me, I would not even describe it as half-hearted.” She lifted her gaze, meeting his eyes. “As you well know, I’m in a bit of a fix. If you wish to play the chivalrous knight, then so be it.”

“Good,” Jon said. “Now that we’ve settled Finn’s role—”

“His role is not settled,” she said, steeling her voice. “I have some conditions.”

“Oh, good God,” Jon mumbled, plowing his hand through his hair yet again. At this rate, gray hair would be the least of his worries, as he was in danger of raking himself bald.

“I am not a girl fresh out of the schoolroom. This is not my first London expedition, and until I find myself wearing a wedding ring and a shiny new title, Papa’s mandated husband hunt will continue. At least for another year or so, when he declares it—and me—a lost cause. So, it is to my advantage to buy time by keeping potential suitors at bay.”

“You’re scheming again, Macie.” Jon began to pace. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“Call it whatever you will, dear brother. But I sense an opportunity. And I have you to thank for it.” Inspiration percolated in Macie’s brain. “You’ve no need to concern yourself. I give you my word that I will not embarrass Papa or further tarnish the family’s questionably good name. What I have in mind is between me,” she said, her gaze shifting to Finn, “and my gallant protector.”