Brusquely handing him her umbrella, she turned back into the room. “Now.” Her mind was functioning again. “Lord Gerrard has clearly just arrived, and equally clearly he can’t have dined. I regret the lateness of the hour, but if Mrs. Bilt could assemble a meal, both his lordship and I would be grateful.” Shrugging off her cloak, she draped it over the chair, then fixed Bilt with a commanding stare. “His temper is always improved by a good meal.”

And setting a table and feeding him would keep Bilt about, at the same time assuaging his unfounded fears.

Bilt blinked, then bowed. “Yes, of course, miss. An excellent notion.”

The more she thought of it, the more she felt it was; dealing with Ro was going to be difficult, but perhaps there was some way in which she could turn his unexpected arrival to her advantage.

Setting her mind to that task would keep it focused on her goal-her purpose in being there-and away from what had happened the last time they’d met.

She definitely couldn’t afford to think about that.

The sodden hem of her dress-only an inch or so; she’d left her pattens by the inn’s door-dripped onto her shoes. Noticing, she placed herself before the fire and lifted the hem to the blaze.

And thought about how to conscript Ro to her cause.

He’d always been something of a protector. A white knight riding to her aid whenever she’d needed him. Admittedly that had been more than a decade ago, yet despite the reputation he’d gained over the intervening years, she suspected something of that white knight remained, concealed beneath his glib, sophisticated exterior.

Gentleman rake, gamester, dissolute womanizer, and gazetted libertine-all were labels she’d heard applied to him, all, as she understood it, with good cause. The entire ton knew of his countless affairs, of the wild gambling, the incredible wagers won and lost, the licentious dinners and parties that, if the gossipmongers were to be believed, were one step away from outright orgies.