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“Those are not my personal property, they are family jewels,” Meredith said softly. She met Trevor’s eyes. “If I have damaged the piece, I want to fix it. ’Tis my responsibility.”

The marquess knelt in front of her. He stretched out a hand and lifted a fallen lock of hair back from her face.

She could see he was struggling to stay calm.

“Since it appears to be so damned important to you, I will make certain the jeweler examines the necklace. If it needs to be repaired, I will instruct him to do so immediately.”

“Will you send me the bill?”

“Meredith.” He tightened the hold he had on her wrist.

She burst into a nervous giggle. The strain on his temper was showing. Best not to push it past the breaking point. “Thank you, Trevor.”

“I need you to tell me everything you remember about what happened at the theater,” the marquess said.

Meredith settled back in her chair and took a small sip of her drink.

“I’ll try, but it all happened so fast. There was the crush of the crowd, that surge that seemed to carry me off my feet.

I felt someone bump into me, jostle me from behind.

I was so worried about staying on my feet, so frightened that if I fell I would be trampled that I hardly noticed who had shoved me.

But it happened again. And then a third time.

“That final impact drove me to my knees. I remember trying to catch myself, but there was nothing steady to grab. It was all a mass of tangled limbs. That’s when I felt the hands.”

“Hands? You mean my hands, hauling you upright?”

“No.” She lowered, then raised her chin. “The hands around my neck.”

The marquess leaned closer and for the first time noticed the marks. There were bruises around her throat, deep red marks that were beginning to darken. His face paled as his fists curled in anger.

“Were they the hands of a man?”

“I believe so. I opened my lips to scream, but discovered I did not have the breath to make a sound.” Meredith shuddered. “Though I know you do not wish to hear it, I am sure he was trying to take my necklace,” she said defensively. “And he nearly succeeded.”

The marquess sat back on his haunches. “Was there anything else? Anything that happened before this incident?”

She squirmed in her seat. Finally she whispered, “The stares and scrutiny.”

“What?”

How could she possibly explain something she did not fully understand, something she secretly feared was a part of her imagination? Yet a voice deep inside her head urged her to try.

“ ’Tis hardly a unique experience for me to be the subject of so much fascination for the ton.

Over the past few weeks, I have almost gotten used to the stares and whispering.

Yet tonight it was greatly heightened. I am convinced we garnered so much attention this evening because we appeared together at the theater.

” She smiled faintly. “We so rarely attend any of the same society functions, it seemed only natural there would be considerable curiosity and talk.”

“I felt it, too,” Trevor admitted. “Is it always so intense?”

Meredith shrugged. “Since our marriage there have been times I felt myself being scrutinized by what seemed like thousands of interested spectators. But it is not the multitudes that rattle me. Lately I have had this perception, this feeling, that one single person, one individual is taking an inordinate interest in my movements.”

“Do you have any idea who it may be?”

“No.” She let out a small laugh. “Which is why I am convinced I might be imagining it all. And yet . . .”

Meredith looked up. Trevor’s gaze was fixed forward, regarding her scrupulously.

He appeared to be on the verge of saying something, then shook his head as though changing his mind.

“You are a levelheaded woman, not given to imaginings. However, you have had a terrible fright this evening. We shall discuss this again in the morning, after you have rested.”

Meredith nodded. Perhaps it would be best to continue the discussion in the morning.

Though she did in truth feel exhausted from mental, physical, and emotional fatigue, she wondered how she would possibly sleep.

The fear and panic that had overtaken her at the theater lingered still, a dark shadow of fear in the corner of her mind.

“Where is Rose?” Meredith searched the bedchamber for her maid. “She generally waits up for me in my sitting room.”

“I dismissed her. I thought she might become frightened at seeing you so upset. Shall I ring for her?”

“Don’t bother. If you would just unhook the center buttons at the back of my gown, I can manage the rest.”

She stood and presented her back to her husband. The feel of his warm fingers drove away some of the chill. Yet all too quickly he had accomplished his task. She turned, clutching the gaping gown securely to her chest.

It suddenly became difficult to swallow. Meredith wanted nothing more than to beg him to stay with her, yet she could not ask. “Are you going out tonight?”

For a moment Trevor held himself rigid, as if struggling for control. The atmosphere was suddenly charged with a new tension, a different sensation—the alluring pull of sexual longing.

“I think it best if I remain here.”

“In my bedchamber?”

The blue of his eyes became deeper, stormier. But he said nothing. Meredith lifted her chin and studied a slight crack in the plaster work on the ceiling. Her anguish must have shown in her face.

“I shall stay until you fall asleep.”

The independent, prideful streak inside Meredith fairly screamed at her to object, to deny she needed anything from him. Yet her need for comfort was stronger than her pride.

Silently Meredith went behind the dressing screen to change.

She deliberately chose a revealing nightgown of sheer silk, and instead of braiding her hair as usual she left it tumbling wantonly down her back.

Pressing her lips together in a tight line, she took a deep breath, then walked boldly back into the bedchamber.

Trevor was sitting in a wing chair beside her bed. His handsome features were composed into an unreadable mask, yet as she brushed near she felt as if he were impaling her with his startling blue eyes.

Meredith’s heart skipped several beats as she climbed into the large, lonely bed. Her husband, the man she loved with all of her heart, moved not an inch. In the still silence of the night, he seemed more distant, more unattainable than ever.

Still, he had proven his regard for her most tangibly this evening by risking his life to save hers. His strong, protective presence brought not only a sexual longing, but a deep measure of safety and comfort.

Meredith drew an unsteady breath, determined to overcome the tangled knot of emotions twisting inside her.

She pulled the covers to her chin and settled herself on her side, her back to the marquess.

She lay there stiffly, willing herself to relax.

Though she would never have believed it possible given all that had occurred this night, eventually she drifted off to sleep.