Innocent in the Regency Ballroom. Christine Merrill

of her lamp would be visible under the door.

      If she were a brave woman, she would simply open the door and go after the cup of tea she had been imagining. Then she could pretend to be surprised to see him, and inquire what it was that he wanted. She might even step into the hall, and collide with his body, allowing him to reach out a hand to steady her. Perhaps he would laugh, and she would neglect to step away, and she would know if he merely wished to continue their discussion, or if there was some other purpose for his visit.

      But she was not a brave woman, and she was foolish to think such things, since they made no sense at all. There was a perfectly logical explanation for his being there, which he would no doubt tell her in the morning at breakfast. If she waited, she could save herself the embarrassment of making too big a thing out of something so small.

      But all the same, she kissed the palm of her hand, and then silently pressed it to the panel of the door, holding it very near where the cheek of a tall man might be.

      Then she heard his body shift, and his steps retreating down the hall, and the opening and closing of the bedroom door beside her own.