The suggestion in her tone had him fighting a grin. She wasn’t just fabulously beautiful; she had wit and a tongue to match. “The latest volume is there.”

She consented to walk down the corridor. He followed by her shoulder, half a stride behind. Far enough to be able to appreciate her figure, her tiny waist and the curvaceous hips the prevailing fashion for slightly raised waistlines did nothing to disguise, to imagine the length of leg necessary to run from those evocatively swaying hips to the surprisingly dainty half boots he’d glimpsed beneath the hems of her emerald green skirts.

A small flat hat sporting a dyed feather sat amid the thick curls at the back of her head. From the front, only the tip of the feather was visible, curling above her right ear.

He knew enough of feminine fashion to identify both gown and hat as of recent vintage, almost certainly from London. Whoever the lady was, she was neither penniless nor, he suspected, his social inferior.

“The next door to the right.” He was looking forward to having her in his office, in the chair before his desk, where he could examine and interrogate her.

She halted before the door; he reached past her and set it swinging wide. With a regal dip of her head, she moved into the room. He followed, waving her to the chair facing his desk. Rounding the wide desk set between two tall windows, he took the chair behind it.

Barnaby quietly closed the door, then retreated to an armchair set to one side, opposite the bookcase in which the latest volume of the Breeding Register resided. Briefly meeting Barnaby’s eyes, Dillon understood he intended being the proverbial fly on the wall, leaving the questions to him, concentrating instead on watching Miss…

Returning his gaze to her, he smiled. “Your name, Miss…?”

Apparently at ease in the straight-backed chair, comfortably padded with arms on which she’d rested hers, she smiled back. “Dalling. Miss Dalling. I confess I’ve no real idea of, nor interest in racing or race horses, but I was hoping to view this register one hears so much about. The doorman gave me to understand that you are the guardian of this famous tome. I’d imagined it was on public display, like the Births and Deaths Register, but apparently that’s not the case.”