A Rake's Midnight Kiss by Anna Campbell

As did any chance to worm the Harmsworth Jewel away from her. If Richard hadn’t seen the jewel the night he’d broken in, he’d begin to doubt the artifact was in the house. Nobody, including Miss Barrett, mentioned it.
    After three frustrating days meeting her only at meals, not to mention learning more than he’d ever wanted to know about the Princes in the Tower, Richard resorted to drastic measures.
    Quietly he opened the door to the small upstairs room where he’d first encountered Genevieve. It was so early, the sky was dark. In Town, he often saw the dawn, but as the end of a night’s entertainment, not the start of a day’s scholarship. Across the faded carpet, candlelight formed a circle around the woman bent writing over the desk.
    His breath caught as he stood transfixed, astonished anew at her beauty. She sat slightly turned away, revealing her profile. Straight, autocratic nose; determined chin; lashes lowered against high cheekbones as she concentrated too deeply to notice her observer. The sleeve of her faded dimity dress drooped from her shoulder, revealing the strap of her shift. A striped pinafore protected the front of her gown.
    In Richard’s glittering world, female beauty was no rarity. But this dauntingly clever vicar’s daughter was the loveliest woman he’d ever seen.
    He suffered a momentary pang that he didn’t pursue her as his real self. But then, Genevieve would despise the shallow Sir Richard Harmsworth. Hell, she didn’t much like Christopher Evans.
    Without Sirius’s interruption, he might have watched forever, but he must have left his bedroom door along the corridor ajar. Sirius squeezed past him now and trotted up to the desk.
    “Hello. Where did you come from?” Genevieve spoke with a warmth she’d never directed at Richard, damn it. When she glanced up, she started. Then her closed expression felt like a winter wind. To his regret, she tugged her sleeve over her pale shoulder. “Mr. Evans.”
    “Miss Barrett.” At this hour, he couldn’t help thinking that they’d both be better off in bed. His bed. Not that wanting did much good. Lusting after a chaste woman promised only frustration.
    “You surprised me.”
    “Are your nerves on edge?”
    She shrugged. “I’m jumpy after the break-in.”
    Guilt stabbed him. She’d been so indomitable facing down his burglar self, it hadn’t occurred to him that she’d been genuinely frightened.
    Masking her vulnerability, she extended a hand to scratch Sirius behind the ears. Ridiculous to be jealous of a dog, but Richard was.
    “What are you doing awake?” she asked.
    To confirm the uncivilized hour, a lark burst into a torrent of silvery song outside. He decided to be honest. Well, as honest as a man sporting a false name could be. “You’re avoiding me.”
    She didn’t meet his eyes. “Nonsense.”
    “I moved in three days ago and we’ve hardly exchanged a word since.”
    “You’re here to work with my father.” Her dry tone indicated that she questioned his dedication to scholarship. Clever girl. With a doggy groan, Sirius stretched out beneath the windowsill.
    “You’re more decorative.”
    She pursed her lips. The expression didn’t look forbidding. It looked like she meant to kiss him. The thought lit the cool dawn to flame.
    Gently he closed the door and stepped into the bookcase-lined room. Books and papers littered every flat surface. The shambles was endearing. The rest of the house was dauntingly ordered. When he’d broken in, he hadn’t noted hissurroundings. The woman had occupied his attention. The woman and the Harmsworth Jewel.
    She set down her pen. “I need to help Dorcas with breakfast.”
    He didn’t shift. “Dorcas is still enjoying the sleep of the just.”
    “We’ll wake everyone if we talk here.”
    “I’ll keep my voice down.” The vicarage was old. Seventeenth century, he guessed. The walls and doors were so thick, no sound penetrated. After he’d locked Genevieve in, he’d