Adjusting his eyes to the glare, he descended the granite steps from Murdock’s Lending Library, a yellowed newspaper folded beneath one arm. It had taken him the better part of the morning and afternoon, but finally he’d found what he sought. He smiled in contemplation of his midnight engagement. If all went according to plan, by the end of the night he would have Phoebe’s pearls in his pocket and Chelsea Bellamy warming his bed. He had his Lady Robin in hand now. Victory would be all the sweeter for the trouble she had caused him. To Chelsea, Lord Montrose’s study was a typical male preserve of musty books, leather furnishings, and the faint, sweet scent of tobacco. With cravat loosened and shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow, his lordship looked the part of a gentleman at his leisure—and even more dangerously attractive than he had on the previous night. Lord Montrose tilted his chair from the desk and studied her. “So, Lady Robin, it seems you are a woman of your word.”
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